THE CEO'S SECRET TWINS

Chapter One: The Bachelorette The bar was on the forty-second floor of the Calloway Hotel, all glass and gold and people who looked like they belonged in magazines. Maya Reyes did not belong here. She tugged at the hem of her dress — a borrowed black number that was a size too tight — and tried to remember why she had agreed to come. "Stop fidgeting," Lila said, pressing a glass into her hand. "You look gorgeous." "I look like I'm attending someone else's life." Lila laughed and disappeared into the crowd of women in sequins and stilettos. It was her bachelorette party, and she was glowing, and everyone around her was talking about weddings and futures and forever. Maya took a long sip of her drink. She was twenty-nine. She had a small apartment, a decent job at a marketing firm, and a cat named Vincent who hated everyone but her. She was fine. She was fine. But standing here, surrounded by women who seemed to have it all figured out, she felt like she was watching her life from the outside. She needed air. She slipped away from the group and walked to the far end of the bar, where the crowd thinned and the city lights stretched out like a sea of stars. She leaned against the counter and closed her eyes for a moment. "You look like you're escaping something." The voice was low and smooth, with an edge of amusement that made her open her eyes. He was sitting two stools down, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Dark hair, dark suit, no tie. He had the kind of face that probably made people nervous in boardrooms — sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, eyes that seemed to see too much. "I'm not escaping," she said. "I'm... strategically relocating." His mouth curved. "Strategic. I like that." She should have looked away. She should have finished her drink and gone back to the party. Instead, she said, "And what are you escaping?" "Everything," he said simply. "Just for tonight." There was something in his voice — a weariness beneath the confidence — that made her curious. "Maya," she said, offering her hand. He took it. His grip was warm and firm. "Adrian."