I chose a nice little Mexican place where I knew the hostess and she took us through the crowded front to a quieter booth in the back. Livie and I chatted food until we ordered, but I found myself studying her every response, each little nuance of movement and word. I didn't understand this woman, how her mind or her emotions worked. She was the only woman I'd ever met that I couldn't figure out Tonight, I was determined to at least begin to understand why she ran so hot and cold with me.
“You said you wished for us to talk?” she asked as the waitress walked away. Her tone was brisk, professional. Too polite.
I shook my head. I wasn't going to go straight out. Not yet anyway. I needed a better idea of how to approach things with her.
“Not about anything specific,” I said, trying to appeal casual. “Not yet. If this is going to convince my family, I think we need to know a bit more about each other.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You do not wish to discuss what explanations we owe each other? What things we need to tell each other?”
I shrugged. So much for avoiding the elephant in the room. “Maybe we keep that simple. Our affairs are discreet. Very discreet. If we're going out to hook-up, we let the other one know, just so there's no misunderstanding. We either tell the other one we're going out or leave a note. That way we keep our stories straight and we’ll also know the other one's okay.”
She thought about it for a minute, her expression impassive. She nodded. “We needed to go out to say this?”
“Work with me here, Liv...ie.” I had no idea why I could shorten her name sometimes and not others, but I was going to play it safe for the moment. “Let's have some regular conversation and pretend like we can stand each other's company.”
Her features softened, as did her tone. “I enjoy your company, Blayne. Things have just been awkward since returning from Europe.”
I steered the conversation away from why things had been awkward. Maybe we'd get there by the end of the night, but not now. “I like your company, too, Livie. And I want us to be friends. We just have to start communicating.”
She gave me a ghost of a smile, the kind that she'd given me when we'd first met. I didn't remember much from that night, but I did remember that smile.
“What do you wish to know?” she asked, reaching for a chip.
“Well.” I let my voice take on a teasing note. “The last time I asked you for personal information, you were very clear about your thoughts on the matter.”
Now I got a real smile, one that made her eyes sparkle and my stomach twist. There was none of the lust I'd seen before, but at least there was humor and warmth.
“At the time, I thought you were simply a drunk rich kid trying to get me into bed.”
That was still technically true, except the drunk part, but I wasn't about to admit it.
“What question would you like to ask me?”
“I'm not sure,” I said. “Tell me about yourself.”
She gave me a ‘you can do better than that’ look, but humored me anyway. “My last name is not Dusek.” Her eyes took on a bit of a mischievous glint. “At least that is not the name I was born with.”
My eyebrows went up.
“It was Duseková,” she continued. “I wished to have a shorter, more Americanized name when I modeled and kept it when I moved here.”
“I'm sure my parents would've loved that,” I muttered. I could only imagine what my mother would think if I'd introduced Livie with that last name. The accent had been enough to handle.
“What else would you like to know?” she asked.
“I know you're from the Czech Republic and you told me about your business, but I don't know anything about your childhood or your family. I've told you about mine.” I grimaced. “Probably more than you want to know.”
Her smile faded and I instantly regretted my inquiry.
“You don't have to–” I began.
“It is all right,” she said. “These are the things married people should know about each other, correct?”
I felt my pulse skip a beat. I hadn't expected a simple question about her family to be so personal. I'd expected something general about her childhood, maybe stories about holidays or vacations. Not something that would make the light in her eyes dim.
“When I was seven years-old, a man broke into my house. He became angry when my parents could not give him the money he wanted.”
I really regretted asking about her family now. There was no way this had a happy ending.
“He shot my father first, then my mother when she moved to protect us.” Her voice was flat, as if she felt she could share the events, but not her feelings about them. “Our neighbor was a member of the police force and came as soon as he heard the shots. He was not in time to save my parents, but killed the man before we could be… harmed.” She looked down as the waitress put our plates in front of us. As the woman walked away, Livie continued, “We were sent to live in an orphanage as we had no other family.”
This time, her use of pronouns registered. “We?”
“My sister and I.” She still wasn't looking at me, her eyes fixed on her plate as she played with her food.
“You have a sister?” Maybe she hadn't only wanted the money for her business but to bring her sister here. “If you need more of the money upfront so you can bring her to America, I'll get it for you.”
At first her smile was warm, as if she was touched by the gesture, then it turned a little bit condescending and proud. “I made enough as a model in Europe to bring us both to the United States. I would not have left her behind. She is the only family I have.”
I had the sudden urge to reach across the table and squeeze her hand, to reassure her that she was part of my family now. It was silly, since this wasn't a real marriage, but her story touched a place in me I seldom explored.
Instead of touching her, I spoke, “She's younger than you?” Livie's personality was definitely more of the oldest child than the youngest. Hard-working, driven, responsible, all characteristics that she shared with my eldest brother.
One corner of her mouth tipped up in a partial smile. “She is, though she would say that only a few minutes should not count.”
“A few minutes?”
“Katka and I are twins,” she said. “Identical in appearance though not in personality.” She smiled fondly. “My sister says we are mirror personalities. She is a free spirit, such a handful as a child, but I am thankful for her joy.”
She continued on a bit, talking more about how she and her sister were alike but also different. I wasn't hearing her exact words though. My ears were filled with a buzzing noise as all of the pieces clicked into place.
The way her personality seemed to change.
Her voracious sexual appetite.
Her pushing me away.
The lack of acknowledgement or memory of our sexual encounters.
Livie hadn't been denying what had happened because of embarrassment or morning-after regrets. She honestly hadn't remembered because nothing had happened between us.
I hadn't slept with Livie.
I'd slept with Katka.
I'd had sex with my wife's twin sister.
I was so beyond fucked.
End of Vol. 2
Twisted Affair Vol. 3
Chapter 1
Katka
I hated lying to my sister, but this was for her own good. At least, it had started out that way. The plan had made perfect sense when I'd come up with it. As soon as Livie had told me the name of the man she intended to marry, I had known I couldn't allow her to go through with it.
The problem was, my sister was even more stubborn and hard-headed than me, no matter what she claimed to the contrary. Once she got something in her mind, it was impossible to get her to change it. Unless she felt as if she'd been wronged, she wouldn't let go. Her word meant a lot to her, but she wasn't someone who allowed people to walk over her.
I had hoped to use her idealism against her. If I could prove Blayne wasn't the man she claimed he was, there was a chance I could get her to annul the marriage, especially since it hadn't been consummated.
Unfortunately, I hadn't gotten the chance to put things into play before the wedding, but once they'd arrived home after the honeymoon, I'd known I had no choice. Livie had actually stopped speaking to me while she was in Europe, annoyed that I continued to question her decision. I wanted the old Livie back. I needed her to see Blayne as the arrogant, spoiled playboy I'd heard about. Not the kind, charming, though slightly irresponsible, man Livie believed him to be.
I had a foolproof plan to prove it. At least I thought it was guaranteed. I hadn't considered the possibility of it completely flopping because Livie hadn't told Blayne about me. After all, why wouldn’t she tell him she had a twin sister? I'd counted on him figuring out who I was after our first night together. But we'd had sex twice now and it was clear he still thought I was Livie.
Now I couldn't tell her I'd slept with her husband; I didn't want to be the bad guy. Sure, she would've been annoyed at me once Blayne told her about us, but her anger would've been directed at
him
, especially if it had only been once.
There was one other little problem with my ‘foolproof’ plan I hadn't seen coming.
I hadn't thought I'd actually like him.
When I'd first walked into the club, I'd pretended to be my sister on purpose. I figured I'd sleep with him and then, when he realized I wasn't Livie, things would fall apart. She'd see that as soon as she let her guard down, he'd go against his word, and try to get into her pants. Hell, it had barely taken him any time at all to flirt with me and I hadn't even had to push for the kiss.
I closed my eyes and tried to push the memory of our kiss out of my mind. It wasn't easy. Before I'd gone in to see Blayne, I'd told myself I would go through with it no matter how bad the sex was. After all, men like him were usually much worse lovers than their reputations said they were. Women probably told him what he wanted to hear because they were after his money and would say anything.
One kiss and I'd known I was wrong. He knew what he was doing. The perfect combination of demanding and giving. He was confident, but not arrogant. I'd kissed my fair share of men in my fairly short life, and only a couple had ever kissed me like that. When we'd gone back to the penthouse he shared with my sister, I'd told myself I was just following through on my plan. Sex between the two of us had been a means to an end, nothing more.
I'd still been telling myself that lie the first time he'd made me come.
Afterwards, I'd waited until he'd fallen asleep and snuck out, careful to avoid my sister's room. Then I'd waited for her call. And waited. When it hadn't come the next day, I'd begun to wonder. Had he'd decided to pretend it hadn't happened? Which meant he wouldn't say anything that would start the revealing process. By mid-day Monday, I decided I needed to see him again. I needed to seduce him in such a way he would know I wasn't my sister.
I hadn't admitted to myself, however, that I wanted to see him again. I'd enjoyed my time with him much more than I'd intended to. He was funny and charming, but not in the sleazy way I'd expected. He hadn't pressured me or made it seem like he'd expected anything from me. It was so frustrating. My plan to prove to Livie that he wasn't a good guy hinged on him not being a good guy.
The second night we'd had sex, I'd been sure he would realize I wasn't Livie. She didn't dress in sexy lingerie and certainly didn't behave in a sexually forward manner. But when he'd called me Livie again, I realized she still hadn't told him about me. That meant he honestly thought he'd been fucking his wife. I'd known I should've stopped things right there and come clean, but the feel of his hands on my skin had been my undoing. I'd wanted him and I'd been weak.
I'd been more myself during that encounter than I had during our first time and I thought he'd enjoyed himself. I definitely had. But then it had been over and he still hadn't known who I was. I should have told him then, followed through with my plan to tell my sister about how he'd slept with me. Or apologized because he wasn't the man I'd thought he was.
He didn't deserve what I had wanted to do. I'd known I couldn't do it, but I also couldn't take back what had happened. The best I'd been able to do was to leave and vow I’d stay away from my new brother-in-law. It wasn't a perfect plan—they'd be married for three years according to their contract. But I figured it was better to spend three years with limited access to my sister than destroy my relationship with her, and hers with her husband.
The one thing I hadn't thought about was how I'd feel about not seeing Blayne. I didn't sleep around a lot, but I did like to have my fun. It was never anything more than fun though. I didn't do the whole relationship thing and I never got hung up on a guy. When it was over, it was over. Considering Blayne hadn't even known who I was, I couldn't consider us to be anything other than finished.
But I couldn't stop thinking about him. I'd gotten a bit obsessive before, but that had been all about protecting my sister from someone I'd considered a threat. Now, I saw him differently. I saw Blayne Westmore as the person my sister had seen. Maybe as more.
I knew the story of how his family treated him, how they'd considered him to be an embarrassment, a failure. I knew how his father had set things in motion by threatening to cut him off if he didn't straighten up, including getting married. These were things Livie had told me when she'd explained why she was marrying him. She'd told me he was funny and a genuinely nice guy.
But I knew he was more than that. He was smarter than anyone gave him credit for. A sensitive man who hid his true feelings with jokes and misbehavior. He was loyal and passionate. And I knew I had only barely scratched the surface. Despite what anyone else thought, including what he thought himself, Blayne had a lot to offer.