What If Samcedes Got Married in Vegas
I can hear you now, what? Come on, that's been done! Oh, but I assure you this is different! Trust me I wouldn't lie to you! Enjoy!
Mercedes Jones woke to a pounding headache and the disorienting realization that the bed she was in wasn't hers. Her heart raced as she shifted under the sheets, her mind foggy from the night before. When she rolled over, she froze. Her body brushed against someone—a warm, solid someone.
Oh, hell no.
Her heart nearly stopped as her mind jumped to the worst-case scenario: Thomas. He'd shown up after her Vegas show, all smiles and fake sincerity, begging her for just one drink. She vaguely remembered finally giving in, agreeing to get him off her back. But after that? Blank.
A low groan startled her, and she snapped her head toward the man beside her. The eyes staring back at her weren't Thomas's deep brown ones. They were green—sharp, piercing, and unfortunately familiar.
"Sam?" she blurted, her voice cracking.
Sam Evans, Thomas's half-brother, frowned as he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mercedes?" His confusion mirrored her own. "What the hell are you doing in my bed?"
"Your bed?" she shot back, clutching the sheet to her chest. "What the hell am I doing here?"
Sam's jaw tightened, his expression unreadable. "I could have sworn I just asked you that! Thomas is gonna kill me."
Mercedes blinked, then snorted. "Thomas?" She shook her head, her annoyance outweighing her confusion. "Why the hell would I care what he thinks? He's my ex, and I could give a damn about his feelings."
Sam arched a brow. "He brought me out here. Said you begged him to."
Mercedes threw her head back and laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. "Me? Begging Thomas? Please. I wouldn't spit on him if he were on fire. That man stole ten grand from me and had the nerve to tell me I'd 'look better' if I lost a few pounds." She rolled her eyes. "His ass was dumped weeks ago."
Sam blinked, seemingly taken aback. "Oh."
"Yeah. Oh," she snapped, running a hand through her hair—only to freeze when her fingers caught on something. She tugged and pulled free a veil. A veil. Her stomach flipped.
"What the hell?" she muttered, tossing the offending fabric to the floor.
"What the hell is that?" Sam demanded, his gaze dropping to her hand.
Mercedes followed his line of sight and felt her breath hitch. A massive diamond ring sparkled on her finger. She yanked it off like it was a live grenade, her heart racing.
"Is this some kind of sick joke?" she asked, her voice shaking.
Before Sam could respond, a loud knock pounded on the suite door. Mercedes jumped, her nerves frayed. Spotting a robe hanging on the bathroom door, she snatched it up and tossed another to Sam.
"Stay here," she hissed, tying the sash around her waist. She cracked the door open cautiously, only to sigh in relief when she saw Sebastian Smythe, her best friend and manager, leaning casually against the doorframe.
"Morning, Mrs. Evans," Sebastian drawled, stepping past her into the room. His sharp gaze immediately landed on Sam, who was adjusting the robe around his waist. Sebastian's grin widened. "Well, well, well. This is interesting."
"Sebastian," Mercedes snapped, her patience wearing thin.
"How did you know I'd be here?"
"Got a text telling me if you went missing, the Evans did it. And after the night you had, I naturally assumed."
Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "Night I had? What's going on?"
"Oh, I don't know," Sebastian said airily, pulling out his phone. "Why don't you tell me? Like, why is there a picture of you two making out in front of a wedding chapel? Or why every headline is screaming about Mercedes Jones's Surprise Vegas Wedding?"
Mercedes felt the blood drain from her face. "What?"
Sebastian turned his phone toward her. There it was: a picture of her and Sam, locked in a passionate kiss, the gold dress she wore last night, glowing under the neon lights of a Vegas chapel. The headline read: R&B Superstar Ties the Knot in Sin City!
Her legs gave out, and she sank onto the bed. "Oh my God."
Sam swore under his breath. "This can't be real."
"Oh, it's very real," Sebastian said with a smirk. "Congratulations, lovebirds. You're officially husband and wife."
Mercedes's head snapped up. "Fix this," she demanded. "I don't care what you have to do—fix it."
Sebastian's smirk faded, replaced by a calculating look. "I can't."
"What do you mean you can't?" she asked, her voice rising.
"This is good business," Sebastian said, his tone matter-of-fact. "The label's already promoting you as the newly married R & B Diva, and it's working. Sales for tomorrow night's concert went through the roof. The nearly sold-out show is now completely sold out. Hell, they're even asking for a second show."
"A second show?" Mercedes echoed, her voice climbing higher. "I didn't agree to that!"
"Well, everyone wants to see the newlywed perform," Sebastian said with a shrug. "And maybe get a glimpse of the husband."
"No," Sam interjected, his voice firm. "We're fixing this now."
Sebastian raised a brow and turned back to Mercedes. "A scandal like this would tank your image. You've worked hard to build a reputation as a wholesome, inspiring role model. Getting drunk and married on a whim? That's a violation of your morality clause. The label could drop you."
Mercedes ran a hand through her hair, her mind racing. She was trapped, and she knew it.
Sam sighed, guilt flickering in his green eyes. "Look, I'm sorry this happened, but I have a business to run, so I gotta get back to LA. You two can figure this out in your room."
Sebastian's grin returned. "Actually, Sam, this could benefit you, too."
Sam crossed his arms. "How?"
"Your company needs investors, right?" Sebastian asked. "Mercedes and the label can help with that."
Sam stiffened. "How do you know that?"
Sebastian smirked. "It's my job to know."
Mercedes groaned, sinking deeper into the bed. This was a disaster.
Mercedes groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Sebastian, I don't care what the label wants or what you think. We need to end this—now."
"Normally, I'd agree with you," Sebastian said smoothly, leaning against the dresser with a sly grin. "But think about it. The Grammys are coming up in a few months, and the buzz around you is already through the roof. You've got the critics raving about your latest album. Add the 'newlywed glow,' and you're practically guaranteed a win."
Mercedes dropped her hands, glaring at him. "I don't need to be married to win a Grammy, Bas."
"No, but it doesn't hurt to have a story the public eats up," he countered. "You're the relatable queen who has it all—talent, love, and now a whirlwind romance in Vegas? People love this stuff. The label loves this stuff. It's good for you, and, as a bonus, it could do wonders for Sam's company."
"I don't care about Sam's company!" Mercedes snapped, standing up. She turned to Sam. "No offense."
"None taken," Sam replied dryly. "I didn't exactly plan on waking up married either."
"Okay, okay," Sebastian said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Let me lay it out for you. If you get this annulled now, it's going to look messy. It'll come off like a stunt gone wrong, and you know how the industry spins that kind of thing. You'd go from an inspiring role model to a careless pop star in no time. Meanwhile, Sam's business could benefit from this partnership. You stay married—for now—you both win."
Mercedes folded her arms. "For how long?"
"Let's see," Sebastian said, tapping his chin as though calculating. "The Grammys are in February. That's, what, three months away? You can make it three months, can't you?"
"No," Sam said firmly, crossing his arms. "This is insane. We can't just pretend to be married for months. I have enough going on without adding a fake relationship to the list."
Sebastian raised a brow. "Fake? Who said anything about fake? Just live your lives—together, for now. It's not like you're strangers; the public will eat it up. Hell, with a little effort, this could be mutually beneficial."
"Effort?" Sam repeated, his tone of skepticism laced. "Don't you have to be able to stand each other and put effort in? She thinks I am a meathead playboy."
"And he thinks I am a stuck-up priss. Which I am not, by the way." Mercedes spat.
"Please, the way Thomas told it..."
"Yes, please take the word of your bastard brother." She chided angrily.
Sebastian rubbed his temples. "I should have let Santana handle this," he murmured. "Okay, look, I know you two have a past, and yes, Thomas may be an issue, but Santana can handle him. You two just have to play nice, do date nights, make public appearances, and post the occasional Instagram photo of you two being all cute and married."
Mercedes glared at him. "You've officially lost your mind."
"Think about it," Sebastian pressed, his tone more serious now. "This isn't just about you two. You've worked too hard to let one night in Vegas ruin your career. And Sam—if you want to expand your business, this could be a golden opportunity. Both of you have something to gain. Just…think about it."
Mercedes looked at Sam, her mind swirling with questions and frustrations. "You can't seriously be considering this, can you?"
Sam ran a hand through his hair, his expression torn. "I don't like it, but if it means helping my company—and keeping your career intact—I'd at least hear him out."
Sebastian clapped his hands together. "See? That's the spirit. Now, why don't we get some breakfast, hash out the details, and figure out how to make this work?"
Mercedes groaned again, flopping back onto the bed. "This has got to be the worst morning of my life."
Sam smirked, his green eyes flashing with amusement. "At least you're not going through it alone, Mrs. Evans."
Her head snapped toward him, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. "Don't push your luck, Sam."
Sebastian chuckled, already heading for the door. "I'll get room service started. Married life is going to look great on you two."
As he disappeared into the hallway, Mercedes sighed, staring at the ceiling. "I love Bas but hate him so much right now."
Sam shrugged, grabbing a shirt from the floor. "He's not exactly on my Christmas card list either."
They shared a look that was equal parts frustration and reluctant camaraderie. Whatever this was, they were stuck in it together.
Mercedes emerged from the bathroom, Sam's shirt draped over her curvy frame. She was thankful he lent it to her, so she didn't have to walk around in clothes from last night.
She was surprised that it hugged her in all the right places before falling just to her knees, showcasing her long, toned legs. She ran her hands through her hair, the waves still intact, and caught Sam's gaze raking over her.
"You're staring," she said, raising an eyebrow.
"You're hard not to stare at, Mrs. Evans." he shot back with a smirk.
Mercedes rolled her eyes, but a hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "Didn't we just talk about you pushing your luck, Evans?"
Before he could respond, a loud, impatient banging on the door interrupted them.
"That's Thomas," Sam said, his smirk fading into a scowl.
"Thomas?"
"He called while you were in the bathroom." Sam sighed heavily.
Mercedes groaned, her annoyance clear. "This is exactly what I didn't want. Why did you even tell him to come?"
"Because he wasn't going to stop until I did," Sam replied, walking to the door.
He opened it, and Thomas shoved his way inside like he owned the place. His sharp gaze immediately landed on Mercedes, taking in her bare legs and Sam's oversized shirt. His lip curled into a sneer as he stalked toward her.
"You lying, cheating whore," he spat, his voice full of venom.
Sam moved quickly, placing himself in front of Mercedes and pushing Thomas back. "Back off," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
Thomas stumbled but laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. "Look at you, Sam. One taste of her, and now you're whipped. How predictable."
Sam crossed his arms, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt, but Mercedes stepped out from behind him before he could respond.
"What do you want, Thomas?" she asked, her voice firm and steady.
"To win you back," Thomas said with a cocky smirk, spreading his arms as if offering her the world.
Mercedes let out a sharp laugh. "Win me back? You're out of your damn mind." She tilted her head. "And while we're at it, why don't you explain to Sam why you told him I begged you to take me back?"
Thomas faltered for a second, then shrugged, trying to recover. "Come on, baby. You know I didn't mean it. I just got mad."
"Didn't mean it?" Mercedes snapped her hands on her hips. "The last time we talked, I told you if I ever saw you again, I'd have you arrested for stealing ten grand from me."
Thomas smirked as if it were a joke. "Now, baby, you know I had to pay back those loans. It's not like you missed the money, so be a good girl and let it go."
That was it for Sam. He grabbed Thomas by the collar and slammed him against the wall, his voice deadly calm. "You stole from her. And you're damn lucky she didn't press charges. What made you think that was okay?"
"Sam, don't," Mercedes said softly, touching his arm. "He's not worth it."
Sam's jaw tightened, but he released Thomas, shoving him away like garbage.
Thomas straightened his shirt and smirked at Mercedes. "See, baby? You've always had a soft spot for me."
Mercedes glared at him. "The only thing I have for you is regret. For the record, I wanted to press charges, but I didn't want to cause any issues, so I had my people write it off as a gift—the last one you'll ever get from me."
Thomas opened his mouth to respond, but the partially open door burst open, and Penny stormed in, her heels clicking loudly against the floor.
"You bitch," Penny hissed, her face twisted with rage. "You think you're so special, don't you? But everyone knows what you really are—a cheap, easy slut who hopped from one brother to the next! Thomas told me that you seduced Sam because you were angry at him!"
Sam's eyes darkened as he stepped toward Penny, but she ignored him, focusing solely on Mercedes.
"Look at you," Penny sneered, gesturing to Mercedes's curvy frame. "You really think you're better than me? I'm younger, thinner, and way better looking than you'll ever be. All you have on me is your voice, which is nothing!"
Mercedes tilted her head, her expression calm despite the fire in her eyes. "Funny. If you're so much better, why are you the one chasing after Sam while I'm the one he's standing next to?" It was a low blow, but Mercedes was pissed.
Penny's face turned red as she sputtered, "You're nothing but a rebound!"
Sam shook his head. "Why the hell are you even here, Penny? No one invited you!"
"I did." Thomas sneered. "She should know how you are."
"I don't blame you, Sam; I know you must have been crushed when I dumped you, but your brother explained you would be more attentive."
"I've had enough of this," Mercedes said, turning toward the door.
But Sam's hand caught her wrist before she could leave, stopping her. His voice was ice-cold, sending chills through the room. "No. You're not going anywhere because of them."
He turned back to Penny and Thomas, his expression deadly. "Both of you, get out. Now."
Thomas opened his mouth to argue, but the look on Sam's face made him hesitate. Penny tried to step closer, but Sam's voice cut through the room like a knife.
"I said, get out."
The steel in his tone left no room for argument.
Thomas smirked as he straightened his collar, trying to save face. "This isn't over, baby," he said to Mercedes before walking out.
Penny hesitated, glaring at Sam. "You're making a mistake," she hissed before storming out after Thomas.
Sam slammed the door shut and turned back to Mercedes, his chest rising and falling with barely restrained anger.
She stood by the window, her arms crossed, staring out at the city lights. "Why did you even let him in?"
Sam walked closer, his voice softening. "Because I, Thomas, wouldn't have left you alone.."
She turned to face him, her expression tired but resolute. "I don't need anyone fighting my battles, Sam. I've been handling people like them my whole life."
"I know Mercedes, but if we are doing this, then I have to play the doting, caring husband, which means you no longer have to deal with them alone," he said firmly, his eyes meeting hers with a quiet intensity that made her chest tighten.
Mercedes looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let's just get through the rest of this weekend."
Sam nodded, but his gaze lingered on her as if he was seeing her for the first time—and realizing he wasn't ready to let her go.
Walking over to the window, Mercedes wrapped her arms around herself as she stared out at the glittering Las Vegas skyline. Sam leaned against the wall, watching her, his brows furrowed in thought.
"Why didn't you press charges against Thomas?" he asked softly, breaking the silence.
Her shoulders tensed, but she didn't turn around. "Drop it, Sam."
"No," he said firmly, stepping closer. "I'm not dropping it. Why didn't you? Anyone else would have; you'd be right to."
Mercedes finally turned to face him, her gaze steady. "Because it wasn't just about him. Do you think I didn't want to? I went straight to my lawyer friend when I found out. But if I'd pressed charges, it would've been a felony. They would've taken his assets, Sam."
Sam's eyes widened as he pieced it together. "The company…"
Mercedes nodded, her voice quiet but unwavering. "If they arrested him, the construction company would have taken a hit. He's an owner, Sam. It wasn't just about him—it was about everyone who depends on that business. Including your family."
Sam stared at her, confused. "But why would you care? After what he did to you?"
She laughed softly, a sound tinged with disbelief. "Because I'm not some cold, uncaring shrew like you so badly want to believe. I know the story. You and your dad built that company from the ground up when you were twenty. For ten years, you worked your asses off, and when it finally took off, you gave Thomas, his sister Kitty, Stacey, and Stevie shares. I wasn't going to let all of that come crashing down just because Thomas is an ass."
Sam blinked as if seeing her in a new light. Her words sank in, and he could only stare at her.
Before he could speak, a knock on the door interrupted them.
"I swear if they are back..." Sam hesitated before opening the door, revealing Bas standing next to his best friend, Blaine. Mercedes glanced over her shoulder, smirking when she saw Bas look at Blaine.
Though the two hadn't met before, it was clear he wanted to know Blaine.
Bas stepped inside, his expression serious. "I've come to take Mercedes to her hotel," he said, handing Sam a card. "Here's the address. Check out of this room and meet us at the Bellagio. That's where we'll be staying since Mercedes is performing there."
Sam's brows furrowed. "I'm sorry?"
Bas ignored the question and continued, "Once the show's done, we'll fly back to LA in a private jet. Oh, and Mercedes, your mom and aunt want to see you."
Mercedes groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Of course they do," she muttered.
She turned to Sam, her lips pressing into a thin line as if debating whether to say something. In the end, she said nothing, simply turning to leave.
"Wait," Sam said, stopping her.
He bent down, picking up the forgotten engagement ring from the table. Straightening, he offered her a smile that softened the tension between them.
Her eyes flicked to the ring, then back to him. Finally, she held up her hand.
Sam slid the ring onto her finger, his touch gentle.
"It's pretty," she admitted, glancing at it. "But when we get to LA, we're getting a new one. For now, this will do. To the fans, it'll sparkle like it's brand new." Her lips curved into a faint smirk. "But we both know it's fake."
Sam chuckled softly, his smile holding a trace of something unspoken.
With that, Mercedes left, following Bas out the door.
Blaine sauntered over to the table as the door clicked shut, pulling out a chair. He sat down and immediately started making a plate from the forgotten room service.
"Yeah, help yourself," Sam said dryly, leaning against the wall with a sigh.
Blaine shot him a cheeky grin. "Don't mind if I do. When you invited me up here, I didn't think you'd ditch me for Mercedes, of all people."
Sam's expression darkened. "What are you talking about?"
Blaine arched an eyebrow. "You don't remember, do you?"
Sam crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. "Remember what?"
Blaine set his fork down and leaned back in his chair. "We walked in on Thomas, trying to kiss Mercedes. She pushed him away, but when she walked off, he grabbed her. Said he just wanted to talk. You convinced her to hear him out after he begged like a dog. But then you two started drinking, and next thing we knew, Thomas was leading her out, whispering something in her ear."
Sam's stomach churned. "And?"
"She was struggling," Blaine said, his tone serious now. "That's when you stepped in. You pulled her away from him and promised to get her to her room safely." Blaine's eyes narrowed. "After that, no one saw either of you until the papers this morning."
Sam ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts spinning.
"You're in deep, man," Blaine said casually, taking another bite of food.
Sam sighed, rubbing his temples. "Tell me something I don't know."
"It could be worse, man. She's beautiful, rich, and stuck with you," Blaine said, grabbing one of the glasses.
"I guess, and it's only three months." Sam sighed; he was just not sure he could survive it.