Chapter 8 The Party Camel

Before I could respond, Jackson grabbed his phone, frantically dialing Megan's number while still staring at us, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Megan! You won't believe this!" he shouted into the phone the moment she answered, his voice cracking with excitement. "They got married! They fucking got married!"

"Who?" Megan's voice came through the speaker, sounding slightly distorted.

Nick leaned toward the phone, his expression still stunned. "Emma and your uncle."

There was a brief pause before Megan replied with surprising calmness, "That was faster than I expected. Congratulations, Uncle Alex, you managed to snag Emma."

Jackson's jaw dropped even further, if that was possible. "Emma! And your uncle! How are you not freaking out? Megan, are you in shock?" He waved his free hand frantically as if she could see him.

"I kind of saw it coming," Megan replied, the smile evident in her voice. "I was at Eleven Madison Park this noon near Sterling Group, and I saw Emma sitting on his lap."

I felt my face heat up instantly. "That was—" I started to explain, but Jackson cut me off.

"Come to the bar!" Jackson interrupted, practically bouncing with excitement. "We need details!"

"On my way," Megan said. "Emma already texted me to meet you all."

Jackson hung up and turned to us, his expression still incredulous. "You two met yesterday, right?"

Alexander nodded, his face perfectly composed. "Last night."

"And you got married... today?" Nick asked slowly, as if trying to process the information.

Alexander reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out our marriage certificate, handing it to them without comment.

Nick and Jackson huddled over the document, examining it from every angle like it was some ancient artifact. Nick even held it up to the light, squinting.

"It's real," Nick muttered, flipping it over. "Holy shit, it's actually real."

Jackson squinted at the signatures, tracing them with his finger. "Holy shit, it actually is. This is your signature, Emma. I'd recognize that chicken scratch anywhere."

"Give it back," I snapped, snatching the certificate from their hands. "And be careful with it—if you damage it, you'll have to go to the registry office and get us a new one, since you've never been married."

Jackson gave Nick a disgusted look, and Nick rolled his eyes in response. I couldn't help but smile at their childish exchange.

"Newlyweds," Jackson teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Shouldn't you be heading home for your wedding night? You know, making babies and stuff?"

I reached over and flicked his forehead hard. "Keep talking, and I'll turn you into a crying baby."

"Ow!" Jackson rubbed his forehead dramatically, then spotted Megan entering the VIP room. He quickly darted behind her, using her as a human shield. "I can't fight you, but Alexander can. Alex, you'll have my back from now on, right?"

Alexander smirked, a dangerous glint in his eye. "You might want to work out more. I'm not sure you can outrun me."

"Megan!" Jackson whined, clutching her shoulders. "Look how they're ganging up on me!"

Megan shrugged him off and sat next to me on the plush leather couch. "If you can't take the heat, stop running your mouth." She gave me a quick hug, then studied my face. "So, Mrs. Sterling, how does it feel?"

"I don't know," I admitted, fidgeting with my wedding ring.

As the night progressed, drinks flowed freely. The VIP room became our private party zone, with music pumping through the speakers and colorful lights pulsing in rhythm. Jackson, Megan, and I were dancing, shouting lyrics, and downing shots, while Alexander and Nick watched from the sidelines, occasionally joining in with their own drinks.

I caught Alexander watching me several times, his eyes dark and intense. Each time, a strange flutter rippled through my stomach.

Alexander eyed Megan as she swayed unsteadily after her sixth cocktail. "Maybe slow down on the drinks, Megan."

She waved him off, nearly spilling her bright blue drink. "My best friend just married you! I'm drinking until I can't see straight!" Her words were already slurring slightly.

Jackson steadied her with one arm, grinning at me over her head. "Ten of you couldn't outdrink Emma. Just sit down before you fall down. I'll drink her under the table for you!"

I raised an eyebrow. "You're asking for humiliation? Have you forgotten what happened last time?"

Jackson puffed out his chest. "That was a fluke. Bring it on, Emma!"

Alexander touched my arm lightly, his fingers warm against my skin. "Are you sure about this?"

I gave him a confident smile, feeling the buzz of alcohol already in my system. "Just sit back and prepare to be impressed."

"Emma is 'The Party Camel,'" Nick explained to Alexander as he set up a row of shot glasses. "I've never seen anyone match her tolerance. It's like she has a second liver or something."

The shots lined up on the table like little soldiers, the amber liquid gleaming under the dim lights. I cracked my knuckles dramatically, making Jackson snort.

"Ladies first," he said, gesturing to the shots.

I picked up the first glass, tossed it back in one smooth motion, and slammed it down. "Your turn, lightweight."

For the next forty minutes, we matched each other shot for shot. I felt the alcohol warming me from the inside out, but years of practice had built my tolerance to impressive levels. Jackson, on the other hand, was beginning to sway after his thirtieth shot.

"Ready to quit?" I taunted, my words only slightly fuzzy around the edges.

"Never," he slurred, reaching for his next shot with visibly shaking hands.

At his fortieth shot, Jackson's face turned a sickly shade of green. Nick, who had been keeping count, quickly shoved a trash can in front of him just as Jackson lurched forward, retching violently.

"Same as always," Nick laughed, patting Jackson's back as he continued to empty his stomach. "Forty shots and he's done."

I swayed triumphantly, raising my glass in victory before collapsing back onto the couch. "Undefeated!" I proclaimed, though the room was definitely spinning more than it should. I wasn't completely wasted, but I was definitely past tipsy.

"I think it's time to get the champion home," Alexander said, his voice low and amused. He turned to Nick. "You okay taking Megan and Jackson?"

Nick nodded, still supporting Jackson over the trash can. "I've got them. You take care of Emma."

Alexander scooped me up in his arms, and I didn't protest. My limbs felt too heavy to move anyway.

In the car, I nestled against Alexander's chest, my head tucked under his chin. His body was warm, and I could feel his heartbeat under my palm, steady and strong.

"I'm not drunk," I mumbled into his neck. "That Jackson... lost again." My hands wandered aimlessly across his chest and shoulders, feeling the firm muscles underneath his shirt. "What's this? So warm..."

"Emma, stop moving," Alexander warned, his voice strained as he caught my wandering hands.

The car felt too hot, like someone had cranked the heat to maximum. I tugged at my top, trying to get some relief. "Need to take this off..."

"We're almost home," he said firmly, restraining my hands. "I'll help you change when we get there."

His words seemed to pacify me, and I drifted off.

I awoke briefly when I felt myself being laid on a soft surface. Opening my eyes, I saw Alexander standing over me, his face illuminated by the dim bedroom light. In my alcohol-induced haze, I was struck by how perfectly sculpted his features were.

"You're really handsome," I blurted out, staring at him without filter. "Like, really, really handsome. Did anyone ever tell you that?"

Alexander paused, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "And you're really drunk."

I reached up and grabbed his tie, pulling him down toward me with surprising strength. "Come here, handsome. Too tired to sleep alone tonight."

He sighed, relenting to my tugging and carefully lying down beside me. "Your face is burning up," he said, his cool hand touching my cheek. "Let me get some water so you can wash up."