Twisted Brothers: The Wrong Bed

“What are you hiding from?” The presidential suite was dimly lit. Elena couldn’t take it. Her delicate body crawled toward the foot of the bed, trying to get away. She was just about to struggle— Then the man tilted his head and kissed her. The words she hadn’t finished were swallowed between their lips. His arm tightened, fingers locking around the back of her slender, pale neck. Forceful. Dominant. Desire ignited in an instant. The room was filled with nothing but the sound of their heated kisses. Elena gave up resisting. He looked like the perfect gentleman on the surface—elegant, restrained, almost cold. So why did he turn wild once the lights were off? After the storm passed— Her mind was a complete mess. She had no strength left to fight him, letting him do whatever he wanted. Earlier tonight at the charity gala, her boyfriend Marcus had drunk too much. She’d followed the buzz and come up to his private suite. She never expected the usually distant man to be this intense. “Marcus…” Her breath was uneven as she pleaded softly. “I’m so sleepy…” The man clearly didn’t like the way she called him. Or maybe it was something else. He bit down on her lips as if it were a punishment. A “punishment” that only made Elena’s face burn hotter. She bit her lip, pale fingers going weak as they rested on his tense, muscular arm. His restrained husky breathing filled her ears. “Who am I?” he asked. “Marcus… mm — that hurts.” She did not know what was wrong with him. He kept biting her. Did she say something wrong? If he wasn’t Marcus, then who else could he be? Elena couldn’t think. She figured it was just a twisted game. His teeth grazed her skin. “Think before you call my name.” She shook her head helplessly. Then, a soft, intimate name slipped from her lips. “My love…” “Tsk.” Smart girl. Those charming upturned eyes curved slightly, clearly pleased. His long, elegant fingers stroked her lips at all. A half-smile played on his face. “Say it again.” She looked at him with tear-filled eyes, pitiful and obedient, and whispered it once more. “Husband…” His lips pressed together almost imperceptibly. His thick lashes cast shadows as the warmth drained from his eyes, leaving only something sharp and dangerous. “So good,” he whispered. “I really like you like this.” Her mind went blank, and she started crying again, breath hitching. The lights were off. She could barely see. In the Manhattan moonlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows, she caught the outline of his prominent nose and flawless profile. No wonder he was the untouchable prize every socialite in New York wanted. Handsome. Young. Successful. Before she could think any further, he carried her in front of the full-length mirror. The sensor light snapped on without warning. The room flooded with light. His hand gripped her flushed face firmly, forcing her to look up. “Open your eyes.” He didn’t let her look away. Slowly and clearly, he said, “Look carefully. Who am I?” She bit her lip and lifted her gaze. In the mirror, she saw a woman with tangled hair and a face burning red. And the man— Desire was unmistakable in his eyes. Her scratch marks were all over his face, his lips, his neck. When she finally saw his face clearly, her breathing nearly stopped. She almost fainted. He wasn’t Marcus. He was Marcus’s half-brother— Julian. “Julian? Why is it you?” She panicked, terrified. “Let me go—now!” Julian deliberately made things worse. Elena’s nerves snapped, and tears streamed down uncontrollably. His dark pupils shrank. He frowned and had no choice but to take her back to bed. The moment he set her down— A sharp slap rang out. Smack. He didn’t dodge it. His head tilted to the side, a clear red mark blooming on his cheek. She’d hit him hard. Like she wanted to knock him flat. Her tear-filled eyes locked onto him, burning with anger. It was over. All of it. Her carefully laid plan was completely ruined. Julian took the slap without protest and bent down to grab her hand. “Does your hand hurt?” he asked. She froze. He lifted his lashes, his gaze thick and scorching as it settled on her face. “Feel better now? You can hit me a few more times. Until you calm down.” Elena felt utterly powerless, like punching cotton. “Are you sick?” His eyes curved as he smiled, harmless-looking. “I can be.” She thought he was completely insane. “Julian, you know I’m your brother’s girlfriend. How could you—” “But you were the one who came onto me,” he said calmly. “I couldn’t exactly refuse such… kindness.” His cool, handsome face relaxed slightly, the corner of his eyes lifting with a victorious gleam. Elena had nothing to say. When she came in, the lights were off. He was just as tall as Marcus. Even the suit—custom-made, the same perfect texture. When he held her, the woody amber scent was exactly the same as Marcus’s. Even the taste in his mouth—damn it—was brandy. “That’s because I mistook you for someone else! I thought you were—” “You thought I was my brother?” Julian cut in. “Elena, are you saying you can’t even recognize your own boyfriend?” The temperature in the room dropped instantly. His smile vanished, replaced by something cold and dangerous. “So what now?” he asked, stepping closer. “Are you going to tell him you mistook me for him?” He kept advancing, his gaze icy and suffocating. “Who do you think Marcus will believe? You—or me?” Elena thought of Marcus’s suspicious, ruthless nature. A chill ran through her entire body. She instinctively tried to escape. Just then, a sudden knock at the door. “Julian. Open up.” Elena’s eyes filled with terror. Standing outside— was her boyfriend, Marcus.