Dominic
Dammit! I was staring at the phone again, willing for her to call. I was a mental and physical mess. Everything I’d done in the past year had been completely fucked up, and I only had myself to blame.
There was simply no excuse for my lunatic behavior. After my younger brother told me he was going to propose to Trina, I’d swung into action, sure that the gold-digger would reveal her true colors when a richer man came along.
I’d accosted the redhead at the catering event, convinced that the luscious, curvy girl had to be the temptress Trina. And she’d been sweet and innocent, her body giving and plush as she spent one memorable, earth-shattering night in my arms, sweetly writhing with pleasure, utterly responsive and giving.
The redhead had been shocked the next morning when I’d accused her of seducing Caleb, explaining that she was actually Becca, Trina’s twin.
But I’d refused to believe it. Because … I wanted to keep her for myself. This has been the hardest admission for me. I was jealous that my twenty-one year old brother had found someone so sweet, so giving and delicious, whereas I was nearing my forties after a string of failed relationships. I wanted this girl … and so I kept her.
I don’t know what bizarre rationalizations ran through my head, but it must have been bad. I kidnapped Becca to my own private island, basically turning her into a sex slave. But it had become something more. I respected the woman, her sweet demeanor, her pleasure in nature and beauty, and her keen, discerning intelligence. She’d helped edit my latest book, and it was only right that I dedicated it to my “Little One.”
But I’d gone and fucked everything up again. Caleb had called from New York, ecstatically declaring that Trina had accepted his proposal. It was then that I knew for sure that Becca was in fact a twin. I’d already known in my heart of hearts that the girl I loved couldn’t be a ruthless gold-digger, but now the real Trina was making her move.
I’d contacted Trina and basically bribed her. If she didn’t marry Caleb, I’d buy her a garish diamond necklace, which was already waiting for her at Tiffany’s. Sure enough, the girl made a trip to the store that very same day, and broke off the engagement.
But I wanted to get the bitch away from Caleb, period, so I flew Trina to Koh-i-Noor, my island paradise. It was a fucking disaster. The blood had immediately drained from Becca’s face when she realized who was deplaning, her eyes wide and shimmering with tears at her sister’s callous comments. I’d overheard everything, though I pretended not to.
And I’d added fuel to the fire, spending my free time with Trina, basically ignoring Becca to cavort about the island with her sister. Nana’s eyes had followed me sadly whenever I returned, saying nothing but also everything at once.
“Becca, she in her room alone again,” she said.
“Oh Becca will be fine,” I’d said carelessly. “Trina’s just here for a while.”
But Nana just shook her head sadly, and sure enough, one day Becca was gone.
I’d gone into a furious rage, racing the ATV like a madman all over the island, scanning the seas for some sign of life.
But Nana had shook her head again and merely said, “She at da Big Island now.”
I knew immediately that Becca had hitched a ride with the delivery boat, and was likely long gone by now. My heart had dropped, my face hot with shame, when I realized the humiliation she must have endured. A man she’d freely given herself to, sweetly and with no reserve, was likely fucking her twin sister now right under her nose. Of course she’d left! I berated myself, sinking into a deep depression.
And Trina was a piece of work. She couldn’t understand why I was devastated over Becca’s departure when she was the more beautiful, glamorous twin.
“Becca’s just an editor, you can find one of those anywhere,” she’d scoffed after my second day of gloom. “Why, I could do her work myself,” she’d said.
“Hands off my manuscript,” I’d snarled. “You’ve barely got enough brains for half a person, much less the wit and intelligence of your sister.”
She’d been shocked, genuinely surprised that any man would pick Becca over herself. But she’d flounced off, not caring what happened so long as her material needs were met.
“You’re not even a man!” she’d screamed shrilly. “You were always too scared to fuck me, fucking asshole!” she cursed.
Because I’d never touched Trina, always rebuffing her physical advances. I don’t know, it just made me sick to share something so special, so sacred with another woman after I’d spent those magical nights with Little One. Everyone else seemed polluted or rotted, especially the garbage that was Trina.
I’d turned away resolutely, my face set in stone. There was nothing Trina could say that would rattle me, I just didn’t care about her. But Becca … oh god, what have I done?