Stroke of Luck - Opal Carew

Prologue

April woke up with blinding sunlight flashing across her eyelids. Her head throbbed, and she just wanted to fall back asleep so she didn’t have to deal with it. She shielded her eyes with her hand and kept them closed against the onslaught.

Her head was foggy, but she knew she had to get up. For the past several months, with planning her wedding, her to-do list was always jam-packed. And the big day was …

Yesterday!

Her eyelids snapped open as a slew of memories fluttered through her brain. Of packing for the trip to Las Vegas. Of meeting Maurice at the hotel.

Oh, God, then the rehearsal dinner …

Her head ached even more as she remembered that disaster. She rubbed her temples.

As her bleary eyes focused, shock surged through her. There was a naked, masculine back facing her. Big and muscular with a small red birthmark on the right shoulder blade that looked like an eagle with its wings spread.

She sucked in a breath and realized there was an arm around her waist, too. Strong and thick. On the wrist, there was a gold watch with the iconic Rolex crown on the black face. On the back of his hand was a small scar.

Her breath caught when she saw a wedding band on the ring finger of the hand. Oh, God, she’d gone to bed with a married man? She’d never do such a thing.

The other man’s hand was draped over the covers, and she was shocked to see a wedding ring there, too.

She drew in a deep calming breath. No, she couldn’t have.

Then she glanced at her own hand and …

Red spots flickered in front of her eyes, and if she hadn’t been lying down, she probably would have fainted.

She was wearing a wedding ring, too.

She had to think, but her mind swirled in confusion.

All she knew for sure was that yesterday had been her wedding day.

And neither of these men were her fiancé, Maurice.

1

A DAY EARLIER …

April was close to tears as she sat all alone on the cushioned bench in the elegant sitting area right outside the second-largest penthouse suite in the new luxury hotel in Las Vegas.

Today was her wedding day. An hour from now, she should be walking down the aisle wearing the designer gown her fiancé, Maurice, had bought for her, her hair coiled into an elegant updo, her face beaming with happiness.

But instead she sat here, with the head of hotel security standing a few feet behind her to ensure she didn’t take off, as hotel staff went through her room packing up her stuff. She didn’t know exactly what was going to happen after this, but the next stop would be the manager’s office. When she explained she really had no way to pay the huge bill, she was sure she’d be thrown in jail.

She stared at the checkout statement in her hand. The penthouse suite cost more for one night than a monthly mortgage payment on her town house, and the amount for the entire rehearsal dinner was included on the bill. The final total was more than she made in a year.

Maurice had also charged some purchases from the gift shop to the room. She was sure the staff were looking for those items to return to the store. One was a very expensive diamond tennis bracelet, and there were a few other pieces of jewelry.

They wouldn’t find them, though, because he hadn’t bought any of that jewelry for her.

Tears prickled at her eyes as an unwelcome image rippled through her mind. Of last night when she’d gone looking for Maurice and walked into the private hospitality suite the hotel had provided near the ballroom.

She’d found him. He’d been fucking a busty blond bombshell at the time.

And the woman had been wearing a diamond tennis bracelet.

Instead of being apologetic, Maurice had snapped at her to get out. April had backed away, shocked, then turned and run to the elevator. She’d gone right to their suite.

Maurice had shown up an hour later, then banged on the bedroom door, which she’d locked. He’d said they should be adults about this. That when she was his wife he would provide for her well, and she should accept that he’d have the odd affair on the side.

She’d told him to go to hell.

He’d pounded hard on the door with his fist, terrifying her, but finally he’d left. She still quaked inside at the memory of his fury. She’d never seen him like that. It was like she