Duplicity (Jilted Book 1)

by S. M. Shade

  “Mom?”

  Her eyes widen when she sees me. “Kinley. What are you doing here?”

  “I got your message, but you didn’t answer when I tried to call back.”

  Frowning, she picks up her phone and curses under her breath. “I’m out of minutes. Pre-paid piece of shit.”

  Her room is small but tidy, with a bed, desk, and dresser. I take a seat on the bed. “What happened?”

  “That bitch fired me. I missed one shift. One shift because I had a blinding migraine and she let me go. Shouldn’t be surprised. She never liked me.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “Anyway, the house rules say that everyone has to work, so I have a week to find another job or I’m out.”

  “You were bartending?”

  “Yeah, and I’m damn good at it. Never had a customer come in with a drink I couldn’t make.”

  “Listen, I could use someone in the Foxhaven bar for first shift. It won’t pull in a lot of tips, but the pay is better.”

  A smile bursts across her face. “You’d hire me?”

  “If you want, we can go now and get the paperwork filled out, and I’ll introduce you to Kate. She’s the bar manager. I think you’ll like her. Everyone does.”

  She gets up and grabs me in a hug. “Thank you! Just let me go tell that old bitch downstairs I have a new job and I’ll be right behind you.”

  My chest vibrates with anxiety on the ride home. I hope I’m doing the right thing.

  Everything seems to be working out with my mother working here, though Clark and Harriet are both pissed about it. I made it clear that I value their opinions, but it’s my call to make.

  The Labor Day celebration is a little over a week away, then I’ll be off on my trip with Holt. I’m excited. Now that I’ve made a decision and feel confident I could leave Foxhaven for a while and not have it collapse, my mind is full of the adventures that Holt said he’d love to take me on. Whatever he wants to do. Beach, mountains, desert, I’m game.

  He won’t be back from the studio for another half hour or so, and I’m going to surprise him. Anavrin helped me choose the sexy lingerie set I’m wearing under my clothes, one I’m hoping will have him all over me the second he comes through the door. Anticipation builds in my blood as I ride the elevator up, my head full of fantasies of Holt and I with our toes in stone white sand, hiking through forests of giant Sequoia, and naked in random hotels I’m not responsible for.

  A tiny beep accompanies the green light that appears when I swipe my master key card and let myself into his suite. I’ve spent so much time up here over the last months, and it occurs to me I may not be back up here again after this week. We’ll be somewhere else. Seeing things I’ve never seen before. With the only man I’ve ever felt this way about.

  I love him. I haven’t told him because I’ve barely wrapped my own head around it at this point, but I know it’s true. The way his face always lights up when he sees me, and all the things he’s done for me, makes me confident he feels the same way. It’s just a matter of who is going to say it first.

  I’m so lost in my own thoughts it takes a few seconds for me to realize his shower is running. He must’ve come back early. Excited at the prospect of surprising him, I strip down to the lingerie and pull his blinds until the room is dim, but not dark. I want him to see me, and I want to see him.

  The shower stops, and I rush to stretch out on his bed, trying a couple of different poses before I settle on one that doesn’t feel ridiculous. Lying on my side, I prop my head on my hand and wait.

  A few long minutes go by before he emerges in a pair of boxers and a white tee. I’ve never seen him wear boxers before. His ass looks better in the boxer briefs, but the man could wear a grocery bag and be sexy. His hair is damp and wild. It looks a little longer when it’s wet.

  “Finally, I thought you were going to make me wait all day,” I remark, and his head jerks in my direction. He’s really caught off guard, because it takes a second for the smile to creep across his face.

  “Well, if I knew you were waiting, I would’ve rinsed faster.” His voice is a bit gravely, like he’s getting a cold. I hope not.

  “Nice boxers,” I tease.

  He strides over to the bed, with the graceful movement of a cat stalking its prey, and grins down at me. “Nice lingerie.” He drags a finger across my nipple. “Is it for me?”

  My eyes close, and I revel in even that small touch, knowing so much more is to come. “Who else?”

  Bending over the bed, he presses a hot, open mouthed kiss on my nipple through the thin lace, and I groan. His next kiss lands on my neck, and he crawls into bed with me, kissing down my neck as his hands explore my breasts. With one handed expertise, he removes the bra, and sucks a nipple between his lips, making my back arch, and I thread my fingers into his hair.

  He flexes his hips, letting me feel the hardness pressing between my legs. I wrap my legs around him and pull him harder against me, earning me a wicked smile. Sitting back, he hooks a finger under each side of my panties and slides them off, tossing them on top of my bra beside the bed.

  His gaze wanders over me, and his expression is pure hunger. “You’re so fucking hot.”

  “And you’re wearing too many clothes.” He grins at me when I sit up and run my hands under his shirt and over his chest. He’s shaved his chest hair, which is unusual, but not terrible. I grab the bottom of his tee and pull it up, and he finishes taking it off.

  Leaning over me, he runs a hand from my collarbone down to my abdomen, pausing to massage each breast on his way down. His hand continues, running over my thighs while I drag my fingers down his chest to his navel, loving the smooth skin.

  The smooth skin.

  “Your scar,” I murmur, confused.

  The jagged line that cuts across his navel is gone. Did he cover it with makeup or something? He sits, straddling my hips while I lie beneath him, and I run my fingers over that spot again. “Where’s your scar?” I ask.

  He doesn’t have a chance to answer before the door to his room opens. I reach to cover myself with the sheet but freeze once I see who stands inside the door. My eyes squeeze shut, and I shake my head, struggling to clear my mind because what I’m seeing makes no sense.

  Holt grins down at me before he’s grabbed and thrown across the room by…Holt?

  “What the fuck is happening?” I screech, jumping to my feet and wrapping the sheet around my naked body.

  “I’m so sorry.” A hand reaches out to touch me, and I recoil, my head spinning as I try to get a grip on what’s going on. “He’s my twin brother.”

  Twin. Of course. The higher voice, the missing scar, the longer hair. I was seconds away from fucking Holt’s identical twin brother.

  So many questions beat in my head that I can’t verbalize them. Why didn’t he tell me he had a twin? What’s he doing here?

  “He was going to…I thought he was you,” I whisper.

  “Seemed only fair. And you know I’m a fan of irony,” the brother remarks.

  The memory of his mouth on my nipple and his hands all over me sends a wave of nausea through me. Holt reaches for my arm, but I dodge him and race to the bathroom. Shouts and a crash in the next room barely register as I empty my churning stomach. Once I’m finished, I feel better, and my fear and disgust are quickly replaced by white hot anger.

  His twin was going to fuck me. While pretending to be Holt. Who the fuck does something like that?

  Clark pokes his head into the bathroom. “Are you okay?”

  I splash water on my face once more, still holding the sheet around me. “I think so. What’s going on out there?”

  Clark shakes his head. “Holt beat the shit out of his brother.” His eyes meet mine. “Not that I blame him. He’s asking me not to call the cops. It’s up to you, Kinley. I think you should have his ass locked up.”

  If we call the police, Holt is likely to get charged with battery. I’m not sure if his celebrity status could get him out of that
. And I’m not sure whether his brother actually broke any laws. Other than the law of common decency. I need to talk to Holt. “Where’s Holt?”

  “Waiting in the bedroom.” Clark shrugs. “I may have threatened to break him into tiny pieces if he got near you.”

  “Can you grab my clothes from the couch?” I ask, my face heating up.

  With a curt nod, he leaves the room then returns with my clothes. “Holt’s manager is on his way.” He leaves to give me some privacy.

  After I dress, I look at myself in the mirror and take a deep breath. I don’t know exactly what’s going on yet, but I still have hope it’ll be all right. We’ll deal with Holt’s psycho brother, then Holt and I can take our trip.

  Everything will be fine.

  After reassuring myself, I walk back into the sitting room. Holt’s brother slouches in an armchair, his eyes turning blacker by the second and blood drying on his lip.

  Holt jumps to his feet and rushes over to me. “Bug, I’m so sorry. He said he didn’t…that you two didn’t…”

  He’s too upset and angry to get the words out. “We didn’t fuck, but he was going to.”

  “I know. And he’ll fucking pay,” Holt says through gritted teeth.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you had a twin? I mean, you said you had a brother in rehab, but.” I glance at the brother, and he smiles at me with blood in his teeth. “You said you didn’t meet until you were sixteen.”

  How could someone not know they had a twin? Surely, no mother could be so cruel.

  “I know none of this makes sense, but I swear, I can explain.”

  “That should be interesting,” the brother chuckles. For someone who just got his ass beat, he’s awfully glib.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Holt snaps.

  A knock at the door provides a distraction, and Clark opens it. Sully rushes in surrounded by a cloud of obscenities. He turns to Holt’s brother. “You were supposed to head straight to Nashville. I sent a car for you!”

  “And let my brother have all the fun?”

  Sully is so worked up, he sputters out his words. “Do you have any idea what everyone has gone through for you? How hard it’s been to keep another stint in rehab under wraps?”

  I’m not sure why having a brother in rehab would hurt Holt’s career and I feel like I’m missing something. Maybe the same something that has the blood draining from Holt’s face.

  His brother’s smile turns cruel, and he gazes at Holt, then me. “It looks like the rock star life has been good to him. Admit it, Holt. You loved pretending to be me.”

  Confusion grips me until he adds, “Everyone wants to be Marcus Singleton.”

  My lungs shrivel, and I can’t get any air. Pieces start to fall into place.

  He couldn’t cut his hair.

  Because it had to match his twin’s.

  Alicia wasn’t really his girlfriend.

  Because she was his brother’s.

  The difference in his voice when he sang to me.

  And his name. I asked him how he got the name Holt from Marcus.

  One look at Holt is enough to confirm Marcus is telling the truth. His shoulders slump and fear widens his eyes as he opens his mouth to speak. “Kinley,” he whispers.

  Clark moves to stand beside me and holds my arm. I’m glad for his support because my legs feel weak and my whole body is shaky.

  My question sounds like it comes from a stranger, husky and broken. “What’s your name?”

  His chest rises and falls before he replies, “Holt Singleton.”

  “Holt isn’t your middle name,” I clarify, speaking more to myself.

  “No.”

  My eyes fill with tears as I meet his gaze and ask the only question that seems important now. “Why?”

  So much is encompassed in that one word. Why did you lie to me? Why did you trick me? Why did you pretend you cared about me and that we had a future?

  His answer pierces me and destroys any remaining hope.

  “I was under contract.”

  Everything rushes through my mind at once. Holt kissing me in the boat house, making love to me in the gazebo behind a curtain of rain, sitting beside the lake while we talked about our future. A future he knew wasn’t going to happen.

  Fake.

  It was fake.

  “None of it was real,” I mumble, the truth of it slamming into me. It feels like I’m made of shattered glass, the shards being plucked away one by one. He was just toying with me. He knew he could promise me the world with no intention of delivering.

  Holt steps toward me, his eyes wide and wild. “It was real, bug. How I feel about you is real. I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you.”

  Something strains inside me. I feel it like an overstretched rubber band in my chest that finally snaps.

  “Fuck you!” I shout. “I don’t even know who you are!” A sickening thought strikes me. “Have you switched off before? Did I fuck your brother thinking he was you?”

  “No,” he barks. “Never.”

  Marcus snorts out a laugh. “Why not? You fucked Holt because you thought he was me.”

  Holt swings on Marcus again, and Clark gets between them.

  I’ve had all I can take.

  All the heartache.

  All the lies.

  All the humiliation I can take.

  “I want all of you off my property now. You’re banned from Foxhaven. Get the fuck out.”

  As I spin around and stalk toward the door, Sully grabs my arm. “If you speak a word of any of this, I’ll sue you into the ground.”

  “Get your fucking hands off of her!” Holt shouts, tackling Sully.

  Clark lets him get a few shots in before pulling him off. Herb steps in the door, summoned by Clark or the commotion, I’m not sure which, and Clark nods at me. “Go, Kinley. I’ve got this.”

  As I step into the hall, Holt calls my name, followed by the words I love you, words I dreamed of hearing from him, but I won’t be affected by them.

  Love is bullshit.

  Love is a mirage. Like some perfect scene from a family movie where a laughing child runs through a field of wildflowers. It looks like paradise. Then when you try it, the pollen chokes you, bees sting you, and hidden holes catch your feet, pulling you down.

  His nickname for me makes sense. All I was to him was a bug trapped under a glass. A plaything to manipulate.

  And now I’m free.

  THE END

  Don’t miss the conclusion of Holt and Kinley’s story in Veracity, Book Two of the Jilted Series

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  Acknowledgments

  I always dread writing acknowledgements because there are so many people who help me get a book ready or support me along the way that I’m afraid I’ll leave someone out. So, let me start by saying I appreciate every person who helped Holt and Kinley’s story come to fruition. I really enjoyed writing this one.

  To my alpha and beta readers, thank you so much for all the hard work you do. Colette Trainor, Amanda Munson, Veronica Ashley, Paige Sayer, Theresa
O’Reilly, Bridget McEvoy, Chantal Baxendale, you all make me look way smarter than I am.

  Julie Anne Addicott, thank you for reading and assuring me the song lyrics are not terrible. Since you write amazing poetry, there’s no opinion I’d trust more for that. Be warned, I will be pestering you when I have to write lyrics for the next book.

  To the readers in my ARC group, and everyone else who read this book early, thank you so much. Since Duplicity is a little different than my other work, I was a tiny bit nail biting, hide in the closet nervous about the reaction it would receive. The messages and rants about the characters, plus the demands to read the next book in the series put my mind at ease, along with making me laugh. I’d say I’m sorry, but we both know I’d be lying. The next book won’t be long, I promise.

  Now, I have to talk about my favorite person and amazing PA, Melissa Teo. If you know her, then you know her reviews and posts are the most entertaining thing you’ll see in our book world. Behind the scenes, she does so much more than that, not just for me, but for other author friends, and we are all lucky to have her yelling at us. If you don’t know her, what are you even doing with your life? She runs a blog called Booksmacked, and a group where I spend far too much time, called B.A.N.G. Be warned, if you join, you’ll love her book recommendations, but your bank account will hate you for all the one clicking.

  To my reader group, Shady Ladies, thank you all so much for the daily laughs, but mostly for being such an amazing group of women who have made the group a welcoming, fun place to be. And for defending me against my best frenemy, S.K. Rose when she invaded the group with her creepy octopuses. Nemesis, this isn’t over.

  Veronica Ashley, thanks for not hesitating to toss S.K. Rose out of Shady Ladies on her troublemaking ass until she apologized. You’re on my list of favorite Canadians.