Falling For The Wrong Brother

The first thing Raven Quinn noticed when she woke up wasn’t the pounding in her head.

It was the ring on her finger.

A thin gold band gleamed against her skin, the morning sunlight slipping through the hotel curtains.

She blinked, confused. Then froze when a deep voice came from beside her.

“We got married.”

Her head whipped toward the sound. A half-naked, impossibly handsome, man wearing a mask… lying close to her.

Raven stared at him. Then at the ring. Then back at him.

“We… what?” she whispered.

“Married. You. Me,” he said, jaw tight. “Congratulations, my honey bee.”

Raven laughed, a breathless, nervous sound. Because sometimes, when life made no sense, all you could do was laugh.

“Okay… sure,” she said, still giggling. “Very funny. You’re still hungover. Alcohol makes people sound crazy sometimes.”

Flashback — The Night Before

Twelve hours earlier, everything had been brighter, louder, and somehow more alive.

The grand ballroom sparkled under a hundred crystal chandeliers, each throwing shards of light across the elegantly masked crowd. Velvet gowns swirled, tuxedos caught the glow of gold accents, and laughter ricocheted off the marble floors.

Raven Quinn clutched her champagne flute like it was a lifeline, her mask hiding the flush of her face… but not the storm of emotions beneath.

Her friends had insisted she come, promising it would “lift her spirits” after her fiancé… her ex, the man she had pictured at her side forever had canceled their wedding two nights ago.

Raven wasn’t convinced that drowning herself in elite parties and expensive cocktails would help, but here she was, weaving through glittering strangers, her heels clicking sharply on the polished marble.

The alcohol hummed pleasantly in her veins, softening the edges of heartbreak. Her heart ached, and behind her eyes, the sting of tears she refused to admit to anyone pressed insistently. She slumped against the bar, absently tracing the stem of her glass.

Then she saw him.

There he was seated at the far end of the bar, his posture relaxed, the kind of confidence that seemed to carve out space around him. His suit was tailored to perfection, dark as midnight with subtle sheen, catching the chandelier light in angular flashes. The mask covering his face revealed nothing, yet the aura he carried… controlled, dangerous, magnetic…. impossible to ignore.

Raven felt it before she saw his eyes… a pull, sharp and impossible to resist.

She walked towards her, slowly trying to count herself so she wouldn’t fall. The alcohol was already taking control of her body.

She sat at a chair close to him watching him for moment then she spoke.

“He called it off,” she murmured t her voice breaking. The words were sloppy, drunk. “After everything… he said he wasn’t ready. Can you believe that?”

A low, amused chuckle came from him.

“That’s… sad,” he said, leaning casually against the bar. “His a scumbag for do that.”

“Right?” She said as she turned to look at him.

As she turned to look at him, she froze. His bluish-hazel eyes… bright, intense, and impossibly clear… stared back at her from behind the mask.

When he spoke, his voice was low, slightly slurred, and teasing in a way that made her pulse quicken.

“Only a fool…. … a jerk would say no to someone as pretty as you,” he said, his words dipping into something softer, almost vulnerable. “I wouldn’t mind… marrying you. If you’d have me.”

The words hung between them, ridiculous and intoxicating all at once, and Raven felt herself caught somewhere between laughter, shock.

Raven blinked, a laugh bubbling out of her throat. “How do you know I’m… pretty?” she asked, tilting her head. “I’m wearing a mask.”

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that made the hairs on her arms stand . “You have a beautiful way of speaking,” he said softly, eyes glinting behind the mask.

Raven felt her cheeks heat up. “Th….thank you,” she murmured, caught off guard by the genuine warmth in his voice.

Without warning, he stood, towering over her in that effortlessly commanding way. “You know what?” he said, voice low and daring. “Let’s forget what our exes think. Come marry me, honeybee.”

Raven blinked, her head spinning from the alcohol and the absurdity of the moment. “Excuse me?” she slurred, trying to make sense of his words.

“I said I’d marry you,” he repeated, softer now, intimate, as if he were letting her in on a secret meant for no one else. His voice was smooth, a velvet brush against her senses, sending a shiver straight down her spine.

A hiccup of laughter escaped her, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, cheeks burning. “Well… I guess we can… I mean… sure?” she mumbled, barely aware that she was gripping his arm when he offered it.

No names were exchanged. No introductions. The world became blur o the heat of his hand in hers, the pull of his presence, and the dizzying of alcohol and laughter.

The drive to the hotel was a blur. City lights stretched into streaks of gold and crimson through the tinted windows of his sleek black car. Raven’s laughter spilled into the quiet space, high and unsteady. “This is… crazy. We don’t even know each other… I don’t even know your name.”

He let his hand brush against hers, deliberately lingering, a feather-light touch that sent a thrill through her. “You don’t need to,” he said softly, voice low and sure. “When it comes to matters of the heart… names are irrelevant.”

Raven blinked at him, part stunned, part amused, as the car hummed along the empty streets, carrying them further into a night that promised danger, chaos, and something dangerously intoxicating.

By the time they arrived at the suite, Raven was nearly trembling,drowned in a mixture of sorrow, alcohol , and desire. He opened the door for her, and the room smelled of leather, polished wood, and faint hints of cologne… sophisticated, intoxicating.

“I…” Raven started, but he silenced her with a finger pressed gently to her lips.

“Shh. Don’t think. Just… feel.”

It was a command , not a request. His hands guided her to the center of the room,

Can we keep th mask on?. It makes it exciting.” he murmured.

She nodded, words caught somewhere between her chest and her throat.

Then he kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. It was hungry….like he’d been waiting all night to taste her. His hand slid into her hair, tilting her head as his mouth claimed hers.

The world spin around them. The champagne haze, the city, her pain…. all of it vanished until there was only the press of his body and the sound of her heart hammering in her ears.

He tasted lemon and strawberry, stubly sweet. She felt the scrape of his stubble against her skin, the rough slide of his thumb along her jaw. He kissed her like he already knew her secrets, like he was daring her to stop him.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she kissed him back….reckless, breathless, and far too gone to care what tomorrow would bring

They stumbled backward into the room, still tangled in each other’s arms, half laughter and half intoxicated.

The door clicked shut behind them, shutting out the noise of the city and trapping them in a haze of adrenaline and desire.

His jacket hit the floor first. Then her heels, one after another, clattering uselessly against the marble. His hands found her waist, pulling her close until her back met the wall. The contact sent a shiver through her spine.

“You’re trouble,” he whispered against her mouth, voice rough.

“So are you,” she breathed, her fingers curling into his shirt.

He chuckled, low and dark, before kissing her again….slower this time, deeper. The kind of kiss that made her knees weaken and her mind go blank.

When she finally did speak, her voice was barely a whisper. “Hey…”

He lifted his head, his eyes locked on hers. “Hmm?”

“I want you.”

That was all it took.

The tension broke, unraveling fast. His hands slid along her arms, down her sides, memorizing the curve of her body through the thin fabric of her dress. Her fingers trembled as she unbuttoned his shirt, one by one, revealing hard lines and warm skin that made her breath catch.

He kissed her again, softer now, like he wanted to remember her. And she let herself fall…into the moment, into him, into the dizzy comfort of not thinking.

They moved toward the bed, the city lights spilling through the balcony doors and painting them in gold. For a second, Raven caught sight of her reflection in the window her hair mussed, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. She barely recognized herself.