by S. E. Law
But Rev is a confident man in the face of adversity, and between his incredible looks and oodles of money, I consider myself lucky to be dating him. We met just six months ago at a charity benefit. I was there because my friend Amanda’s parents bought her a ticket, but she got sick at the last minute. She gave me her ticket because it cost three hundred dollars, and no one else could go.
So I threw on a dress and showed up at the Armory with a hesitant smile, still a little wobbly in my high heels. It was intimidating because the charity event was more of a ball, with lots of fancy people in penguin suits and designer dresses. I’m sure I stood out in my little Ann Taylor cocktail dress. Nonetheless, it seemed okay. I was milling about with a flute of champagne in my hand, unsure where to go next, when suddenly, there was a low voice at my elbow.
“I think you’re the only other person here who’s under seventy. Should we toast to that?”
I turned and was bowled off my feet by the man who stood before me. He had to be at least six four, with black as night hair and penetrating blue eyes that made me feel like I was nude, right there in the middle of the charity ball. My cheeks flushed and I wobbled even more in my high heels, but then a bronzed hand reached out to steady me.
“You’re doing fine,” he said in a low voice. “Had a little too much to drink, hmm? Why don’t we go out onto the balcony and get some fresh air?”
I could hardly believe my luck. We certainly were not the only people under seventy at the ball. In fact, there were lots of ladies who looked to be in their twenties and thirties shooting us daggers at this very minute. Or more accurately, they were giving me the evil eye while throwing lustful glances at my handsome suitor.
Even more surprising, when we got to talking, I found out that the handsome man wasn’t just good to look at, but he was filthy rich too.
“Oh yeah, I’ve got a Lamborghini and a Maserati,” he said carelessly while pulling out a vape pen. “It’s great. I love taking my cars on roads that wind to test their power and performance. You ever been to Bear Mountain? I own a cabin there, and I could show you around.”
I shot him a puzzled look.
“I thought Bear Mountain consists of protected state lands,” were my confused words. “How do you have a private cabin there?”
Rev merely grinned and took a deep inhale on his vape pen before letting smoke drift from his nostrils. It wasn’t the most attractive sight, but then again, I was alone in the dusky twilight with a handsome man who evidently owned two luxury cars in New York City. Most people don’t own even one car because parking is so expensive and driving is a nightmare. So to have two really set him apart.
Plus, as a curvy girl, I know that opportunities like this are scarce. Most guys who hit on me think that I’m “easy” because I’m big and no one wants me. They think they can sleep with me and treat me like crap afterwards, while hunting for a skinny woman that they’d actually be proud to be seen with. It’s sad but true, and I’m jaded from multiple experiences where this happened. As a result, I counted myself lucky to be alone with such a gorgeous guy.
The handsome man winked at me while taking another drag.
“Sure, Bear Mountain is protected, but the rules are different for rich people,” he drawled. “If you know the right folks, you can get a slice of just about anything. You want to come up with me this weekend?”
I stared at him but then nodded dumbly.
“Sure. Um, sounds good. But can I get your name again? I’m sorry, because I know you told me but I couldn’t hear because the orchestra started playing really loud.”
The man let out a low laugh and grinned in the darkness, his white teeth flashing.
“Sure thing. I’m Rev Randler. Google it.”
I gasped and stammered something in return, and to be honest, I can’t remember many more specifics from that night. Rev spun me out onto the dance floor for some dirty dancing, and then put me into a town car with a suggestive kiss as his blue eyes promised more. My number was already in his phone, and as I gazed out from the car window at the city rolling past, I didn’t really see anything. Could it be true? Had I just spent an entire evening in the arms of a handsome billionaire? It felt like a dream from Cinderella, and not my real life.
Of course, the minute I got home, I pulled out my laptop and immediately googled him. Sure enough, there were multiple articles about Rev Randler which named him “Entrepreneur of the Year” and a “40 Under 40” worth following. I learned all about Jem Vape and also how Rev pioneered the entire industry single-handedly. I was impressed, and totally flabbergasted that he wanted to take me out.
After all, I’m bigger than your average girl. They say that the average American woman is a size 12-16, but I’m way beyond that. I only wear women’s sizes, and those sizes generally start with a “2.” As a result, I have to shop in the Plus section at department stores, and have encountered more than one saleslady looking at me with ill-concealed pity.
But no more. Rev and I have been dating a couple months now, and it’s been a lovely whirlwind. Rev has been the perfect suitor. He took me to his cabin at Bear Mountain where we holed up and made love. Then he also took me to ski in Aspen, where once again, we ignored the slopes and merely enjoyed hot times in each other’s arms in his private cabin. Plus, Rev has a cook, did I mention? He invites me to his apartment in New York on a regular basis, and we eat dinner together before snuggling up and enjoying each other’s bodies.
Now, Rev Randler is taking me, Catherine Strong, out for Valentine’s Day! We’re just going to a house party, but it’s fine. I don’t mind because the fact that we’re doing anything on this day together is auspicious. Plus, given that Rev’s friend is hosting it, I wouldn’t be surprised if the party’s being held in a super swanky loft with twenty-foot high ceilings and chandeliers.
I step out of the bathroom wearing my red dress and twirl around for Alexandra to see.
“Ta-da!” I exclaim. “What do you think?”
When I stop spinning her mouth is open and her blue eyes wide.
“Oh no,” I say. “It’s awful isn’t it? I look like a dumpling stuffed into a too-tight sausage casing.”
“No, no,” says Alex quickly. “It’s not that at all. In fact, the opposite. You look amazing Catherine. If Rev doesn’t ask you to marry him tonight, I’d be surprised.”
I gawk at her for a moment, but then recover.
“Marriage? I don’t think so. We’ve only been dating a few months. I haven’t met his family, or even his friends really. We’ve been getting to know each other on the fast track, so most of the time, we spend time alone with one another.”
Alex nods.
“Totally get it. When I first started dating Kirby, I also fell off the map, remember?”
I laugh.
“Yeah, you disappeared because you were always with him. I started getting concerned that you weren’t even enrolled in classes anymore.”
My friend lets out a chuckle.
“I know. It’s because I was always with Kirby – in his room, at the library, or at the coffee shop. It was new love, and we were basically joined at the hip. Or joined you-know-where,” she says in a naughty tone.
I laugh because Rev and I have a wonderful physical connection too. In fact, I wonder if it’s too physical. Last time, when I wanted to talk after making love, he merely rolled over and started snoring. I couldn’t shake him awake no matter how hard I tried, and by morning, I’d forgotten what I wanted to say myself. So I can totally understand Alex’s experience.
“Yeah, but tonight, I’m actually going to meet his friends. He’s taking me to his buddy Reed’s place. I guess Reed is a bachelor who’s having a house party on Valentine’s Day, and I’m going to meet a lot of Rev’s social circle finally.”
Alex nods approvingly.
“Yeah, see? That’s why I think you guys are on the marriage track. He’s introducing you to his friends, then he’ll introduce you to his family, and then soon you’ll h
ave a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly.”
I let out a small whoop of laughter even as my cheeks go pink.
“It’s a little early for that, Alex,” I admonish playfully. “Rev and I don’t know each other that well yet.”
But in my heart of hearts, I know I want a baby. I’ve always looked forward to being a mother, and my pulse races at the thought of starting a family. Could it happen with Rev? On the one hand, it seems like it would be nice. He’s rich, he’s smart, and he’s successful. Plus, he adores his dog Dover, and spends oodles of money on Dover’s food, grooming, and care.
But on the other hand, being a pet parent is really different from being a human parent. Plus, come to think of it, Rev outsources a lot of Dover’s care. A dogwalker comes twice a day, and when I’m over at his place, Rev often asks me to take Dover out to pee because he’s too busy looking at stocks or watching the news. Of course, I say yes. I adore the big black lab, and don’t mind bringing him downstairs for a walk around the block.
But I can’t tell Alex all this right now because it’s projecting too far ahead into the future.
“I’m just excited to be meeting Rev’s friends finally,” I say with a smile. “And on Valentine’s too!”
Alex nods.
“You’ll knock their socks off,” she says. “You’re charming and beautiful, Cat. Who wouldn’t love you?”
I smile, my heart growing warm, but then the buzzer rings, and I leap into motion.
“Rev’s downstairs,” I say in a hurried voice. “He doesn’t like to wait, so I’ve got to go, okay? Stay sweet and have a wonderful Valentine’s night with Kirby. Give him my love!” I call while dashing out the door.
Alexandra merely waves at me with a big smile on her face.
“You got it girl. Remember what I said: tonight’s the night for a diamond ring!”
I merely wave again and clatter down the stairs to the front door of the apartment building. My heart leaps when hearing her words, but then plummets because I’m not sure that getting married is right for me just yet. Wait a minute, what am I thinking? I’m dating a handsome billionaire who adores me, and he’s a good doggy daddy. I should count my blessings because when is a chance like this going to come around again?
Once outside on the sidewalk, I see the black Rolls Royce parked at the curb and immediately scurry over.
“Sorry,” I say hurriedly while opening the door and sliding in. “I just finished getting ready.”
Rev’s in the backseat, and I’m surprised again by how large he is. The backseat of the Rolls Royce is huge, but somehow, it seems like the car is too small for him. As usual, my boyfriend is insanely handsome, with ebony hair brushed off his forehead, piercing blue eyes, and a square jaw that looks chiseled from granite. He’s wearing a dark suit, with a snowy collar which shows off his tanned skin. Yet, the look on his face makes him seem a tad less handsome, if you ask me. He’s got a slight scowl and his dark brows are drawn down in slashes.
“It’s fine. You’re not too late,” he says in a slightly irritated tone. “Let’s go, Rufus,” he directs the driver.
The Rolls pulls away from the curb and I smile brightly at him.
“So where does your friend live?”
Rev looks down at his phone but doesn’t answer.
“Rev,” I repeat. “Where are we going? Westchester? Brooklyn? Chelsea?”
He turns and fixes me with a slightly condescending look.
“Cat, do you really think I have any friends who live in Westchester or Brooklyn?”
I cock my head at him.
“Why, what’s wrong with Westchester or Brooklyn?”
Rev shrugs and looks down at his phone again.
“It’s just that those places are the boonies, and people really only live there because they want to save money. My friends can afford to live in Manhattan. Why not?” he asks.
I stare at him again.
“But it doesn’t sound bad to want to save money, even if you’re really rich,” I say slowly. “I mean, even though I do okay for myself, I still like to shop sales and look for bargains. It’s called being frugal, and smart with saving.”
He shrugs again.
“Well, on my dime, you won’t have to wait for a sale ever again. We can afford to pay full price.”
I stare at him, about to say something about how Westchester and Brooklyn are very nice places to inhabit. In fact, there are people who are multi-millionaires who live in expensive townhomes and sprawling estates in Westchester and Brooklyn, so they’re hardly poverty-stricken areas. But I bite my lip because my heart leaps at the Rev’s insinuation that in the future, we’ll be together and I’ll never have to shop a sale again. That means he’s going to provide for me, right? Was Alexandra right? Is he thinking of proposing tonight?
But we lapse into silence as the car barrels through the narrow Manhattan streets, and finally, we pull up before a gleaming apartment building. It’s got a circular driveway, and the building itself is made out of solid, expensive-looking granite. A doorman leaps forward to open the door for me once we come to a stop, and I get out onto a fancy, cobblestoned drive.
Rev takes my arm, and leads me into the bright lights of the lobby.
“Mr. Randler,” the concierge says in a courteous tone. “Welcome back.”
Rev grins and shakes his head.
“No, I’m not that Mr. Randler. I’m the other one.”
The concierge looks surprised but merely nods his head without commenting. As we walk further into the lobby, I poke Rev and ask, “What was that about? Why aren’t you Mr. Randler?”
He grins and turns to me, blue eyes flashing.
“Well, the host of this party is also named Randler, actually.”
I squint.
“Oh that’s a coincidence. Randler’s an uncommon name, but I guess it’s not that uncommon either.”
He nods.
“Yeah, you’ll see. It’s a surprise, sweetheart.”
He guides me across the sparkling lobby floors to a pair of gold elevator doors.
“So I’ll be meeting your friends right?” I say. “Is this other Randler having a ton of people over?”
Rev is mysteriously silent, although he grins with a devilish look in his eye. The door opens, saving him from answering.
“Come on sweetheart,” he says, ushering me into a gilded box. But he won’t say more as the elevator begins its ascent, and I’m confused. What’s so mysterious on Valentine’s Day?
When the doors open again, my gorgeous boyfriend takes my elbow in his hand and guides me to what appears to be the only door in the hallway.
“Oh nice. Private entrance?” I ask.
Rev nods again, his expression slightly secretive, and then he knocks on the door.
“Yo,” he calls out. “I’m here.”
A look of perplexment crosses my features. He certainly knows this friend really well if Rev’s comfortable with “Yo” as a greeting.
But then the door swings open, and the sounds of a party drift out. There’s the musical clinking of champagne flutes, as well as the tinkling laughter of women and faint strains of music. But all that fades to nothingness as I stare at the man before me because he’s a replica of Rev. He’s just as tall, just as dark, and even more forbidding with a dangerous gleam in those blue eyes. His handsome chiseled features are identical to my boyfriend’s, and he’s just as physically fit with broad shoulders, a wide chest, and long, powerful legs clad in a dark trousers.
“Hey brother,” the dark man growls. “Welcome. Come in, and let’s get you settled. Who do we have here?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at me.
Rev smirks.
“Reed, meet Cat. Cat, meet Reed, my twin brother. It’s time you knew that I have a twin … and that we’re identical.”
I gasp, my cheeks growing red as I meet the eyes of Reed Randler. Holy cow, identical twins? Why didn’t Rev mention this fact before? Yet as I look into Reed Randler’s eyes, the
re’s something different about him. I can’t put my finger on it quite yet, but the air is thick with electricity and excitement. Somehow, I know that my life is about to take a hard left, and my heart beats with anticipation.
82
Reed
Holy shit, what has my brother landed upon? Usually, Rev dates a certain type of skank: blonde and thin as a rail, with a coked-up look in her eyes. More often than not, they’ve indulged in illegal drugs together, and they both tend to look pretty strung out when I see them.
Chalk it up to the stress in my brother’s life if you will, but I think it’s more than that. I think it’s the fact that our parents left us in charge of a multi-billion dollar enterprise when they passed. Although most people don’t know it, we’re actually the co-owners of the House of Permian. We make haute couture as well as ready to wear lines, and put out the most exquisite shoes and jackets. But our go-to is really handbags. Over the last few decades, the House of Permian has become known for its elegant handbags crafted from quilted leather with distinctive chain straps. Our bags retail for five figures, and women all over the world snap them up as the ultimate status symbol.
But it hasn’t always been roses at the House of Permian. Our company was actually founded by Coco Permian in France during the early 1920’s. Our grandfather was already a successful industrialist by then, and he invested seed funding with Coco so that the company could expand its production and marketing efforts. But during World War II, Coco sought to wrest her company away from our grandfather by claiming that we were Jewish. Jewish people were being dispossessed of their property left and right during that period, and Coco made false claims in order to rip the House of Permian out of my grandfather’s hands.
Fortunately, old Art Randler was a canny one. My grandfather could see Coco’s maneuvering from a mile away, and when she made her accusations, he was prepared. He fired right back with a family genealogy that showed that not only were we not Jewish, but that we were in fact descended from a line of French nobility which included Catholic popes. Coco was shocked to find out, and gave up her claims to the House of Permian permanently, ceding total control of the company to my grandfather.