Seduced the Wrong Twin

"STOP—stop kissing him, you absolute disaster. He was the assignment.

You just slept with his twin BROTHER." The system's screech went off inside my skull like a smoke alarm at 3 a.m.

I'd spent the entire night coaxing the most powerful heir in the city into my bed. Worth it. Allegedly.

Every muscle in me seized. "You're telling me Damien isn't the male lead." "Bingo, genius." Later. A hotel suite.

Two identical faces, one in front of me, one behind. "That took guts." Damien ground his cigarette into the ashtray, slow, and dragged his thumb up the bare line of my thigh.

The smile didn't reach his eyes. "What's the matter." His voice dropped low. "Both of us.

You want the whole set?" Chapter 1 "Wait." Everything in me locked up. "You're telling me Damien isn't the male lead." "Correct." The system sounded thrilled about it. "Your actual target is his twin.

The younger one. Asher." So that was why I could never get a favorability read on Damien.

Conquest meter, every single time: error, error, error. "Then why didn't you say something sooner?" I was about to lose it. "I'd like to file a complaint. Is there a supervisor?

Some kind of corporate?" "You're awake?" Damien's voice came rough behind me. A warm hand found my waist and kneaded, slow. I shot upright and ducked out from under him.

His hand stopped in midair. His lashes lowered, and for half a second something moved behind them, dark, gone before I could put a name to it.

Then he looked up at me, eyes wet and pretty and rimmed faintly red. Last night I'd worn him down until he called himself my dog. He cried. He begged. For hours.

And somehow the one sobbing for mercy by sunrise had been me. He gave no sign he'd heard a word of that. I wanted to buy the man a hearing aid.

He drew his hand back like a puppy nosed off the couch. "Are you angry? I'm sorry.

I'll listen next time." "Still want to file that complaint?" The system tutted. "You were enjoying yourself plenty, host. Somebody once said tears are a man's fishnets.

The harder he cries, the harder the girls fall. You fell so hard you blacked out." ...Kill me.

In my defense: you try keeping your head when a man with a face that cold comes apart underneath you. Then the panic landed. Damien. Golden boy of the dynasty.

Cold, beautiful, vicious. The kind of man who hates a liar more than anything on earth, who can't stand a single speck of dirt in his eye.

When I dropped into this world, the plan was clean: seduce him while the amnesia held, collect ten million, fake my death, vanish.

Nobody warned me the city came with two identical heirs.

Nobody warned me that the man I'd spent all night calling a good boy, the man I'd talked into playing dog. however soft he is now, that is exactly how badly he'll want me in pieces the day he remembers.

I made myself breathe. He'd lost his memory, not his mind. Anything too far out of character and he'd find the seam.

Scared out of my skull, I curled back into his chest anyway and stole another kiss. Mm.

He even smells expensive. "Friendly headsup, host." The system, again. "Your clock's nearly out. The real male lead is flying home.

Get into position, and good luck out there~" Home? Flying home? "Where's Asher right now." "England." "Book me the first flight out. I don't care what it costs." Here's the math.

Damien's memory is gone. I only have to keep him fooled a little longer. I fly to England, run the whole con on Asher, take the payout, fake my death.

And even if Damien wakes up one morning with every memory back, no one can touch a dead woman. Not even the Sinclairs. Ten million dollars. Mama's coming.

I curled a hand around the back of his neck. "Damien. My mother called yesterday." I kept my voice low and let my face do something soft and worried. "She's sick. She's in England.

I have to go to her." A transmigrated con artist does not have a mother. Lying my way onto that plane was just insurance, doublestitched. Except he still hadn't let go of my waist.

He still hadn't said a word. And the back of my neck went cold, because I was remembering the dark thing that had moved behind his lashes and vanished. A dog that welltrained.

A man that sharp. What if he wasn't fooled at all. What if he'd been letting me run this whole time, just to see how far I'd get.

Chapter 2 "Your mother?" Damien paused a beat too long. "All right. I'll come with you." "No—" The word jumped out. I reeled it back in, softer. "She's difficult.

I haven't told her about us yet. And you're barely healed from the accident. A long flight would wreck you." He watched me. Whatever sat in his eyes, I couldn't read it.

The air had gone strange. Ever since I'd learned he wasn't the male lead, the guilt clung to me like a wet coat. "Damien—" A phone shrilled, cutting me off. He glanced at me.

Turned the screen facedown against his palm and answered. I let out a breath. The system had already booked the flight. The longer I lingered, the more could go sideways.

I needed to move. I hauled my suitcase out and crouched to pack, fast. Then it crawled up my spine, that wrongness, cold between my shoulder blades. I spun around.

Damien stood half a step away, phone still raised, looking down at me with a face carved out of frost. The call. That look. He remembered. He had to have remembered. He hung up.

And melted into me, almost sulking. "You really don't want me to come to England with you?" My heart dropped back where it belonged. Okay. Okay. He hadn't remembered. We were fine.

I hooked my arms around his neck. "The puppy stays home and guards the house. I'll be back before you can miss me. Deal?" He looked at me. Said nothing. I started to pull away.

He bent and bit down on my shoulder. "Ow.

What—" "Did you know." Warm breath against my ear, his voice dropping low. "Puppies are territorial." His teeth pressed harder. "No one marks what's mine but me." "What is that supposed to—" The rest of it drowned.

He caught the back of my head in one hand and kissed me like he meant to rearrange the room, until something pressed, insistent, against my thigh. He pulled back.

His mouth was wet, his eyes bright. "Can I?" All night last night. Now again. Nobody told me the man came in exactly one breed: relentless.

Wanting a beautiful man this badly is a documented cause of death. But with a face like that in front of you, only a coward abstains. The lamp overhead rattled hard in its socket.

Then he went still. "Vesper. I want a gift." I was too far gone to think straight. "Want... what?" "When you go to England—" He buried his face in my throat.

Something violent turned over behind his eyes. "Bring me back a gift, of course." My timing, for the record, was flawless. Asher was in England, studying painting.

He'd been called home in a hurry and had a whole studio of canvases to settle first, and the family, conveniently, hadn't breathed a word to him about Damien's accident.

The system stitched me a fresh identity: gallery curator, all charity galas and good taste. That was the line I used to reel him in. Same face. Exactly the same face.

But where Damien was all cold edges, Asher was soft. Shy. Sweet enough to rot a tooth. Friday, I arranged to buy his work.

He packed the canvases himself, careful with every corner. "Thank you for liking my paintings, Vesper." He said my name carefully, like it might break. They're both younger than me.

Damien never once said my name soft. Asher smelled faintly of ocean and citrus. It suited him.

I rose onto my toes, close enough to share his air, and let my face fall into mockdespair. "I'm a disaster, honestly.

I've been chasing him forever, and he still thinks I'm only here for the paintings." What Asher didn't know was that from a certain angle, this one exactly, it looked a great deal like I was asking to be kissed.

Chapter 3 Asher froze for a second, then his eyes skittered away, the tips of his ears going pink. Over dinner I asked him to tie my hair up.

His fingers combed through it, clumsy. "Ow," I murmured. He snatched his hands back. "Sorry—done, it's done." I turned my head, smiling. "You're terrible at this.

Never done it for a girlfriend?" He ducked his head. Even his neck went red. "I've never had a girlfriend." I let it sit and went back to my food. But I knew he was watching me.

My golden goose was circling the hook. "Vesper." He hesitated. "I've got a game Sunday. Would you come?" I turned. Our eyes met.

His ears flamed and he looked anywhere but at me. "Mm..." I drew it out, let him dangle. "Sure." Something bright shot across his face. "Really? You'll come?" Of course I will.

For ten million, I'd attend a funeral. He beamed like I'd handed him the sun. I went back to my plate and missed the halfsecond his smile stopped moving. Not shy. Not anything.

Just still. Then the boyish grin clicked back into place.

On the court he looked lean next to Damien, but when he peeled his jersey up to wipe the sweat, the muscle underneath was cut clean and hard.

I sat courtside and sighed to nobody. "Twins. Family genes really are unfair.

Born with an eightpack." At halftime he jogged over and crouched in front of me, a happy dog waiting to be told he'd done well. "Vesper. I played okay, didn't I?" "Mm.

Your abs trained up nice." His ears went red again. He wet his lips. "Vesper, I—" A phone rang. Wrong moment, every single time. I pulled it out, and my stomach dropped.

Asher's eyes followed the sound. The screen lit up. One name, right there for anyone to read. Damien.

Chapter 4 I clamped the phone to my chest and stood up too fast, heart slamming. Asher looked up, eyes clear as water. "Everything okay, Vesper?" He hadn't seen it.

He couldn't have seen it. If Asher ever found out I had history with Damien, one search and I was dead— The phone was still buzzing against my ribs.

I smoothed my face out. "It's nothing. My mom. Let me just grab this." He nodded. I jogged off the court and didn't answer until the bounce of the ball had faded behind me. "Hey.

What's up?" A pause on the line. When Damien spoke, his breathing had gone tight, like he was pinning something down by force. "What are you doing." I leveled my voice.

Still winded from the run. "Nothing. Out walking with my mom." His tone cooled. "And how is she. Your mother." "She's good." I let a smile slip in. "Why. You miss me?" "Mm.

When are you coming home." Asher's Conquest meter was climbing faster than I'd budgeted for. Sixty percent already. I toed a pebble. "Doctor says she's not stable yet.

Another month or two, probably—ow!" A stray ball caught me square in the head. The yelp jumped out of me. Who the hell aims like that. ...Huh. Damien hung up.

That night I had a little wine. Asher decided I was drunk and walked me back to my hotel, one hand hovering at my waist, terrified I'd fall, too shy to actually hold on. "Asher.

Why's your face so red? You feeling sick?" I knew exactly why. I pressed the back of my hand to his forehead.

A little contact, applied correctly, is nonnegotiable in this line of work. Right on cue, his face went redder.

All the way down his neck. "It's—it's a little warm in here." He turned his face away and set me steady on my feet. Tiny voice: "Vesper. We're here." God, he's sweet.

I straightened up and got the urge to play with him. "Warm, huh?" I tipped my head, swiping the keycard. "Want to come in for a glass of water, then?" The lock beeped green.

My hand was still on the handle. I hadn't even turned it. The door opened from the inside. Asher's whole face changed. "Damien? Why are you here?" Damien.

My heart shot into my throat, and before it caught up, a hand closed around my arm and hauled me into the room. The door slammed. The hard edge of it bit into my back.

Outside, Asher pounded on it. "Damien—open the door! What are you doing!" "England? Visiting your mother?" Damien's eyes were nailed to me.

The hand crushing my shoulder felt like it was after the bone. I floundered. "Damien, listen to me—" He dragged my collar aside. Bare skin. "You let him have you.

Didn't you." He caught my jaw in one hand and kissed me, hard, until my knees gave and my head emptied out. I clung to him because there was nothing else left to hold.

He looked down at me. Those long, inkdark eyes.

A net dropping over me, drawing closed. "Did he make you feel good?" I blinked, certain I'd misheard. "What?" "Did he make you feel good.

Or do I." Outside, Asher hammered the door, shouting my name. My head was static. Nothing in it worked. "Both, I guess." Damien's laugh had no heat in it. "We're twins.

One at a time, you'd never feel the difference." Behind me, the handle turned. I slapped my hand over his. My pulse was a war drum. "What are you going to do." "You, obviously.

Baby." He bent in, his breath scalding the shell of my ear. "Except, my little brother's right outside, so worried about you.

And you like him so much." "So shouldn't his big brother be generous about it." He paused, his thumb dragging slow across my swollen mouth. "Should I let him in to join us, baby