Chapter 34 The Thing About Sisters
THE THING ABOUT SISTERS
Brendan
Icouldn’t stop touching her now that I’d started. Now that I was allowed to do it whenever I wanted for as long as I wanted.
Simone’s hand was wrapped firmly in mine when we returned to Boston two days after the engagement party.
Had been all through the rest of the weekend in Newport.
During the interminable lunches and dinners, while I endured unending ribbing from my siblings about our disappearance from the party, and even as my father continued to do his level best to goad all his children into fighting each other for forty-eight hours straight.
It made no difference to me. All I had to do was hold out my hand, and hers would find it, providing the grounding I might have been searching for most of my life. My family had yelled at me twice for making up the weakest excuses possible to be alone with my fake fiancée.
It was the first time a trip to Newport had ever felt like a real vacation. It was fucking fantastic.
I liked the way it felt, her small hand nestled in my palm.
Delicate but strong, especially now that I was aware of exactly what she could do with it.
Simone was a grabber, a fact that shouldn’t have surprised me after watching her shape bread dough.
But the way her fingers yanked my hair when I was pushing her to her limits or the way she hung onto my shoulder for dear life when I had my face buried between her thighs…
Let’s just say my girl gave as good as she got.
And judging by the tired, yet satisfied expression she’d been wearing all weekend, I’d say she was getting it pretty good.
Even so, by the time we pulled to a stop in front of the Martin, I was ready to welcome her home all over again, beginning with the elevator, glass or not.
That is, until I saw Simone’s reflection arguing with my doorman, tears streaking black eye makeup down her cheeks.
No, not her reflection. Her twin.
“Oh my God, that’s my sister.”
“Jesus, Simone, watch out!” I shouted as she jumped out into traffic and rounded the car before I could help her. “Anthony, park the car and bring up our bags.”
My driver nodded in the rearview mirror before I exited to where Simone was trying to console her sister.
“There he is!” Selena shouted as I stepped onto the curb. “Yo, rich boy! Tell this asshole you know me.”
“Mr. Black, I’m so sorry,” Gordon, the morning doorman, called out. “I’m calling in a disturbance right now.”
“It’s not trespassing if she’s my sister. Or are you fucking blind?” Selena scowled at Gordon. “See, I told you my twin lived here, you uptight twat.”
Without waiting for a response, she threw herself into Simone’s arms. Over her sister’s shoulder, Simone’s eyes widened with obvious surprise.
I, however, was more suspicious than surprised. If there was one thing being the son of Niall Black had taught me, it was how to smell a rat.
Selena Bishop stank like a nest of them.
“It’s fine, Gordon,” I told my doorman. “She can come in.”
Gordon looked doubtful but stepped aside to let us enter the building.
“It’s going to be okay.” Already Simone was comforting her sister, soothing her. It seemed to be second nature to this woman. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“I need to talk to you,” Selena said with a glance my way. “And you, too, I guess.”
“You must be Selena,” I replied. “I’m—”
“I know who you are, Brendan Black. Nice of you to ask before you decided to marry my sister, by the way.”
I glanced between her and Simone, who shrugged.
“Right.” I swallowed back a scowl. As a CEO paying a woman to pretend to be his fiancée, I would have requested she escort her sister elsewhere out of a basic sense of professionalism. As a self-anointed boyfriend, however…my obligations were somewhat different.
Goddamn it.
My hand flexed.
For the first time in two days, Simone didn’t take it. She was too busy with Selena.
Fuck.
“Why don’t we all go upstairs?” I suggested between my teeth as the elevator door opened.
Simone looked obviously relieved. “Thanks, yeah. Where’s Kylie?”
There was no answer. Selena stared at me for the entire ride up, like she wasn’t totally sure she wanted to speak in front of me.
Well, too fuckin’ bad. I wasn’t about to leave her alone with Simone either. Not like this.
Her silence at least allowed me to observe their differences.
Though Simone had told me they were identical twins, I wouldn’t necessarily have thought so.
The foundation was there, of course. Same height, same approximate size and weight, same facial features.
But while Simone was the picture of health with clean, makeup-free skin and her lush hair pulled back into a thick bun at the base of her neck, her sister was the kind of mess that takes years to make with alcohol, sun damage, and hard living.
She had tried to mask it all with things like fake eyelashes, cheap hair extensions, and the heavy makeup smeared from crying.
But next to Simone, she looked like a bad photocopy of an original piece of art.
She was just plain ugly. Not physically—she looked too much like her sister for me to ever think that.
But I wasn’t even a little bit attracted to the woman because of how evident her soul had damaged her looks.
I had spent all of two minutes with Selena Bishop, and I already knew she was a poison I wanted as far away from the woman I—well, if not loved, certainly cared about.
And yet I’d just invited this toxin into our home.
The elevator opened, and Selena dragged Simone inside like the place belonged to her, not me.
“Holy shit,” she said as she took in the staircase, the living room, and the views of Boston. “So this is how the one-percenters live.”
“The office,” I said. “It would be a good place to talk.”
Simone nodded and directed her sister down the hall to the spare office that was more for guests than for me. I had my own upstairs.
I closed the door behind us.
“All right, Sel,” Simone said. “Let’s hear it.”
I quirked a brow, a bit surprised. I’d never heard that tone from her before—one where she was taking charge and even standing up for herself a little bit. I liked it. A lot.
Selena flopped into one of the chairs opposite my desk like a disgruntled teenager. “I tried, Simmy. I really did.”
“Tried what?” I wondered under my breath. “Basic manners?”
Simone shook her head at me, then turned to her sister. “What exactly happened? Where is Kylie?”
“It’s Ezra. I gave him the money. But…” Selena’s bottom lip quivered as she looked over at me. “He saw the news. He saw you.”
I frowned. “Who saw me?”
“The man my sister owed money to,” Simone said quietly.
I leaned back against the door and crossed my arms. “Why would it matter if he saw me? Lots of people know who I am.”
“Well, he saw you with me. Or, he thought it was me, even though it was Simone.” Selena bit out the words like they tasted bad.
I tipped my head. I didn’t particularly like her tone. Or the idea that anyone could confuse the two of them. Would you confuse a Hyundai for an Aston? Powdered milk for the real thing?
Simone touched her sister’s arm. “Did you tell him it was me and not you?”
“He figured it out. Obviously, someone like me wouldn’t be shacked up with this guy.”
Again, that bitterness. My impression of Selena Bishop was quickly shifting from irritation to significant dislike.
“How much?” I asked. Better get to the point.
“Brendan, I don’t think that’s what she’s here for,” Simone said lightly.
I shook my head. “It’s why she’s here, angel. Isn’t it, Selena?”
The woman narrowed her eyes at me, but she didn’t argue.
“So? How much does this fucker want to leave Simone and her family the fuck alone? With an NDA and a restraining order too.” Simone opened her mouth again, but I shook my head.
“No, baby. I don’t want this blackmailing asshole within a hundred yards of you or yours.
If I’m paying him off, I’m doing it right. ”
Playing nice with blackmail artists wasn’t my general modus operandi, but I was willing to do anything to wipe the fear and dread off Simone’s beautiful face. And to get her moldy sponge of a sister the fuck out of my house.
“So?” I turned to Selena. “How much?”
I could see dollar signs rising in the girl’s black-rimmed eyes.
But before she could open her mouth, Simone spoke up. “No. Selena, I told you to figure this out yourself, didn’t I? I gave you the money for the loan repayment Why is he asking for more? Why does he think you’ll give it to him?”
Selena stared at her hands and said something.
“What was that?” I snapped. “I don’t understand Mumble.”
“Brendan.” Simone gave me a look.
But I wasn’t paying attention. Her sister was the one whose answer I wanted.
“I said, I didn’t give all the money,” Selena spat out.
Disappointment and anger colored Simone’s sweet face. “What? Why?”
“Why do you think? Because I needed it, you idiot!” Selena exploded.
I immediately inserted myself between them. “Yeah, that’s going to stop right now. You talk to her with respect, or you only talk to me. And I’ll tell you right now, I’m nowhere near as nice as your sister.”
Selena glared at me for several long moments before falling back into her seat. “Fine. Sorry. Whatever.”
Reluctantly, I stepped back.
“Sel. Why didn’t you give him the money?” Simone tried again.
“Because I have a four-year-old,” Selena said. “Because I have shit to do. Because there are no jobs out there, and I don’t want to work at Dunkin’. Pick one.” She shrugged. “I gave him some, and then gave him some more after I sold off some of Mom’s jewelry.”
“What?!” Simone looked horrified. “Where did you find that?”
Selena rolled her eyes. “On your nightstand before that pushy broad came to get your things. I figured I could have some too. After all, Mom would have wanted me to use them, and it’s not fair you just took them all.”