The Proposal
Lila
The fourth tequila shot burns less than David’s words, but not by much.
I’ve been sitting at this bar for exactly seven minutes. Long enough to watch my ex-fiancé’s tongue explore an Instagram influencer’s throat where everyone can see. Long enough for the burn of cheap tequila to blur the edges of my humiliation. Not long enough to stop wanting to set something on fire.
The Vegas skyline mocks me through floor-to-ceiling windows, all glittering promises of reinvention and second chances. What a joke.
“You look like you’re planning someone’s murder.”
The voice slides over me like expensive whiskey—deep, controlled, with just enough amusement to make my fingers itch for violence. I turn, ready to tell whoever it is to leave me the hell alone, but the words disintegrate on my tongue.
Holy. Hell.
The man beside me is devastating. That’s the only word that fits. Even seated, he towers over me, all dark hair that looks like sin and steel-gray eyes that seem to catalog every broken piece of me. His black suit is perfectly tailored. Not flashy, just impeccably cut in a way that suggests quality. Everything about him radiates quiet confidence.
He’s handsome in a way that makes my brain short-circuit. Which makes him perfect for what I’m about to do.
“Maybe I am,” I say, surprised my voice doesn’t shake. “Planning murder, I mean.”
His lips curve into a smile that could probably charm the devil himself. “Anyone I know?”
“My ex-fiancé.” The words taste like battery acid. “Well, as of—” I check my phone. “—twelve minutes ago. Apparently, he’s been test-driving newer models while we were still engaged.”
I gesture toward David’s table, where he’s now got both hands buried in Blonde Barbie’s hair. The same hands that touched me this morning. The same mouth that told me he loved me.
Liar.
Gray-eyes follows my gaze, and his expression shifts. Something dangerous flickers behind those impossibly controlled features. “He’s an idiot.”
“You don’t know me well enough to make that assessment.”
“I know enough.” His voice drops, becomes something that feels like a promise. “I know you’re brilliant.”
My spine straightens. “What makes you say that?”
“MIT class ring. Computer science, if I’m reading the insignia correctly.” His gaze flicks to my left hand, then back to my face. “I also know you’re undervalued.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “You don’t know anything about—”
“The way you’re sitting. Shoulders curved inward, like you’re trying to make yourself smaller. Someone taught you to apologize for taking up space.” His eyes narrow. “Someone was wrong.”
The observation catches me off-guard. I want to deny it, but David’s voice echoes in my head: Stop being so loud, Lila. You’re embarrassing me.
“I’m Theo.” He extends a hand that’s warm and surprisingly calloused.
“Lila.”
He signals the bartender. “What are you drinking?”
“Tequila. The kind that makes bad decisions seem brilliant.”
“Two of whatever she’s having,” he tells the bartender, “but make it the good stuff.”
The bartender pours from a different bottle this time something that goes down like silk instead of fire. Much better than what I’ve been drinking.
“Better?” Theo asks, watching me with an intensity that makes my pulse skip.
“Much.” I take another sip. “You know what the worst part is?”
“Tell me.”
David’s laughter cuts through the ambient noise like a blade. I can feel his eyes on me, probably enjoying my public breakdown. My stomach churns.
“He said no one would ever marry someone like me. That I’m—” I force the words out. “—a charity case pretending to be worth something.”
Theo’s hand stills on his glass. “He said that to you?”
“That was just his opening act.” The words pour out like blood from a wound. “Called me trailer trash playing dress-up. Said I should be grateful a man like him looked twice at someone from my background. That I was...”
An embarrassment. That’s what you are, Lila. A fucking embarrassment.
“That I should know my place.”
The temperature around us seems to drop ten degrees. When I look at Theo, his eyes have gone arctic.
“Where are you from?” His voice is deadly quiet.
“Born and raised in Sunset Gardens Mobile Home Park.” I raise my glass in a mock toast. “MIT full scholarship got me out, but apparently you can take the girl out of the trailer park...”
“He’s wrong.” The conviction in Theo’s voice makes me blink. “Men like him—weak, insecure little boys who tear others down to feel bigger. You’re worth a hundred of him.”
David’s voice carries over the crowd: “Always knew she was beneath me. Just took me two years to see it.”
“She’s so tragic, isn’t she?” Blonde Barbie giggles. “I mean, look at that outfit. So... clearance rack.”
Something inside me fractures. Then explodes.
I finish my drink, slam the glass down, and slide off my stool. The better tequila burns through my veins like liquid courage. Before I can second-guess myself, I grab Theo’s perfectly pressed lapels and pull him down to my level.
His eyes widen just before I kiss him.
It’s not gentle. It’s desperate and messy and tastes like good tequila and better decisions. For a heartbeat, the world narrows to just this. His sharp intake of breath, the way his hands instinctively frame my face, the heat that explodes between us.
When I break away, I’m breathing hard. Theo’s looking at me like I’ve just solved every puzzle he’s ever encountered.
“Are you single?” I ask.
“Yes.” His voice is rougher now.
“Will you marry me?”
The question hangs between us like a live wire. Somewhere behind me, I hear David’s drink hit the floor.
“What?” Theo’s composure finally cracks.
“Marry me. Right now. There are wedding chapels all over this city. We could be husband and wife within the hour.”
“Lila—”
“I know it’s insane. I know you don’t know me. But I need to prove something to myself, to him, to everyone who’s ever told me I’m not worthy.” My voice breaks. “I need someone to choose me. Just once.”
Theo studies my face with an intensity that makes me feel exposed. I wonder what he sees—desperation? Defiance? The tequila-fueled breakdown of a woman whose world just imploded?
“You want to marry a stranger to prove a point to your ex?”
“When you put it like that, it sounds completely unhinged.”
“It is unhinged.” He finishes his drink and sets it down with deliberate precision. “Fortunately, I’ve always been attracted to beautiful disasters.”
My heart stops. “Is that a yes?”
Theo stands, and God, he’s magnificent. At least six-four, with shoulders that could block out the sun. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling a cab.” He looks at me with those impossible gray eyes. “Unless you’re having second thoughts, Ms...?”
“Quinn.” I slip my arm through his, and it feels right in a way that terrifies me. “And no. No second thoughts.”
As we walk toward the elevator, I catch David’s expression in my peripheral vision. Shock. Disbelief. And if I’m not mistaken, a healthy dose of jealousy.
Good. Let him choke on it.
“Just so we’re clear,” Theo says as the elevator doors close behind us, “I expect this marriage to be real.”
The seriousness in his voice cuts through my tequila haze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean when we say ‘I do,’ we mean it. Not some Vegas joke we laugh about tomorrow.” His gaze pins me in place. “Move in together. Share a life. The whole nine yards.”
“You’re talking about staying married to a woman you just met.”
“Are you backing out?”
I should be. Any rational person would run screaming. But looking up at Theo, I see something in his eyes that matches what’s burning in my chest. It’s a kind of desperate hope wrapped in careful control.
Maybe we’re both running from something. This may be what we both need.
“No,” I whisper. “I’m not backing out.”
His smile is devastating. “Good. Because I have a feeling you’re going to change my life, Delilah Quinn.”
The elevator carries us down toward what’s either the best or worst decision of my life, and I can’t help thinking he might change mine too.
Here goes everything.
The taxi ride to Chapel of the Bells passes in a blur of neon lights and nervous energy. Theo sits beside me in the cramped backseat, somehow making the worn vinyl look elegant just by being in it.
“Having second thoughts?” he asks.
I study his profile in the passing streetlights. Even in the dim light, he’s breathtaking. The kind of man who should be gracing magazine covers, not sitting beside a woman having the world’s most public breakdown.
“Third and fourth thoughts,” I admit. “You?”
“None.” He turns to meet my gaze, and the certainty there steals my breath. “I told you—I don’t make decisions lightly.”
“This is literally the definition of a light decision. We’ve known each other for less than an hour.”
“Have we?” His smile is enigmatic. “Sometimes an hour is enough to recognize something... inevitable.”
Before I can ask what he means, we pull up to Chapel of the Bells. It’s precisely what you’d expect. Pink neon, plastic flowers, and a sign promising ‘Memories That Last Forever!’ in cursive script.
“It’s perfect,” I say, meaning it. “Appropriately ridiculous for the most impulsive decision I’ve evermade in my life.”
Theo pays the driver and helps me out like a perfect gentleman. “After you.”
The chapel interior is a fever dream of pink velvet and silk roses. Elvis or someone wearing a rhinestone jumpsuit and impressive sideburns greets us at the door.
“Welcome to Chapel of the Bells!” he declares in an accent that’s trying very hard to be Southern. “Y’all here for the eternal love special?”
“We need your fastest ceremony,” Theo says, pulling out his wallet. “Something legal and binding.”
“Express package it is! Twenty minutes, includes photos, certificate, and champagne toast.” Elvis eyes us hopefully. “Three hundred.”
I start to reach for my purse. It’s a pathetic gesture since I have maybe sixty dollars. But Theo’s already counting out bills.
“We’re in a hurry,” he says simply.
The next twenty minutes feel like stepping through Alice’s looking glass. We fill out paperwork while Elvis hums ‘Love Me Tender.’ A photographer materializes to document our beautiful madness. Everything feels surreal, like I’m watching someone else’s life unfold.
“Now then,” Elvis says, taking his position at a podium adorned with silk flowers, “we gather here tonight to join these two young folks in holy matrimony.” He grins at us. “Y’all ready to make this official?”
This is insane. Completely, utterly insane.
“Theodore Black,” Elvis continues, “do you take Delilah Quinn to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”
“I do.” No hesitation. Not even a flicker of doubt.
“Delilah Quinn, do you take Theodore Black to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”
My heart pounds so hard I’m sure everyone can hear it. This is crazy. This is—
“I do.”
“By the power vested in me by the great state of Nevada and the spirit of the King himself, I now pronounce you husband and wife!” Elvis’s grin could power the Strip. “You may kiss your bride!”
We stare at each other. I’ve only ever kissed David. The thought makes my stomach turn.
“We don’t have to—” I start.
Theo’s hands frame my face with a gentleness that contradicts everything about his commanding presence. When his lips touch mine, it’s soft at first, questioning. Then I melt into him, and the kiss becomes something that makes my knees weak and my heart race and my brain forget every reason this is a terrible idea.
When we break apart, I’m breathing hard, and Theo’s looking at me like I’m the most fascinating puzzle he’s ever encountered.
“Well, y’all definitely got the chemistry figured out,” Elvis chuckles, snapping pictures while we sign the certificate with hands that shake just slightly.
Delilah Quinn Black. Mrs. Theodore Black.
“Congratulations!” Elvis hands over the certificate like it’s the Holy Grail. “May your love burn brighter than my rhinestones and last longer than my hair pomade!”
Outside, reality crashes over me like ice water. I’m married. To a man I met an hour ago. A man whose kiss makes me forget my own name and whose presence makes me feel like I could conquer the world.
“I could use another drink,” I say, staring at the marriage certificate.
“Are you sure that’s wise, Mrs. Black?”
The name sends shivers down my spine. “Probably not, Mr. Black.”
“Then allow me to suggest something better.” His smile is devastating. “Coffee. Food. Getting to know your new husband.”
He’s right. We should talk. Figure out what happens now. Make sense of this beautiful disaster we’ve created.
My phone buzzes. Then again. And again.
I glance at the screen and my blood turns to ice.
Jake - 6 missed calls
Jake - Where the hell are you?
Jake - This is important. Call me NOW.
Jake - Lila, I’m serious. You need to hear this.
“What’s wrong?” Theo’s voice cuts through my panic.
“Nothing,” I lie, shoving the phone back in my purse. “We should go get that coffee.”
But as Theo hails another taxi, my phone starts ringing again. The sound cuts through the Vegas night like a warning siren.
I pull it out to silence it, but Theo’s already seen the screen.
“Who,” he asks, his voice suddenly careful, “is Jake?”
Something in his tone makes me look up. For just a moment, his mask slips, and I see something that looks almost like... recognition?
But that’s impossible. Theo doesn’t know Jake. There’s no way they could be connected.
Right?
“My brother,” I say slowly, watching his face.
Relief flickers across his features so quickly I almost miss it. Almost.
“Family can be... complicated,” he says, and something in his voice suggests he knows precisely how complicated family can be.
The phone stops ringing, and the sudden silence feels ominous. And I’m not sure if that terrifies me or thrills me more.
