Accidentally Married to a Billionaire

Sienna's POV

I felt the sunlight against my eyelids. It was harsh, the kind that demanded you wake up no matter how desperately you wanted to keep sleeping. My head throbbed, my throat felt like sandpaper, and my body protested every movement.

Ugh. Never again.

I promised myself internally as my hands felt the mattress underneath me and my brows furrowed in confusion.

This isn't my bed.

My bed-well, my temporary bed-is in the tiny Airbnb apartment I rented for my week-long Miami escape/vacation. The apartment is small, cozy, and is facing a narrow street that smells faintly of sea salt and coconut oil. Definitely not this place. Because this bed is huge, soft, and smells kinda like luxury detergent.

I cracked one eye open and looked at the bed underneath me. The sheets are the kind of white you only see in magazines, and the pillow under my head felt like it was personally crafted by angels. I opened my other eye and gradually scanned the room.

Oh no.

This room is breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across one side, framing the endless sweep of the Atlantic. The early morning sunlight danced across polished marble floors, and the air hummed quietly with the faint sound of waves below. There was a half-empty bottle of Dom Pérignon on the polished table beside a single crystal glass. A suit jacket hung carelessly over the back of a chair, and an expensive-looking watch glimmered near the minibar.

This definitely isn't my rented apartment.

I sat up slowly, blinking at the lavish chaos around me. "Where am I?" I mumbled, my voice hoarse.

Memories of yesterday were scattered in my head like puzzle pieces but I can clearly remember the café near Ocean Drive where I accidentally spilled coffee on a handsome young man with a British accent, and a charming dimpled smile. I think I had too many drinks after that.

I groaned, pressing a hand to my forehead. "Sienna, what did you do?"

As if in response to my question, I felt movement beside me and froze.

Please be a cat.

I turned my head.

It's not a cat.

It's a man. A very shirtless, sleeping man, sprawled beside me on the bed. And not just any man, it's the man from the café. The hot British stranger.

"Oh my God!" I yelped, scrambling backward so fast I nearly fell off the bed but my foot got tangled in the sheets, and I tumbled onto the floor with a very ungraceful thud.

The man stirred, groaning softly. "Bloody hell..."

I peeked over the edge of the bed, clutching the blanket like a weapon. "Why are you in my bed?"

He blinked at me, confusion crossing his face before amusement crept in. His voice was low and husky with sleep. "Your bed? I think you've got that backward, love. This is my hotel suite."

"Your... what?" I looked around again, taking in the gold accents, panoramic view, and sleek decor. Okay, that explains