Marrying the Wrong Twin: A Billionaire Marriage Mistake Romance (Baby Fever Book 4)

by Nicole Casey

A pang of jealousy gripped my heart as I ground my teeth together.

  “Is Rust seeing someone?” I muttered, wishing I hadn’t asked that aloud.

  I hope he is. I hope he’s banging all of LA. That will keep him from trying to talk to me.

  It wasn’t true, of course. The thought of Rustin’s face in someone else’s snatch was enough to send me into a murderous rage although I didn’t know why. I didn’t want him. I could never trust him again so why shouldn’t someone else have him?

  Yet the memory of the night we’d gotten married played through my mind every single evening while I tried to sleep. The insomnia was growing worse as my mind and heart played a terrible game of “what if.”

  What if I’d met Rust first?

  What if he’d just told me the truth?

  What if I just snuck into his bed one last time?

  But I wasn’t going to let myself fall for him, not again, not when I couldn’t trust him.

  Even if he looks at me with those wistful green eyes which tell me he’s sorry about the way things went down.

  “I’m not sure if Rust is seeing anyone,” Geneva replied easily and I snorted. Of course she did—she wouldn’t tell me anyway. “But if I had to guess, I’d say no.”

  What else was she going to say?

  “Are you sure you haven’t been dating?” Geneva pressed and I eyed her warily.

  “Why are you asking me that?” I asked suspiciously. “I already told you I wasn’t.”

  Geneva continued to stare at me so pensively, I found myself growing uncomfortable.

  “Are you ever going to forgive Rust for what he did?”

  “Geneva,” I sighed. “Rustin and I are more of a partnership than anything.”

  “Most marriages are—if they’re done right.”

  She pursed her lips and seemed to consider her next words carefully.

  “You know,” she murmured. “I was once so mad at Jude that I did something very stupid and it deprived him of a gift he could never recover.”

  “What gift would that be?” I asked, half-listening. Where had I put those wine glasses? I hoped they hadn’t been damaged in the move.

  “Time with his children.”

  I tensed slightly but I didn’t meet Geneva’s eyes as I continued to shuffle through the kitchen to look for other boxes, busying myself on purpose.

  “That’s terrible.” There was no emotion in my response but I wondered where Geneva was going with this cautionary tale.

  “I wouldn’t wish that same mistake on anyone else’s child,” Geneva continued and I froze.

  “Well we don’t need to worry about that, do we?” I asked shortly. “Thank God there are no kids involved in this mess.”

  Thank God.

  “No?”

  My head jerked up and I met Geneva’s chocolate gaze.

  “No!” I didn’t like this discussion about babies. I’d been purposely avoiding my own thoughts on the matter. I could still have the child I’d always wanted. I was sure that Rustin wouldn’t kick me out of bed if I offered but is that the kind of life I wanted for my child? To have a father who was a liar, one who had deceived his mother into marriage?

  I reminded myself that in the olden days, arranged marriages were common and that I had planned to have a baby with Adare anyway. So what was stopping me from pursuing what I’d always wanted?

  I knew exactly what it was.

  I was afraid, afraid that the minute I let Rustin back against my skin, those feelings I’d managed to suppress would resurface in a torrent. And I wouldn’t be fooled again.

  No, there would be no baby, not with Rustin. Maybe not ever.

  I’d lost my chance to raise my own baby a long time ago.

  A sudden wave of dizziness swept through me and I leaned against the counter to catch my breath.

  “You okay?” Geneva asked, concern etched in her tone.

  “Yes. I might need a little break.”

  “Sit down,” Geneva instructed me, taking on the tone I knew she probably used on her twins. “I’ll get you a drink.”

  I started to protest but my knees felt like rubber and I realized that I felt like fainting. I’d pushed myself harder than I’d realized.

  “Here.”

  My new friend pressed a coffee mug full of water into my hand. I had yet to unpack the drinking glasses. Gratefully, I nodded at her and took a long sip.

  “Maybe I should figure out something to eat,” I murmured, trying to remember the last time I’d put anything in my stomach. We’d been going at it all day without a break. It was a small wonder that I was feeling so wobbly.

  “I’ll send the guys out for something,” Geneva offered, disappearing into the living room to find her husband and mine.

  I heard her ordering them to find some food and a moment later, Rustin appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

  “Hey…are you okay?” he asked, hurrying toward where I sat on the floor.

  “Yeah. Just a little woozy from the move,” I sighed, forsaking my usual short tone. I was feeling too out of sorts to give him crisp answers.

  “Jude and I are going to get something to eat. Any requests?”

  The thought of food filled my throat with bile and I peered at him with watery eyes. Oh my God. Was I getting sick?

  I hoped not. I had a ton of work to do at the office that week, over and above all the moving stuff. I couldn’t afford a day out. Not that I wanted one either—it would only give Rust a reason to hover and try to make good with me. I had to give him credit—he was relentless. The last thing I wanted was him hanging out when I was vulnerable.

  “No,” I managed to mumble, turning my face away. “Surprise me.”

  “Ash are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice fraught with concern. “You’re ghastly pale.”

  “I think I need to lie down.”

  Black spots were dancing in front of my face and I let myself fall to the floor, relishing the cool tile against my face.

  “GEN! JUDE!” Rustin cried, scooping me in his arms. “Get the car! Something’s wrong with Asha!”

  “There’s nothing wrong,” I gasped, feeling a wave of nausea threaten to spew from my throat. “I’m okay.”

  I could hear how weak my words were even to my own ears and impulsively, I wrapped my arms around Rustin’s neck. The effect of his nearness overwhelmed me, adding to the vertigo and I was terrified I was going to throw up all over him.

  “Rust put her in her room,” Geneva instructed, striding into the room, followed by her husband.

  “No! I’m taking her to the doctor.”

  “She doesn’t need a doctor, “Geneva insisted and I nodded weakly, swallowing as fast as I could. I was about to vomit, I knew it.

  “Rust,” I mumbled. “Put me down. I’m—"

  I didn’t get the warning out as I spewed over my husband’s undershirt, drenching his bronze arms.

  I was absolutely mortified and I gaped at him in shock, blinking my leaky eyes over and over.

  “Shit!” I rasped. “I’m sorry!”

  To my surprise, nothing but worry creased Rustin’s brow. He wasn’t angry in the least.

  “Rust! Put her in the shower,” Geneva growled, yanking on his arm. “Get her cleaned up and then she needs to lie down.”

  Rustin seemed conflicted over what to do but Geneva took control and pushed him toward the guest bathroom down the hall where she turned on the shower.

  “Were you guys drinking?” Rust asked, perplexed. Slowly, my vision was clearing and the rocking of my stomach began to slow. I wasn’t feeling nearly as bad when Rust set me on the edge of the tub and started to undress me.

  I didn’t protest as he slipped me out of my soiled t-shirt and brushed my matted hair away from my face with his fingers.

  It felt good to be touched even though I wouldn’t admit it to him. I could only stare up at him dully as he slid my shorts over my thighs, the concern on his face almost tangible.

  “I’m
okay,” I tried to tell him but he wasn’t hearing it. He mistook my words as defensiveness.

  “I’m trying to help you, Ash, not molest you, sexy as you seem covered in puke.”

  I glared at him but before we could start in on each other, Geneva gently shoved him out of the bathroom.

  “I’ll take it from here,” she told him, closing the door. Oddly, I found myself missing his nearness.

  “He cares about you,” Geneva replied softly, helping me wriggle out of my bra. “You should cut him some slack.”

  I shook my head.

  “I wasn’t giving him a hard time,” I insisted. “He just took it that way.”

  Geneva eyed me.

  “How are you doing?” she asked without commenting again on Rustin.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I muttered. “I’m fine. I’ll just get cleaned up and I’ll be back out. I’ve got this.”

  “No,” Geneva said, perching on the edge of the closed toilet seat as I undressed. She didn’t bother to look away as I dropped my panties and I grew vaguely uncomfortable by the way she was looking at me.

  Her dark eyes raked over my body like she was doing an examination.

  The look she gave me was not amorous in the least but there was something in her face that made my stomach twist again.

  “You can wait outside,” I told her, not wanting to sound ungrateful as I closed the glass doors to let the steam cloud the panes.

  “I could,” she agreed, sighing. “But then I wouldn’t be able to speak to you privately.”

  “About what?” I groaned. “I really don’t want to talk about Rustin, Geneva.”

  “Fine,” she agreed. “Can we talk about Rustin’s baby then?”

  I froze in shock.

  “Rustin’s what?” I whispered, hurt welling in my heart. “He has a baby?”

  For all the mean cracks I’d made about him having mistresses, I truly hadn’t wanted to believe he was having an affair.

  Now he’s got a baby with someone. Someone who isn’t me.

  The glass door flew open and Geneva peered at me in disbelief.

  “You mean you don’t know?” she demanded and I shook my head, gulping at the lump in my throat. I was glad the water was pouring over my face so that she wouldn’t see the tears if they escaped my eyes.

  “With who?” I asked, wishing I didn’t care so much.

  How dare he disrespect me again! He swore he was done humiliating me!

  “Oh Asha, honey,” Geneva sighed with pity in her eyes. “With you. You’re pregnant, dumpling’. The only question is, what are you going to do about it?”

  9

  Rustin

  I had hoped that the move into our own house would mend the rift between Asha and me but if anything, we seemed to grow further apart.

  Before moving into the ranch-style house in the suburbs, I had at least managed to have conversations with my wife, even if they were sporadic. For two months as we searched for a house, or rather, as she did, we stayed on the estate, avoiding my father and brother to the best of our ability. Asha had seen me as a begrudging ally, an enemy of her enemy. Inevitably, we’d find each other hiding out in the library and even then, I knew she was fighting with herself, wanting to forgive me but resisting.

  I’d been so sure that when we were in our own space, I’d finally break down her walls and make her see that there was a reason things had happened as they did.

  But after we moved, Asha went out of her way to avoid me.

  She was spending way more time at the office than she had before and when she was home, she hid in her room, often taking meals in there too.

  She hired staff and suddenly, I was living in a house full of strangers, my wife included.

  I’m pushing for this too hard, I told myself glumly one night as I sat in my office, looking over some of the merger paperwork. It was getting harder to concentrate those days as I realized that Asha was slipping further and further out of my grasp. We were cohabitating but our marriage was reminiscent of some Regency novel—without the happily ever after.

  Perhaps the Asha I had fallen so hard for never really existed. Maybe I was smitten with the idea of her and not the woman herself. Could it be that I just pursued her to show up my brother and father?

  But I knew that wasn’t true. I’d been drawn to her from the moment I’d laid eyes upon her, before I’d had any idea who she was. The chemistry we’d shared wasn’t faked and every fleeting time I caught a glimpse of her, I knew that I still wanted Asha as badly as I did the night we’d started this entire crazy ordeal.

  The question was, how could I get her to come around?

  Jude had some thoughts of his own.

  “You need to just stay on her,” my buddy told me confidently. “Make her see that you’re not going anywhere.”

  “It’s not that simple,” I groaned. “She feels betrayed.”

  “Women and their damned long memories,” Jude grunted. “They can hold grudges forever.”

  While I appreciated the solidarity, I also knew I had no one but myself to blame for what had happened. How would I have felt if the roles were reversed?

  The stationary phone on my desk rang and I snatched it up, rubbing my eyes.

  “Rustin Sphinx.”

  “Rust, I need you to come to the office,” my father rasped. His tone made the hairs on my neck stand on end.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, my stomach flipping nervously. “Did something happen?”

  “Hurry up.”

  “Right now?” I demanded, looking at the Omega on my wrist. It was just after ten o’clock.

  “It’s important, obviously,” Morris snapped. He disconnected the call before I could ask any more questions, leaving me pondering what the hell was wrong now.

  Sighing, I rose to grab my keys and sauntered out of the office toward the front of the house. Movement in the kitchen caught my attention and I poked my head inside, pausing to marvel at the vaguely amusing scene before me.

  My wife was sitting at the kitchen table, a charcuterie board in front of her, filled with various cheeses, deli meats and olives. I counted a pint of humus, spinach dip and tzatziki next to a French stick and Asha was going to town, devouring everything in sight.

  I marveled that she managed to keep her svelte figure but even as I thought it, I noticed a roundness in her cheeks that I hadn’t seen before.

  It suits her. She’s radiant.

  “Long day at the office?” I asked lightly. She paused, her face flushed with humiliation as I caught her in midchew. Quickly, she swallowed what was in her mouth and shrugged.

  “Aren’t they all?” she mumbled, turning her eyes back toward the table but she made no move to continue eating.

  “I could have taken you out for dinner if I’d known you were home,” I told her gently, ambling toward her. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. That flu knocked you out, huh?”

  She eyed me through her peripheral vision.

  “We could do that,” she replied and the answer shocked me.

  “Yeah?” I choked and she shrugged before nodding.

  “I’m starving.”

  “I-I’ve got to go out for a bit,” I told her quickly. “But we can go to that all-night Lebanese place on Melbourne if you want when I get back.”

  “You going out?” she asked dully and I sighed, remembering what I had to do.

  “Yeah. Morris called for me to come in. Sounds like he’s having a slight panic attack.”

  I grinned at her and she offered me a half-smile.

  “Why don’t you come with?” I said on a whim. I had no doubt that my father would not be impressed if I brought her along but that somehow only sweetened the idea.

  “I don’t think so. In fact, I think I’ll just turn in for the night.”

  My heart began to pound as I stared at her.

  “You know, Asha, we don’t need to live like this,” I told her softly. “We could be happy together.”

  “
No,” she said, a touch of misery in her voice. “I don’t think we could. Not when I can’t trust you, Rustin. Our entire marriage is a lie.”

  Her shoulders were almost at her ears and a spark of anger shot through me. Was she going to make me pay for the rest of my life? I wasn’t sure I could live like this.

  “I’m sure you’ve done everything right in your life, Asha,” I retorted. “I’m sure that you have never done anything on a whim. I’ve never lied to you, not once.”

  She raised her head defiantly and scowled.

  “You lied by omission.”

  “Jesus, Asha, come on. If we’re going to do this, let’s do this wholeheartedly or not at all. What about your regrets? They don’t come back and bite you in the ass, do they?”

  “I have no regrets,” she growled back.

  “No? That’s not what it sounded like when your mother was talking about your past. It sounds like you’ve made mistakes too.”

  Her face crumbled, turning almost translucent.

  “How dare you?” she hissed. “You don’t know anything about me or my past! You can’t compare my history with yours!”

  “You don’t know anything about mine either!” I exploded in exasperation. “You make up shit in your own head, based on assumptions and run with them without giving me a chance to explain!”

  “You’ve had chances! All the chances. You did what you did because you’re selfish and in constant competition with your brother. You don’t care about anyone but yourself!”

  “I care about you, Asha!”

  Our eyes locked and she shook her head.

  “No, you don’t,” she muttered but I thought I heard a waver in her voice. “You don’t.”

  “Fine!” I snapped. “Believe what you want. I have to go.”

  I spun to leave but Asha couldn’t resist a parting shot as always.

  “Say hi to your whores.”

  I whipped my head back around and scoffed.

  “You see? This is what I mean! What whores? When have I ever given you reason to believe that there’s anyone but you? You tell me to do whatever I want but you’re jealous at the thought of it.”

  “I’m not jealous. I couldn’t give a shit what you do!” Her voice had raised an octave and I knew she was lying. She cared. She had always cared.