Las Vegas—the city of endless lights, wild parties, flowing drinks, and... quick weddings.

Soap MacTavish had been dreaming of this trip for ages. No one knew exactly why, but for some reason, Vegas was at the top of his bucket list. "Let’s do something crazy," he’d said. And, of course, he wasn’t planning to go alone. After much convincing, he managed to drag Ghost and Gaz along for the ride. "Vacation of a lifetime," Soap called it.

Each night was wilder than the last. Soap, determined to make the most of it, pushed everyone to hit every club and party on the strip. What could possibly go wrong?

Apparently, a lot.

When Soap woke up the next morning, the first thing he noticed was the throbbing pain in his head. Hangover. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes, only to pull down… lace panties that had somehow ended up on his face. Confused, he blinked at the ceiling, trying to piece together the fragments of the previous night.

And then he heard it—the soft sound of breathing next to him. Slowly, he turned his head, his heart skipping a beat when he saw you, still fast asleep in his hotel bed.

Panic flooded his system as blurry memories of the night started to surface. He remembered the club, the dance floor… and you. A complete stranger, yet somehow the most captivating person he’d ever seen. Alcohol had made him bolder than usual—compliments, shared laughs, a drink, then another, and another. He vaguely recalled leaving the club together, but the details after that were hazy at best.

Rubbing his face in disbelief, Soap froze as his eyes landed on his hand. A golden wedding band gleamed on his finger. His breath hitched. No… no way. Did he really…? With you?

Fuck.