Twin Scandals

by Fiona Brand

  Reaching up, she drew the pins from her hair and let it fall around her face in waves. The look was softer, but only just—it wasn’t going to fool anyone, least of all herself. Soft, cheesecake prettiness was just not her, and the thought that she had, even for a moment, considered trying for it was...annoying.

  Tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ears, she returned to the waiting room. She could not believe how blind and stupid she had been. There was no way she could, or would, ever fulfill Ben’s clichéd male fantasies. She could never be the kind of woman he clearly desired, who lunched and shopped and was pretty and biddable.

  And pigs would fly before she would ever dye her hair blond or get a tattoo.

  She glanced at her phone and frowned. Francesca had not called, texted or messaged her on Snapchat. That wasn’t unusual, since she and Francesca didn’t live in each other’s pockets, but she had half expected Francesca to check up on her about Ben again. Although, given that Francesca had wanted to sleep late, then stay and have lunch at the resort, maybe she had just gotten busy and they would catch up later.

  A door opened off to the left, and John, looking deathly pale, walked through with the doctor.

  He waved a prescription. “Mild concussion. Painkillers and rest.”

  The doctor, a middle-aged Indian woman, smiled at Sophie. She had x-rayed John just in case. Since nothing was broken and he had seemed lucid and alert, all he needed were painkillers. However, obviously assuming they were a couple, she advised Sophie to keep a close eye on John through the next twenty-four hours and to call the hospital if she was at all concerned.

  Relieved, Sophie called a taxi and rounded up their baggage, which the emergency room receptionist had helpfully offered to store behind her desk.

  Ten minutes later, the taxi driver loaded their luggage and Sophie climbed into the back seat with John. She hadn’t enjoyed being involved in yet another accident, but it had been oddly therapeutic to be needed and able to help.

  John, who looked surprisingly normal since the telltale lump was mostly hidden by his hair, gave the driver the address of his hotel.

  He attempted a smile. “Hey...thanks, Francesca.”

  “I’m not Francesca.” She caught the flicker of confusion in his gaze.

  “Then you must be the other twin—uh, Sophie.”

  Sophie gave John an assessing look as she fastened her seat belt. “Of course I’m Sophie. But you already knew that because I told you my name back at the hotel.”

  The taxi hit a speed bump. John winced at the jolt as the taxi accelerated out of the hospital parking lot into traffic. “Hotel? That would be the Messena resort.”

  “Of course. You were there last night.” She suddenly felt as if she was talking to a child. “Don’t you remember?”

  “Last night?” He frowned. “I know I was supposed to sign a deal with Nick—”

  “Which you did. Then you stayed the night. I know that because I met you in the lobby this morning. It was crowded, there was a line for taxis so you offered me a lift into town.”

  He let out an oddly relieved breath. “So that’s how you came to be with me. I thought it might have been because...”

  It dawned on Sophie exactly what John had been thinking. “What on earth made you think I might have slept with you?” She caught the taxi driver’s gaze on her in the rearview mirror and lowered her voice. “Do I look like the kind of woman who casually sleeps with men she barely knows?”

  “Uh, no.” He shook his head and winced. “No, you do not. Look, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I even imagined we might have slept together. It was just that, for a minute there, I had this...weird feeling. But you’re right, we hardly know one another.”

  “Good.” She sent John another steely glance to completely squash any idea that she might be even remotely interested in him now or any time in the future. “I’m glad we got that sorted out.”

  She could not explain why John Atraeus was a nonstarter for her. He was nice, but he was just not her type. Unfortunately, she seemed to be attracted to difficult, dominating, untrustworthy men.

  She took a deep breath and made an effort to relax but the conversation with John had shoved her right back into the rawness of hurt. She was now crazy angry that she had slept with Ben, and unfortunately John had gotten the brunt of it.

  The taxi slowed to turn into the drop-off zone in front of John’s hotel then came to a halt because there was a line of taxis. Sophie frowned when she identified a TV news van parked directly outside the entrance.

  She glanced at John, who had tipped his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes. “Does the doctor know you’re suffering some memory loss?”

  John gave her a wary glance. “She asked me what day it was, but she forgot I was wearing a smart watch.”

  She frowned. “So how far back can you remember?”

  John straightened as the taxi maneuvered into the forecourt. He peered at the hotel entrance as if the light hurt his eyes. “I remember checking in here yesterday morning and having a couple of business meetings. After that...? Nothing, until I came to in the car.”

  “Do you remember you’ve got a meeting this afternoon?”

  He checked his watch, tapped on an app and muttered something under his breath. “How do you know about the meeting?”

  “You told me not long before we had the accident.”

  “Even though I know the date, I keep thinking it’s Saturday. Damn, I really did lose a day.” He searched in his pocket and came out empty. “I don’t have my phone. I must have left it in the car.”

  “Your phone’s here.” She fished it out of her handbag. “Unfortunately, the screen’s shattered. I found it on the road. I think someone might have driven over it.”

  John stared glumly at the phone, then tried to activate it. When the screen remained blank, he gave up. “It doesn’t matter, I know the details of the meeting—the time and the address—which is kind of weird when I can’t seem to remember a thing about the last twenty-four hours.”

  Sophie paid the driver and kept an eagle eye on John as he slowly exited the taxi. She’d had a concussion once as a child when she had fallen off a horse. She could still remember the sickening thud as she’d hit the ground, colors shifting across her vision, then the headache to end all headaches. She had walked on eggshells for days.

  A bellhop arrived to collect their cases, greeting John by name. Within a matter of minutes they were in the swanky lobby of one of Miami’s most expensive hotels. Sophie noticed a sign directing press conference attendees to the launch event for a prominent technology company’s newest generation of smartphones, and her stomach sank. That meant media, and lots of it.

  As they waited at the front desk to get a spare key, because John thought he had probably left the room key in his car, Sophie glanced around. Her stomach sank as she recognized a familiar face: Sally Parker, a well-known journalist who had been at Nick’s launch party last night, and so had probably witnessed Sophie pouring water over Ben. If she saw Sophie with John Atraeus now...

  Face burning, Sophie tried to keep a low profile as John got the room key, but as they turned from the desk, John, who was moving a little woodenly, stumbled over the case of another guest. Afraid that he would fall and hit his head again, which would be incredibly dangerous for someone who was already injured, Sophie grabbed his arm. She had meant to steady him, but John, with his solid weight, ended up pulling her off balance. As he straightened, he steadied her, both hands wrapped around her upper arms.

  “You sure you don’t want me?” Despite his pallor there was a glint of humor in John’s gaze.

  “Positive.” The motorized whir of a camera made Sophie tense as she quickly released herself. Not fast enough, she thought, as she caught the expression on Sally Parker’s face.

  Great. She could just imagine the tagline. Sophi
e Messena on Man Rampage. Or more probably, Sophie Messena Dangles New Man in Ben Sabin’s Face.

  She felt her blush deepen as memories flooded back. When Ben had ditched her a year ago, she had felt so hurt and betrayed she had deliberately let it drop to a prominent columnist that they were dating. A few days later, she had gone to a charity ball with a new man. The media had howled for a whole week about Ben being ditched.

  Knowing Parker, she would resurrect the old story and play it again, and frame this one as a trashy love triangle.

  As much as Sophie disliked that kind of media coverage, it occurred to her that maybe, after being abandoned by Ben a second time, a second fake, sensationalized story about her and another man was not such a disaster.

  It wasn’t something she had planned—this time—but it had worked for her before so why shouldn’t it work again? When Ben heard that she had been snapped with John while en route to John’s hotel room—just hours after she had slept with Ben—he would once again understand that he had been categorically dumped.

  With calm deliberation, Sophie looped her arm through John’s as they walked to the bank of elevators. “I’ve been thinking.” She hit the call button. “Head injuries are tricky things. You probably shouldn’t be alone, just in case there are complications—”

  “Complications?”

  “Let’s not go there.” She smiled briskly. “I’ve had a concussion. The headache tends to stick around. The painkillers are probably going to make you sleepy, which means you’re going to have trouble concentrating. You should reschedule your meeting—”

  “Not possible. They’re Japanese, there’s an interpreter. They’re only in town one day, so it’s a one-shot deal.”

  The doors slid open. Sophie waited until the elevator was shooting upward. She gave John a crisp look. “In that case, I’ve got a proposition. As it happens I speak a little Japanese. I’m happy to help you get through your meeting and, if you need it, I’ll even stick around for the night to make sure you’re okay. Strictly as a friend.”

  * * *

  By the time Sophie had gotten John to and from his meeting at a hotel that was, thankfully, just a block away, he was as white as a sheet. As they waited for the elevator in John’s hotel, Sophie noticed that Sally Parker was still staked out in the lobby. She decided that it was time to do some damage control in terms of her family, before the media story broke.

  The most effective way to do that was to call her mother and give her a heads-up that she was spending the night in John’s hotel room strictly on a medical basis. That way, if Nick or any of her other brothers heard anything, she could always refer them to their mother, who would calm things down.

  Predictably, when Sophie called and mentioned the accident, Luisa jumped to the conclusion that Sophie was hurt. When she finally calmed down, she insisted on personally talking to John to check for herself whether or not he should be in a hospital.

  Apparently, John received a favorable prognosis. He handed the phone back to Sophie. At that point she braced herself for the inevitable conversation about why Sophie was looking after John.

  Avoiding John’s interested gaze, Sophie attempted to keep her voice neutral and breezy—to completely ignore the fact that a media storm was brewing—and just relay the main points. “John’s in business with Nick. He gave me a ride back from Nick’s resort launch party this morning, and, as it happens, I’ve been wanting to pitch a business proposal to him.”

  Not that she was going to pitch the business proposal right now for two very good reasons. Atraeus was sick and weak, and it would be tacky to take advantage of him. Plus, she was in his hotel room. They both knew she was just helping him out, but it didn’t matter. Discussing business while in John’s personal space was crossing a line.

  There was a small silence. “Nick told me he was going into business with Atraeus, which is fine. He seems a nice boy. A shame about Ben, though.”

  Even though she had braced herself for it, Sophie’s stomach tightened at the mention of Ben. “You know about Nick’s deal with Ben?”

  “It’s a bit hard to miss when it’s being hash-tagged all over the place, along with that other stuff some journalist apparently overheard him saying—”

  Luisa stopped midsentence, which in itself was unusual. Sophie could feel herself tensing more. When she spoke her voice sounded flat and husky even to herself. Betrayal, suspicion and anger seemed all tangled up. Part of her wanted to spill all of the hurt, but the other half of her would rather die than do something so wimpy.

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So, what, exactly, has Ben been saying?”

  Thoughts about what he could possibly have said that was bad enough that her mother didn’t want to relay it cascaded through Sophie’s mind. It had to be something personal. She immediately dismissed the idea that Ben would kiss and tell. As dysfunctional as their relationship—if she could even call it that—had been, he had always been discreet.

  She had been the one who had lost her temper and made the silly mistake of deliberately telling the media that they were a couple, then publicly “dumping” him a few days later by dating someone else. In terms of revenge, it had come back to bite her because no one had believed she had been deeply hurt except for Francesca. The uniform response from her family had been polite interest tinged with disappointment. Worse, she was pretty sure Nick had even felt sorry for Ben, hence the infuriating situation of Nick going into business with Ben, the real villain of the situation!

  “I shouldn’t have said anything,” her mother said quickly. “You know what reporters are like, and Ben did seem to be such a nice boy. It’s probably all made up, anyway.”

  Sophie’s frustration ratcheted up another notch over the fact that her mother would actually take Ben’s side in anything. “What’s made up?”

  There was a loud noise in the background, which Sophie instantly identified as a helicopter.

  “That’s Gabe.” Her mother’s relief was palpable as she mentioned the name of Sophie’s oldest brother. “He’s down from Auckland for a few days with the family. Sorry, honey, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later!”

  A loud click in Sophie’s ear signaled the end of the conversation. Sophie stared at the phone for a long moment then checked online to see what her mother was talking about.

  Seconds later, she stared in disbelief at the headline of the story—by the same reporter she had run into in the lobby of John’s hotel.

  According to Ben, “Any man would have to be brain-dead to date either of the Messena twins.”

  For a split second John’s luxury hotel suite, with its white sun-dappled walls, paved, leafy terrace and perfectly harmonized furniture, winked out to be replaced by a red mist.

  She checked the date of the article. It was the day of the launch party, which meant Ben had made that insulting statement before he had slept with her.

  She didn’t know if that was better or worse.

  Either way, it pointed to the fact that Ben wasn’t just a rat; he was a chauvinistic, insensitive predatory rat with manners from the Dark Ages. She shoved her phone back in her handbag and walked out onto John’s overlarge patio. She stared blindly at the gorgeous view of the wide curving beach with its gentle breakers flowing in off the Atlantic Ocean. It would be light for a couple more hours and there were still bright umbrellas stuck in the sand. Because it was a Sunday, whole families were relaxing on the beach, and kids were playing with buckets and spades.

  The view was bright and cheerful, even idyllic, and out of nowhere she found herself fighting off tears because the scene made her feel lonely and isolated, as if her life—as busy and successful as it was—was empty.

  Even though she knew the sense of lack of a lover or a husband came from Ben’s rejection of her, that didn’t stop it hurting. She drew a deep breath, attempting to dismiss and discredit a need she didn’t wa
nt to be so crucially important.

  Because wanting anything—or anyone—too much made you vulnerable. It meant you had to trust, and for Sophie the whole issue of trust was tantamount to running smack into a stone wall. It had been the death of countless relationships, usually on the first date.

  The irony of it was, until she had met Ben, she had never been able to put her finger on what it was that her previous dates had lacked. When she had attended a beach barbecue her brother was throwing and had met Ben for the first time, his masculine confidence and easy air of command had made an instant impact. She had realized that what she was looking for in a date—and a possible husband—had come from her environment, from her brothers and the father she had lost when she was young.

  Frustratingly, they were all things that were not politically correct, like the protective kind of masculine behavior that had irritated her and hemmed in her life for years. She had gotten into the habit of examining and discarding her dates when they were not right, but she was equally aware that if she didn’t, her brothers would shoo her suitors away. Her brothers were usually low-key about it, but if they knew she was seeing someone, one of them—whoever was free—would make a point of dropping in at her apartment before she got picked up, or would turn up at the restaurant for the express purpose of eyeballing her date. She had even gotten used to her brothers’ heavy-handed tactics because she knew it was their way of saying they cared about her.

  The problem was, she thought, that when you were brought up with wolves, you tended to be like them. It was also a fact that if she ever did choose a guy, he would have to be able to hold his own with her brothers since she wouldn’t accept anything less.

  Which was why Ben had blindsided her, and her brothers, and why on some sneaky, instinctive level she realized that she had chosen him. He had the kind of tough, alpha masculine qualities she had been unconsciously looking for, and he had them in spades.

  In theory, she should have been able to trust him.

  Fiercely she wiped away the moisture that had burned behind her eyes and finally spilled through. Turning her back on the sun and heat of the beach, she walked inside, closing the doors to preserve the air-conditioned coolness.