Stealing Her (Covet 1)

I grabbed the new cell phone out of my pocket.

The one with every number preprogrammed for me, for the new Julian. I’d felt like a prostitute when my father gave it to me, with a gleam in his eye like he had me exactly where he wanted me.

Which was bullshit. I’d be leaving the minute Julian woke up. I refused to let my dad think he had the upper hand. He needed me more than I needed him, and that was a fact. Besides, it was temporary. I knew he would have the best doctors fixing up Julian to the point where he would probably walk out of that hospital looking better than the day before the accident.

I just hoped it was sooner rather than later, because every time Izzy looked at me, I felt guilty. Every time she touched me and her expression went from hurt to soft, I wanted to pummel my twin—and probably would, once he woke up.

I couldn’t keep up this ruse forever. We might look alike, but we were clearly two very different people with different morals and different interests.

He might prefer brunettes, but I was starting to prefer blondes.

Shit, I should have thought this through more. The last thing I needed was one more regret between me and my brother, one more thing separating us from each other.

It was like being stuck in the Twilight Zone, and I hated that there were innocent people involved, people like Izzy.

I swallowed the dryness in my throat.

One thing was at least clear.

She hated Julian.

And she mourned the loss of what they used to have.

She also needed him. He was all she had left, and that was enough for her to stay. I knew how charismatic my brother could be. Hell, he talked himself out of a C in chemistry in eighth grade; it had taken him twenty minutes.

He won student of the week.

He set his eyes on something, he got it. Period.

My father had done a good job grooming him into his Edward Tennyson mini-me. If she was still here, my bet was that he gave her just enough to keep her by his side and made her pay for it when she didn’t fall at his feet in thankfulness.

With a sigh, I typed in the address for grocery delivery. Amazon could deliver within the hour.

Perfect.

I grabbed his wallet—not mine, his. I stared at his picture on his license. I held his heavy black card in my hand and felt like I was in over my head.

I tapped the black card against my fingertips and started typing out the numbers that would be my secret prison over the next few weeks.

I shoved the wallet back into my expensive slacks and wondered if the guy had anything other than clothes that belonged in a boardroom.

The groceries wouldn’t be there for an hour.

The least I could do was change into something comfortable and watch some TV, or even study the several digital portfolios my father had sent to me via Julian’s email.

I had his briefcase as well, with details of the buyout highlighted for me to read.

I didn’t get to just pretend to live his life.

I had to become him.

I could only hope that I wouldn’t fall victim to the manipulations too. As long as I remembered who the real monster was, I wouldn’t succumb to my greed like Julian had, I wouldn’t let it control me. I would keep my focus.

And I would keep my promise.

I stumbled into the bedroom, careful to keep quiet. Izzy was on her side, her delicate hands tucked beneath her chin, her breathing heavy. Good, she needed to sleep, she deserved sleep, my brother was probably the type of guy that would wake up a perfectly happy woman and ask for a blow job. I wouldn’t put it past him.

I ignored the pull to her, the need to grab the purple afghan and drape it over her small body. I also ignored the way I wanted to stare at her curves.

I was being incredibly creepy.

She wasn’t mine to stare at or to want.

And yet a tiny voice in my head said she was.

That she was more mine than she was his.

Because at least when I looked at her, I saw her.

“Do whatever it takes. Izzy won’t say a word against you, but you have to make her believe it, she’ll have questions . . . if you need to make her feel like she’s going insane, so be it.” Father chuckled as anger boiled to the surface of my psyche. I could kill him and feel no guilt. How did a person get to that place?

I shook my head and walked into the large closet. It had a chandelier hanging in the middle, a couch with a minibar right next to it, and a flat-screen. It was a mix between a living room and a closet.