Chapter 14
MIA
“Mimi!” I barely get a second to register my brother's shout before he lifts me straight off the floor in a bear hug.
“Nicholas, put me down you dork.” He laughs, following orders before bringing his forehead to mine.
“You okay with this, sis?” His words are barely audible, concern lacing his green eyes.
Goddammit, I’ve managed to avoid this conversation with him for months.
But of course, he knows how I feel. He always fucking knows.
It’s the only downside of being a twin. I’ve never even been able to keep a secret from him for long, especially when we’re together.
Why did I think this would be any different? He’ll see through all my bullshit.
It’s fine. It’s all fine. You’re a strong independent woman who doesn’t want to cry because her toxic ex is here.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
Swallowing the swell of emotion clogging my throat, I nod, forcing a smile across my face before throwing my arms around his neck. The move will fool exactly no one, especially my twin, but there's no way I’m letting my prick of an ex ruin Nick’s wedding.
“So excited. You did good, bro! Santorini is stunning.”
Well, that part isn’t a lie at least.
Nick was adamant that he wanted to get married on the cliffs of Santorini and stay at a famous luxury cave hotel. I thought he would be booking the hotel for their honeymoon, but instead he’s paid for us all to stay here.
The hotel only has thirteen suites, and usually it’s shut down in November because it’s considered off-peak and gets a little colder, but Nick’s friends with the GM. Apparently, it pays to know people in high places.
Before he moved to the UK, he’d done really well for himself working on Wall Street—think Wolf of Wall Street with way less drama—and he’s still doing the same work, only in London.
This place isn’t cheap. I looked it up when he’d first mentioned it and I almost collapsed at the price of a room for a week, so fuck only knows how much he’s paying to privately book it.
Maybe my twin's a closeted millionaire or some shit. Should I be offended I had no idea?
For the next couple weeks, we’ll feel like movie stars, having this whole place to ourselves. And, of course, lucky bastard that he is, the weather's unseasonably warm, so location alone makes what I’m about to go through worth it.
That might change when I come face to face with the toxic toad, but right now, two weeks in paradise sounds like just what the doctor ordered.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you, Mimi.” Squeezing me tightly one last time, he drops a kiss on my forehead before his arm falls away to root through his pockets.
“I’m so glad you guys could make the trip. Layla can’t wait to see you.” He hands me a white plastic keycard. “Here’s your room key. I’ve also allocated you one of the pool beds to watch the sunset tonight so meet us out there at seven. That cool?”
“Sir, yes Sir.” I army salute him with a grin.
“Brat.” He sticks his tongue out and just like that we’re teenagers again.
“So what’s the plan while we’re here?”
Pleeeeeease say it’s a super chill, low key, activity attendance optional.
“The itinerary for the rest of the trip is in your room. Promise I made sure to leave some downtime, too. Plus, I picked a very special activity we’ll be doing just for you…”
Itinerary. Goddammit.
Nick grins mischievously before his gaze shifts over my shoulder. His eyes harden when they land on Swayze, who’s been standing silently behind me this whole time.
Well, that’s new.
Nick’s looking a little murderous, which is totally unlike him, especially with Swayze. These two were best friends growing up. He’s the best man, for fuck’s sake.
“Swayze.” He stands up straight, squaring his shoulders rigidly, his tone cool, almost clipped.
“Nicholas,” Swayze volleys back.
“What’s this I hear about you fucking my sister, ‘Ze? Please tell me mom was talking out of her ass?”
“Uhh, no.” Swayze steps right up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my head.
Oh shit. For a second, I totally forgot about our grand plan. Crying over the ex would’ve looked ridiculous when we’re supposed to be coupled up. Lucky one of us hasn’t dropped the ball.
Nick studies us both. The trademark easy grin falls away, his jaw setting so tight it looks ready to snap. Oh boy, he’s mad. Definitely madder than when I stole his favorite GI Joe to marry my Barbie, then lost him.
“Niko—”
“Don’t Niko me, Mia. This is between me and Swayze.”
Excuse me? Not a fucking chance, brother. That patriarchal bullshit doesn't fly with me.
“No, actually it’s between me and Swayze. The cock I choose to fuck is absolutely none of your concern whatsoever, so do you want to try that again, Nicholas?”
Proooobably didn’t have to get quite as sexual, but I act out when people tell me no. It’s a whole thing.
Swayze’s silent chuckle vibrates against my back. The array of emotions that play across Nick’s face is priceless, going from anger to shock to disgust before settling on sheepish.
“Sorry, Mimi. Just thought it would’ve been nice to hear directly from my best mate that he’s fucking my baby sister instead of our mom delivering the news.”
He glares pointedly at Swayze.
“You know, bro code and all that.”
Baby? We’re twins. He’s older by five fucking minutes, not five years.
Before I can point out that little truth nugget, Swayze’s voice rumbles through me, making me shiver.
“It felt more like an in-person conversation. But I get it. I’m sorry, bro. We didn’t mean for you to find out that way. Your mom got a little… excited, I guess.” Swayze winces, looking at Nick apologetically, while running his palms up and down my arms.
Nick tracks the movement before studying Swayze silently, his jaw tense.
“I don’t like this, dude. If you hurt her, you know we’re done, right? I’ll always choose her. I don’t give a fuck if you’re a cop, I’ll kill you and toss you off this damn cliff.”
Jesus, who is this? Rambo? Where did my happy-go-lucky twin go?
Guilt prickles my skin at seeing my usually chill brother radiating so much anger toward Swayze of all people.
It’s my fault.
He’s been forced to lie to his best friend, because of me.
Once the wedding’s over, I’ll tell Nick the truth. I don’t want anything to come between their friendship, especially a straight-up lie we’ve manufactured because of the toad. He’s done enough damage already. I refuse to let him destroy their friendship too.
It’s not all a lie. You have actually fucked. Twice.
Need-to-know basis, though. That’s something he doesn’t need to know. A drunk fuck is hardly considered a relationship.
Swayze’s hands fall away from me, and he walks over to Nick, hand outstretched.
“Niko, I’d sooner have you punch me in the balls than do anything to hurt your sister. You should know that. I promise you, she’s safe with me.”
I can’t see Swayze’s face, but he sounds sincere by the deep, unwavering timbre of his words.
Yay me.
My brother grabs his hand, pulling him into a back-slapping man hug.
“You fucking better not. She’s special. I’m trusting you with my twin. Don’t let me down.”
“If we’re quite done talking about my vagina without me, I really need a shower, so could we get going before our parents arrive and all hell breaks loose?”
Swayze and I did catch one tiiiiiiiny lucky break today.
There were too many of us to fit in one cab, so we took one and our parents waited for a second. After Mom’s sex-ed talk in security, I could do with a few hours to myself to wash my ears out with soap.
You know, since drowning my sorrows in alcohol is probably not an option this early into the vacation.
Or at all.
I’ll never live that down. It’s not like I have a sex toy shortage on this damn trip. What was I thinking, throwing the stupid thing into my carry-on?
Clearly, I wasn’t.
Nick nods stiffly glancing between us. “So you two… uhh… are sharing a room, right? Sorry, this’ll be really fucking weird for a while.”
“We are, even though Wolfie snores so loud at home I sometimes force him to sleep on the couch.” I laugh, but even to my own ears it sounds totally fake.
“At least the room fuck up isn’t an issue so I guess thats a little silver lining, if I can shake the mental image of my best mate violating my baby sis.”
“Enough with the baby, you’re five minutes older, dude. You don’t get to pull rank. Keep it up, and I’ll start telling you about the many ways my Wolff likes to violate me.”
Swayze barks out a laugh, and Nick turns a little green, so I think I win this round.
Nick hurriedly waves us away, pointing to the corridor on the left. That, like everything else around us, looks like it’s been carved out of endless smooth, white stone.
Excitement bubbles in my blood when a concierge greets us and takes our luggage from Swayze. With his hand free, he slides it into mine, gripping it with a squeeze.
I don’t hate it.
It's almost like we’re a team. Us against the world.
Except it’s not real.
We follow the attendant back outside and down a cobbled pathway, passing multiple white doors gleaming in the bright sunlight, until all too soon we come to a stop at ours.
This is it, now we’ll have to live in this one room together for two weeks.
Nerves flutter in my belly while I watch the guy scan our keycard to enter. Why am I even nervous, for fuck’s sake? We’re already roommates. This won’t be much different, right?
It’ll be fine.
It’s all fine.
He holds the door open for us to pass, and my jaw immediately hits the floor when I step inside.
The room's stunning. White walls are interspersed with black mirrors and artwork. Gleaming gray wood floors shine in the sun, with a huge cozy looking king-size bed on one side.
And the best part is, the open unobstructed view of our own private pool overlooking the ocean… or what did Nick call it? The Caldera.
I’ve never set foot in a place this amazing. I leave Swayze with the luggage and walk out to the pool area. A dark wooden platform covered with a plush mattress juts from the edge of the pool to sit on the water.
It looks like it’s a bed floating on the water… a pool bed.
Not sure if that’s the technical term, but it works. I’m calling dibs on it to be my office while I’m here.
Walking past the pool to the end of our—what do I call it? Patio?—I look over the cliffs to the water and have the undeniable urge to stand with my arms outstretched, Titanic style. It might not be a boat, but that view's something else.
“You flying, Rose?” Swayze steps up behind me, slipping his arms around my waist.
Jumping, I let out an undignified squeak, making us both laugh.
“Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help it.” He holds his hands out, palms up, giving me a wide smile.
He’s pretty when he smiles. He doesn’t do it nearly enough.
Stop it, Mia. What are you doing? You’re not supposed to crush on your fake boyfriend.
“So that went well, huh?” His smile morphs, looking way more mischievous than it did a second ago.
“Oh yeah? What was your highlight? Was it my mom’s sex-ed lecture? Or maybe you holding my vibrator up like you were air traffic control? Wait, actually maybe that’s my highlight.”
“I was talking about Nick finding out we’re dating. He took it better than I expected, all things considered.” He quirks a brow at me.
“Fake dating,” I toss out, because maybe we both need the reminder.
“I’m aware, Mia.”
Poof.
All traces of his mischievous smile slip away as his face settles back into the rigid, cold mask I’ve gotten used to seeing for the better part of the last year.
Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the problem.
Okay, fine, it’s definitely my fault.
I totally get that.
Apparently, I blink and turn into the fun police.
“I’m s—”
“I’ll t—”
“You go.” I nod at him to continue so we can get this over with and stop standing here awkwardly.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa. You take the bed.” He jerks his head in the direction of a gray sectional tucked in the opposite corner of the room. I hadn’t even noticed that in my race to get out here, but it looks a little small for a guy his size.
“You sure? I don’t mind sleeping on that. I’m smaller, and we know I can sleep anywhere.”
“No chance, Mia.”
“Umm, okay, thanks. Do you mind if I catch up on some work?”
“Why would I mind? I’m not your boyfriend, as you’re always so quick to point out.” The muscle in his jaw ticks. “I’m sure as shit not your keeper.” He pulls his shirt over his head.
Soooooo, I guess that’s settled then.
“Do whatever the fuck you want, Mia. I’m going for a swim.”
I wince as he stalks past me, disappearing inside.
Damn, I really pissed him off with the fake line. Even though it’s the freakin’ truth. There’s nothing real about us.
Bikini on, laptop in hand, I flop on the pool bed, fully intending to work—maybe work on my tan a tiny bit too—but I lose minutes of my life trying to connect my laptop to the hotel Wi-Fi. Why does every hotel make it stupidly complicated?
First name, birthday, reason for stay, confirm email, confirm passcode.
Fuck me, do I have to offer up my firstborn just to answer some work emails?
A splash draws my attention away from the annoying spinning hourglass and—
Sweet baby Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I’m pretty sure a god fell out of the sky and crash-landed in our pool.
Swayze slowly stands up, pushing wet hair off his forehead, and the water streaming down his inked wet muscles makes him glisten in the sun.
He’s glittering, like a damn vampire straight out of Twilight, but hotter.
Waaaaaay hotter.
Like, drool-worthy. A valid concern, given the suspicious wet drop that just hit my arm.
You know that David Gandy Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue Advert? If you don’t, do yourself a favor and look that up, then multiply it by one hundred. That’s what I’m dealing with right now.
Bitch, why are you complaining?
I hear you. I do.
But imma need him to tone down the sex god a few notches for my sanity.
He’s already way more touchy-feely when we’re around people. I know he’s supposed to be, but like, he’s extra.
I’ve never met a girlfriend, so I genuinely have no clue how he’d act in a relationship.
He’s always given off the anti-relationship vibes, and he’s never been overly affectionate with the girls he hooks up with when he goes out.
If anything, they drape themselves all over him while he does the bare minimum… because of course, he’s hot.
But here… not only do I have to deal with inked Hercules on steroids, but he’s also taken some intensive “boyfriend course” I don’t know about.
If I were less damaged, I’d be seriously worried. We’ve all read romance books. Fake dating turned real feelings, blah blah blah.
My heart's so black, I’m only capable of surface level these days.
But just because my heart's dead and buried, it doesn’t mean everything is. And judging by the flutters partying in my bikini bottoms right now, other parts of me are more than happy to fill the void.
Fuck, I’m so damn horny, and it’s only day one.
Pray for me.