Accidentally, Scandalously Yours, page 1
ACCIDENTALLY, SCANDALOUSLY YOURS
ONLY YOURS
NINA LEVINE
Escape with a Nina Levine alpha.
Always protective.
Always possessive.
And their women give as good as they get.
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Ashton Scott
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Accidentally, Scandalously Yours
STANDALONES
Steal My Breath (single dad romance)
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ACCIDENTALLY, SCANDALOUSLY YOURS
He's destined for the White House and engaged to be married next month.
Except, he just married me instead.
While drunk in Vegas.
Bradford Black.
He's powerful and rich as sin.
And, he's now my husband.
His fiancée hates me.
His political advisors want me gone.
The world can't get enough of me and the scandal we've caused.
I want to run.
I want to hide.
I want to pretend none of this is happening.
But, oh God.
My husband doesn't care about the scandal because all he cares about is me.
He's possessive, grumpy, and determined for us to stay married.
I'm everything he's ever wanted.
And he's not letting me go.
What happens in Vegas doesn't stay in Vegas.
Accidentally, Scandalously Yours is a standalone woke-up-in-Vegas accidentally married, billionaire romance featuring a grumpy hero, a heroine in the midst of a hilarious suspected early mid-life crisis, mutual possessiveness, the most delicious and fun scandal, and years of mutual pining & missed connections because this couple have always been a right person, wrong time couple.
CONTENTS
Glossary
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
II. 17 Months Later
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
Also by Nina Levine
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Playlist
GLOSSARY
In case you need help with the slang in this book:
Vibe check: a phrase said before checking someone’s vibe ie how they’re feeling in general or about a specific situation.
Drip: an adjective used to describe an outfit that is extremely fashionable or stylish. Often used on social media when people feel they are ‘dripping’ (metaphorically) in designer items.
Yeet: it means to throw something with a lot of force. Also used as an exclamation of excitement, surprise or approval.
Yaaaasss: saying yes with extra punch and enthusiasm.
Periodt: the “t’ is silent. Often used at the end of a statement or can be used to express being done with the conversation. It’s pretty much a mic drop after saying something important.
Spill the tea: tea is gossip.
Shook: means “I am in shock”
Sliving: living your best life. It’s a blend of “slay” and “living”.
Girlboss: a woman whose success is defined in opposition to the masculine business world in which she swims upstream. Widely used as a compliment for girls who kick ass.
Situationship: it’s less than a relationship but more than a casual booty call. A romantic relationship that remains undefined.
Era: used to label your current interests or priorities.
Rizz: short for charisma. When someone has rizz, they’re charming or a smooth-talker.
Thank you, Next: you enjoyed your time with something/someone but now they no longer serve you and it’s time to move on.
#thenewfourhundred: in reference to - The Four Hundred was a list of New York Society during the Gilded Age. “the only 400 people in fashionable New York Society who mattered”.
Body count: refers to how many people someone has slept with
Zaddy: an attractive man who is also stylish, charming, and self-confident. Different to a daddy in that a daddy is an attractive older man while a zaddy is a man with swag but age doesn’t come into it.
Lowkey: someone secretly wants to do something and they don’t want to be obvious about it.
Stan: noun: a very zealous fan. Verb: to exhibit fandom to an extreme or excessive degree
Simp: when someone does way too much for a person they like
DTF: down to fuck
rn: right now
Andrea,
Thank you for teaching me to love all my parts.
PART I
1
Kristen
Twenty Years Old
I was eight when Cinderella convinced me I wanted to find my very own prince. To be saved and loved by a man was a fairytale I wanted in on because I didn’t feel loved or cherished by the man in my life, my father. I also wanted the beautiful dress and shoes, but mostly I dreamed of the prince wanting me, searching for me, choosing me.
Everything my mother taught me as a child perpetuated the story that little girls should spend their lives preparing themselves for their prince. I learned how to look, how to walk, how to smile, how to think. As I got older, I learned about the right clothes, the right makeup, the right social circle. I watched and listened to how other girls attracted boys. I perfected the art of flirting, deferring, flattering. And all along the way, my mother reminded me with everything she said and did that marrying the right man was my goal in life.
I was nineteen when I began questioning the fairytale. The princes I’d met were far from what I imagined as a child. My experiences were clumsy. My boyfriends weren’t attentive. And they didn’t stick around if I didn’t sleep with them.
Where was my prince who wanted me, searched for me, chose me?
A year later, and my doubt is strong.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” I yank my necklace off and dump it next to the sink of the restroom I’m in as I stare at myself in the mirror. “I’ve spent the last month preparing for this ball. Running my heart out, attending every spin class I could find, barely eating, and agonizing over my dress and hair, and he does that?”
My friend looks at me in horror as I pull at my hair, removing pins and freeing it from its perfect braided low bun that my hairdresser assured me was romantic and classy. He’ll love it, darling. Ah, no, he didn’t even notice it, let alone love it. The only thing my boyfriend loves about my appearance tonight is the sparkling silver dress I’m wearing. And not because of its beauty, but because it hugs my body like it wants to suffocate it. I imagined Jeremy whispering sweet nothings in my ear all night. Instead, he’s whispered nothing but the filthy things he wants to do to me after he gets my dress off. Well, that was before I angered him. He hasn’t been whispering anything in my ear for the last hour since I did that.
“Kristen, stop. What are you doing?” Lesley shrieks, eyes wide with panic as she watches me ruin my hair in the middle of one of the biggest balls of the year.
I don’t stop. I can’t. It’s not only my dress suffocating me tonight; it’s everything. My hair, my jewelry, my makeup, my shoes. My expectations.
I need it all off, but since I can’t strip every piece of it from my body, I’ll settle with removing my necklace and liberating my hair.
“Did you see the way he’s been leering at Susie?” I continue tugging at the pins holding my hair in place. “We’ve been together for six months. Six months! I’ve been the perfect fucking girlfriend, doing everything he wants, and then the one time I don’t fall into line, he starts ignoring me and checking out other women.”
Lesley frowns. “What do you mean you didn’t fall into line?”
I meet her gaze in the mirror, almost finis hed freeing my hair. “He wanted me to suck his dick.” When she doesn’t stop frowning, I add, “Here! At this ball.” I finish with the last pin and fluff my hair out as I turn to her. “I am never going to get on my knees in a public place, and I’ve told him that. Sex is a private thing. I don’t understand men who want it outside of the bedroom.”
“Umm, I think they all want it outside of the bedroom. You may have to give it to him in other places.”
My eyes widen and I stare at her with disbelief. “I don’t have to give it to him anywhere I don’t want to.” It’s my turn to frown now. “Do you really believe that?”
“Everyone I know believes that.”
“Not everyone. I don’t.”
“Well, that may be where you’re going wrong.”
My eyes flare even wider, and I’m lost for words. I’m not the one in my relationship going wrong.
She receives a text and immediately checks it. “That was Martin.” She eyes me with uncertainty. “Are you okay if I go and dance with him?”
Lesley has spent the last three months chasing this guy. I might need a friend by my side right now, but I would never stop her from dancing with him. “I’m good. Go. Dance.” I smile. “He’s been watching you all night, Les. He’s into you.”
Her eyes light up. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay, I’m going.” She’s halfway to the restroom exit when she glances back at me. “Text me if you need me.”
I nod. “I will.”
I won’t.
No, I’ve just decided I’m going home. I’m not putting up with Jeremy’s bullshit and I’m absolutely not giving him a blowjob here.
I leave the bathroom and make my way back to the ballroom to let him know I’m leaving.
“Where did you go?” he asks, wrapping his arm around my waist and resting his hand on my ass.
“I went to the bathroom while you ignored me in favor of Susie.”
Displeasure flashes across his face and he lets me go. “Fuck, you’re really going to do this now?”
“If you mean, am I going to refuse to suck your dick and then acknowledge that you’ve been an asshole ever since I did that, then yes, this is exactly what I’m going to do. I don’t appreciate you openly checking out another woman while ignoring me during a sulk.”
“I wasn’t sulking.”
“You were, and I’m not impressed with it, so I’m going home.”
The displeasure on his face intensifies. “Yeah, you should go. I’m not interested in spending the rest of the night listening to your insecurities over me supposedly checking some other woman out.”
I stare at the guy I’ve been dating for half a year, wondering how I missed this side of him. But then, a tiny voice pops up. The voice I do my best to never hear because she always turns out to be right when I desperately want her to be wrong. You didn’t miss this side of him. You chose not to see it.
“There was no ‘supposedly’ going on tonight, Jeremy, and you know it. Be a man and own your actions. And yeah, I know I have insecurities, but they had nothing to do with any of this.”
With that, I turn and walk away from him.
What a dick.
A dick I think I’m done with.
My mother will have to change her expectations of this relationship. She almost peed herself when I began dating Jeremy. His family is the perfect family as far as she’s concerned. He comes from old money. His family has all the right connections and are well respected. A match made in heaven. Those were her exact words about a month ago when she casually dropped over some bridal magazines for me to peruse. Actually, scratch the word “casually.” Nothing my mother ever does is casual when it concerns a potential husband.
I’m in the middle of thinking about my mother changing her expectations and what that will mean for me (read: a fresh round of attend this gala, wear this dress, and you should really consider a date with so and so) when I exit the ballroom and come across a sign that tells me there’s a Moonlight Soirée on the rooftop of this building.
I love the stars and could happily spend an entire evening staring up at them, getting lost in my thoughts. New York isn’t the place for stargazing, but since I could really do with some thinking time tonight, I make the spontaneous decision to join the soirée.
A few minutes later, I step out of the elevator onto the rooftop and into a magical party that’s filled with laughter, candles, beautiful floral decorations, and twinkle lights strung everywhere. Music plays at just the right volume and I smile as I weave through the crowd to an old song I love, “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None The Richer.
I head for a corner and when I reach it, I rest my arms on the railing and gaze up at the night sky. I don’t know what it is about the sky, but it never fails to help me pause. To help me sort through the layers of thoughts I often feel trapped under.
I close my eyes for a moment and inhale a long breath. I filter out the noise of the party, of my brain, of life, and try to just be.
The minutes pass. I’m not sure how many, but enough for me to get lost in just being. Enough for the tension in my body to ease to a much more acceptable level.
I’m in my bubble of peace when a smooth, deep voice comes from beside me. “Have you ever spent a night stargazing in the Hamptons?”
I open my eyes and look at the owner of the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard.
Bradford Black.
We’ve never met, but I know all about him. Everyone in New York does. The Black family is synonymous with power and the kind of old money that needs no introduction.
“I have. It’s amazing.” I smile as I let my gaze slowly cover every inch of his face. I take more time with it than I’ve ever taken with a face.
Bradford is breathtakingly handsome. I could imagine him gracing magazine covers or the silver screen with his tanned skin, strong jaw, full lips, and thick dark hair that begs to know fingers. And those blue eyes of his. They’re deep, expressive, unfathomable. I get the sense I could spend hours staring into his eyes and still not reach the depths of him.
He angles his body so he’s facing me and rests his arm on the railing. “You ditched the ball too?”
I glance down at my dress that is more suited to a ball than this party. It’s likely the giveaway that I came for the ball. Just like his tuxedo gives him away. “I did. I had to.”
He leans in a little closer. “Had to?”
“Well, it’s almost midnight. My coach will turn into a pumpkin any minute now.”
