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If you ever think being screamed at by someone is humiliating, I can tell you this is worse. My sister’s quietly spoken, adult language—that’s somehow still full of compassion even as she tells me, rightfully so, what a shit human I am—is much,muchworse.
Mike steers her away from me and I have this deep, irrational fear that he’s going to take her away forever. He doesn’t like me—that was clear from the very first time I met him. Fine. The feeling is mutual. But I don’t want to lose my sister.
I stand in the middle of the room, watched by all these elegantly dressed people, and I don’t think it can get any worse.
Until it does.
A tall, handsome man walks through the doors and Mike immediately rushes over to him. Their eyes drift in my direction, and a smirk tugs at the handsome man’s lips. I know that smirk and I instinctively know this man is Flynn Lewis, best man and giant pain in the ass.
Also known as Mr. Suit.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Flynn
ISHOULDHAVEknown that the maid of honour would throw a spanner in the works. But turning up to a cocktail party in costume, even after receiving the invite with the dress code clearly stated...well, that’s plain childish. I should have been more suspicious when I didn’t receive a raging email or phone call from her.
Out of nowhere, however, I’m hit with a jolt of lust. The maid of honour is wearing a catsuit so tight it makes her slender legs look like they go on forever. If thiswasa costume competition, then she’d be the front-runner. But we’re not at a kid’s birthday party. This is a grown-up event, and she looks ridiculous.
Ridiculously hot?
I shake the inappropriate thought off. My cousin Mike is huffing and puffing about how she’s ruined his fiancée’s night. That she doesn’t care about her sister, only being the centre of attention. I place a hand on his shoulder, wordlessly telling him to calm down. I’ll smooth things over with the wife-to-be and usher Gene Simmons outside so everyone can get on with their night.
Before I even have the chance to ask for an introduction, two women storm up to me. For a moment, my heart fails. Blondie is standing in front of me wearing a gold-and-black dress, looking like she’s about to cry.
“This is my fiancée, Presley Richardson, soon-to-be Presley Lewis.” Mike does his pompous thing and thrusts Blondie toward me. I’m in shock.
How the fuck have I been screwing my cousin’s fiancée?
But there’s no recognition in her eyes. My head is a spinning top. I’m desperately trying to put the pieces together. Did Drew lie to me? Is this some sick coincidence?
“Nice to meet you, Flynn.” She sticks her hand out politely, offering a watery smile that doesn’t feel familiar at all. I don’t detect any hint of connection with her—so either she’s an incredible liar, or I’ve somehow gottenverymixed up.
“Nice to meet you, too.” I shake her hand and feel...nothing.
None of the spark I’ve experienced with Blondie. None of the sizzle and burn.
“We need to talk.” Gene Simmons plants her hands on her hips and purses her lips. Her entire face is covered in paint, a perfect replica of the KISS style. But the second she pulls me away from my furious cousin and his bride-to-be, I’m infused with heat and a wild rush of mixed emotions.
“What on earth are you doing?” I say as she drags me out into the foyer and through to a quiet, unused room.
“I’m wearing the costume I designed for the costume party I planned.” Steam is practically billowing out of her ears.
“A party you planned behind my back. Unsuccessfully, I might add.” Something is ticking in my brain, an uncomfortable feeling that swells the longer I stand in this angry woman’s presence. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Melanie.”
She stares at me for a long, hard second. Then she pulls off the black wig to reveal a shock of platinum white-blond hair. My stomach is roiling. “Actually, my family and friends call me Drew.”
Drew. My naughty next-door neighbour. An identical twin.
I don’t know whether to feel relieved or sick—at least I didn’t accidentally sleep with my cousin’s fiancée. But my sexy, mysterious Drew is none other than the thorn in my side? None other than the maid of honour who’s been making my life difficult?
“Did you know all along?” I ask, stony-faced. I’m not giving her a damn inch until I know more.
“No! Are you kidding me?Whywould I sleep with you if I’d known you were Flynn freaking Lewis, the most irritating, stubborn, stuck-up man on earth?” She pretends to stick a finger down her throat.
“Real mature.”
“Oh, like how you conveniently forgot to send me an invite for the party so I would assume my plans had gone ahead? Yeah, that sounds totally mature, asshole.”
