by C. M. Steele
So…wrong
C.M. Steele
Copyrighted © 2016
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, copied or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without written expressed permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Cover design: C.M. Steele
Cover Image: Shutterstock
The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows, and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and please purchase your own copy.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior express, written consent of the author.
This book is intended for mature adults only. Contains sexual content and language that may offend some. Suggested reading audience is 18 years or older. I consider this book as Adult Erotic Romance.
Note from the Author:
To my ladies in waiting…thanks for helping me make this happen. You never fail to keep me on track and make me feel like I can do anything. You’re like my own personal Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders.
Sansa…thank you for helping me create and bring some cultural awesomeness to Amir and Mina’s world.
Lisa and Eve…without the two of you, I would be going to publish with a bazillion errors and a mediocre story.
Lastly,
To my readers…your support has meant the world to me. If it wasn’t for you all, well, I would be a frazzled hot mess. Okay, maybe still a hot mess, but without a book to share with you.
Mina: I want a man who I can’t have. He’s royal and everything that is respectable. I’m a just a newbie actress kissing his brother every night.
Amir: I want a woman I can’t have. She belongs to my brother. Watching that kiss gutted me, and, yet, I can’t shake the need to have her as my own. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop from wanting her.
Misunderstandings and lies keep them apart; toss in a crazy stalker and we got everything that’s so…wrong.
So…wrong
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Prologue
Amir
“Sir, your brother is performing tonight. I thought you’d care to see the show,” my assistant said, handing me the news article for my brother’s performance in the bright lights of New York City. It said the performance was amazing and the leads were phenomenal.
“I do. Do we have time to get some tickets or is the performance sold out?”
“He has left you tickets at the box office, according to the lady I spoke with an hour ago.” Hassan had been with my grandfather’s family for the past five years as my grandfather’s advisor. He wasn’t much older than myself, but he was wise and born to take the position of royal advisor.
“Thank you, Hassan, you have thought of everything. I’d hate to miss his last performance of the show’s run. My mother wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.”
Hassan tried to bite back a laugh, especially as I scowled at him. “What’s so funny?”
“Forgive me, sir. It is just that women, particularly mothers, can make a man cower, even one such as yourself,” he admitted.
“Yes, I have learned a valuable lesson that I shall use when I marry. Learn to never be right when arguing with your wife.”
“I shall have to learn that one as well one day.” At twenty-eight, Hassan Mahdavi was still young, but he was just as firm with the ways of our life to change for a woman. I was only twenty-six. A bit young to rule over a small country, but it was the way of it. My grandfather had grown too old and my father chose to live in America with my mother. As the next in line for the crown, I stepped up to the table. Khaleel was one of the few monarchies left in the world. It was a small but efficient nation. I only hoped I could do as good of a job as my grandfather had. The meeting I had with a few UN officials had gone swimmingly, but now it was time to get on the road to see the performance I was told was a smash hit.
I stepped out from their offices onto the slushy streets a bit peeved that it chose to snow a week earlier than usual. Having grown up in upstate New York, I knew what the weather could be like. This was as dreadful as I remembered. The brisk cold air swept at my face, burning my skin. My new home was warm all year round. Snow rarely fell and the sun had a way of being brutal, but I had forgotten to plan ahead with my winter attire. Thankfully, my mother had some sent to my hotel on arrival to New York.
“Should we walk or do you believe it’s too far?” I asked. I hadn’t attended the theater since I was seventeen. Nothing was the same once it was made clear that I would be the ruler. All the normal freedoms were gone.
“It’s too far for a person of your ranking to make. I’m sorry, but the carefree life is a thing of the past.” I was reminded that a simple stroll through the park was no longer an option.
It has only been a short time and I already feel the yoke around my neck. I enjoyed the path I was on, but after a long day, I had no one to come home to and tell them how much I needed them. I didn’t want to marry an American woman. No, I wanted to keep the royal family mostly Persian, so I searched throughout the kingdom for the right woman. I had yet to find her. Many families tried to throw their daughters that were of marrying age at me, and I had found none with any sense or reason.
The bellman hailed a cab for us and we headed out to the theater. I planned out my itinerary with him while we made the twenty-minute drive through NYC traffic.
“Did you want to schedule the date with the daughter of the Khahir province?” he asked in our native Farsi. The driver, a Hispanic man, did not look twice at us and I respected that. It was hard to speak anything but English in America without getting a scathing look. Yes, it was considered rude to speak another language in front of others that did not know it, but in such a public setting, it wasn’t considered the same.
“No. I did not care for her teeth. It was strange, but they were pristinely white and completely straight. It was as though her parents used all their funds on her smile and neglected any of it on her education. The woman was a total fool.”
“Sir, I believe you are mixing her up with the daughter of Sir Raimi.”
“It does not matter. They all smiled too much.” It sounded petty and dreadful coming from my mouth and reaching my ears, but it was true.
Their smiles were put on and not genuine. My mother loved to laugh and I adored her for it, but a smile out of turn irked me. It was as though they hoped I would take more notice if they looked at me with a provocative glance or a charming smile.
We arrived at the theater and I paid the driver before stepping out of the cab. “Thank you, sir, and have a blessed day.”
“Thank you,” he said, looking at the large bill I had given him. It wasn’t often that I’d taken a cab, but muddling through these streets at this time of year was tedious and rather dangerous. We entered the theater through the front entrance, however, the moment I stepped through the door, several of the staff circled me and asked that I take a seat in a special area. I suppose it had more to do with me being Michael’s twin brother rather than my ranking. It was something Michael didn’t tell a soul about, even his girlfriend. She was also starring in this play as the female lead. I rolled my eyes. It was typical in the industry for couples to meet and fall in love. Or pretend love, in my opinion. This Mina Holden woman was probably out to see if she could use my brother to get ahead. I’d never heard of her in the entertainment world, so I assumed she has no experience.
I got the playbill and opened it up. On the first page was my brother with his bio. I’d read it before he sent it in and was grateful that he didn’t add anything about his royal background. It wasn’t that I had a problem with his choice of career, it was all the women that would be after him for it. I turned to the next page and caught the shock of my life. The female lead Mina was fucking stunning. It was a professional headshot, but it wasn’t one where she had her face dolled up. All she had on was a simple pink lip gloss and some mascara. She had the girl next door look, but then I read her bio. I was wrong.
The bright and shining new addition to the theater world: Mina Holden is the daughter of movie director Eric Holden and the gorgeous Academy Award Winning Minx Holden. This is her acting debut. We look forward to more of her talents yet to come. With her stellar beauty and her inherited gifts, she is sure to be a starlet in no time.
During her free time, Mina likes to read vigorously and hang out at the local bookstores.
I was pissed at this bio. First, it couldn’t be written by Mina herself. There is no way she would degrade herself like this. It had to be the theater company. It praises her parents, but leaves her as an afterthought. I was mad for her. How could this carry on like that?
“Sir, please take a seat. The show will be starting in just a moment,” the usher named Rick said, escorting us to our seats. I took the seat, angry at the sudden need to straighten out the playbill. I sent a message to the company before the show started, exclaiming my outrage. I didn’t know if they will respond or if it would make a difference, but it was done. After I had done so, I wondered what the hell I was thinking. As a leader of a country to pitch a fit over a biography in a play was ludicrous. Thankfully, I had remembered that this was my personal account with my name spelled different. It wasn’t that I used it a lot, but prior to becoming the crowned ruler, I was a normal college kid and didn’t want the media to get my real address or name.
I was about to pull the message back when the lights dimmed and it was time to watch them in action.
An hour into the play, I wanted to leave. Not because it was shitty, but because it was a masterful performance and both her and my brother stole the show. It was about the last five minutes of the play when I’d had enough. My brother grabbed his woman close and locked lips with her. I growled internally, but I still caught looks from Hassan and the woman sitting next to me. I didn’t care. I was jealous, more like beyond jealous. The show ended before the blinding rage in my chest could ease.
The crowd erupted into a wild frenzy of cheers as the lead actress stepped up from behind the curtain. I was too transfixed on her beauty to join in the hurrahs. In a tiny dress, she graced us with her curves and a smile that could make a man forget his name. I wanted to bury my cock into her over and over until she forgot my brother. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the stage. Then, her eyes met mine and I swore that something passed between us. I had to get out of there.
“Let’s go, Hassan.” I got up and gave her one last look. Her eyes met mine and I was fucked.
I walked out of the theater trying to ignore the insane lust I felt, Hassan running right behind me.
Mina
Holy shit balls. I wasn’t expecting to see Amir Askari sitting in the front row of the performance. It was the last one and he hadn’t shown up during the entire six-month run. Why tonight? Why did I have strange feelings for him? Michael had no idea how often I stared at his brother’s picture that he had on the walkway entrance.
My heart was pounding when I first saw him in the opening scene. Through most of the show, the lights were blocking my view of him, which I preferred. I had a massive crush on the new ruler. He was a man among men. I could never be his and it was probably why the kiss between me and his twin brother had been so passionate. I looked at the morning paper and it was there.
The Last Performance the Best: The first time the kiss had felt real, several of the reviewers had said. The kiss was perfect and intense. It was like Ms. Holden was in love with her co-star. Are wedding bells in the air for the two? More rumors are buzzing and that smooch had mad feelings in it.
It was all because of Amir. I was madly infatuated with him and took it out on his twin. That kiss belonged to the man I couldn’t have. Amir was going to marry a woman from his country. He wanted to keep the Persian bloodlines running through the royal family. I understood because, as the leader, his people wouldn’t appreciate a non-native to invade their way of life. It sucked for me, but it was the way of the world. Michael told me his brother took their history seriously and was proud of his culture. Again, another thing I understood. What I didn’t understand was my need to be with him. It was intense and it seemed to have control over me. I couldn’t date anyone because of it. Michael might have been on to it, but he didn’t let on. The things I think of him doing to me were so…wrong.
Chapter 1
Mina
“Bitch, you’re coming with me.” I felt the gun on the small of my back. I panicked for a second, but made up my mind not to be his victim.
“No, I’m not,” I hissed through gritted teeth and then whipped around and shot him in the neck.
“Shit, that fucking stings,” Michael said, rubbing his neck. I started laughing and was already on the tips of my toes ready to run. He raised his new Nerf gun, and I knew I had to run or I was going to get it. I made a mad dash over the couch and ducked behind it. I lifted my new, pretty, pink and purple Nerf gun and shot over the back of the couch. I hit the wall, but I heard his footsteps and ran away. I started laughing when there was a knock on our apartment door.
“Truce, truce. I’ve got to get the door.”
“Okay,” he said. I walked to the door and felt the sting of a foam bullet on my ass.
“Bastard,” I said, just as I opened the door. I gasped when I saw the giant man in front of me. A man I hadn’t seen in six months. Six long months since he got up from that seat in front of me and walked away so dismissively. He was Michael’s twin brother, but he looked like he spent all his time in the gym. His eyes were dark and hard. Nothing like I remembered. The twins looked so much alike, but there was something magnetizing about Amir. He didn’t look like he just turned twenty-seven last week. He looked too distinguished and royal. Everything I knew about him said he was as classy as his brother was goofy, twins with opposite personalities.
“Quality welcome,” he stated, looking at me up and down with a disapproving sneer. I swallowed hard, feeling like I was naked in front of him. I froze, realizing that I was practically naked. My nipples peaked when I saw him glaring at me. I had on a pair of silky pajama shorts and a tight tank top. It was early on a Saturday and I hadn’t expected anyone to show up. Especially a man who didn’t even stay to meet me after the performance.
Michael came up beh
ind me, a little closer than I expected, and I saw Amir’s face tighten. That’s when I remembered that Michael was just wearing pajama pants. We looked like two young lovebirds who probably had just got it on.
“Come in, brother,” he said with a big ass smile on his face. Michael loved his big brother, admired him, and yet they were as far apart as brothers could be. Amir stepped his large frame through our door and all the sudden the room was too full. I needed air.
“I’m going to go change after I start some coffee,” I muttered, trying to run from the room.
“I win,” Michael called out. Asshole. That was what started our Nerf war. It was his turn to make coffee, but he was being a shit. I took the first shot at him, but he still didn’t make the coffee, so we went to war.
“You always do,” Amir grumbled. I looked between them one more time before heading into the kitchen. He started speaking in Farsi, and I was pissed that I hadn’t understood a word he had said. Whatever it was, it was angry and brief. I started the coffee, then headed to my bedroom to get dressed.
I looked through my closet, trying to find something to wear. It was almost summer, so I put on a pair of jeans with a flowy sleeveless blouse that wasn’t too revealing. I still wanted to look pretty for Amir even though it was pointless. I applied some lip gloss and gave myself one more look over before getting the coffee.
I fixed our cups and nervously walked into the room with the one person who made me feel so many different things. My body trembled and desire stirred up in me every time I saw his picture that sat on the table by the door. God, how often I thought about that night at the theater.
I heard Michael walking around his bedroom, huffing and getting dressed. The brothers didn’t see eye to eye when it came to what Michael should do with his life. Amir claimed to think Michael had talent, but he wasn’t making smart business choices in the industry. I had to agree with Amir, but Amir had no idea that he was doing it for me.
