Marrying the Wrong Twin: A Billionaire Marriage Mistake Romance Read online

  Marrying the Wrong Twin

  A Billionaire Marriage Mistake Romance

  Nicole Casey

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Rustin

  2. Asha

  3. Rustin

  4. Asha

  5. Rustin

  6. Asha

  7. Rustin

  8. Asha

  9. Rustin

  10. Asha

  11. Asha

  12. Rustin

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Read an Excerpt from Leaving to Stay - A Rockstar’s Baby Romance

  Prologue

  1. Jude

  2. Geneva

  3. Jude

  4. Geneva

  Also By Nicole Casey

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Nicole Casey. All Rights Reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronically, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the proper written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

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  Prologue

  ASHA

  Sometimes, when my mother looked at me, I forgot that I was a woman. Under her withering steel eyes, I was reverted back to a toddler of four whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar.

  She liked it that way, though, I could tell. It gave her the feeling of absolute power over me. Daddy was easier to deal with and I was regretting my decision to tell her my plight instead of him. Although in this particular case, I couldn’t be sure that I’d be any better off.

  He’s going to learn about it sooner or later, I reasoned.

  “I knew this was going to happen,” Mom hissed, her gaze locked on me. “I warned your father a year ago that this was the road you were heading down.”

  “Mom,” I muttered. “I—"

  “I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth, Asha. You sprout nothing but lies. We tried to raise you right but I knew it. You’re spoiled, impulsive and have no regard for anyone else but yourself.”

  Leave it to Mom to make this about her.

  Her grey eyes were identical to mine and yet when I met her pointed stare, I saw nothing of myself in her face. She was harder than me, the lines around her eyes proof of the endless stresses she seemed to take upon herself.

  “I’ll figure it out,” I mumbled. I heard how hollow the words sounded as they left my lips but I didn’t know what else to say.

  “You’ll figure it out?” The scorn in her voice was tangible and struck me like a physical blow. “YOU’LL FIGURE IT OUT?!”

  “Collette, what are you screaming about in here?”

  Enter Dad.

  So much for keeping it under wraps until I could come up with a solution.

  Mom didn’t pull her eyes from my face even though I darted my sooty eyes desperately toward my father. As if he could really help me.

  I let my black hair fall over my face, realizing, perhaps for the first time that I was not getting out of this unscathed. Until that moment, I had clung to some childish optimism that maybe I’d wake up from under my mother’s nearly violent gaze and be in my canopied bed upstairs, shielded by the sheer curtains.

  Maybe, in my sixteen-year-old, underdeveloped brain, I wasn’t really there but at a sleepover with the other cheerleaders, having a bad dream. Any second now, Stephanie or Amber would wake me up with annoyance and tell me to shut up.

  But there would be no more cheerleading for me. Not for a long while, not while my father peered at my mother, mild exasperation on his face as he waited for one of us to speak and tell him what the fuss was about.

  “Well?” he demanded. “What happened, Collette? Asha?”

  I couldn’t meet his eyes, a wave of shame enveloping me in a torrent. How could I have let this happen?

  “Are you going to tell him or do I have to clean up this mess too?” Mom hissed. I pursed my lips together, unable to formulate any words and Mom grunted.

  “Our daughter has gotten herself pregnant, James.”

  Dad physically reeled back, his bronze face paling to a near-opaque as he gaped at me.

  “What?” he gasped. “Asha, tell me this isn’t true!”

  But what could I say? I wasn’t just pregnant—I was just over five months along. I’d ignored it as long as I could but I was starting to show, my baby fat no longer hiding the bulge in my belly. It was a wonder that no one had noticed before, except for some of the bitchier girls at school who had mocked my weight gain but had otherwise been clueless.

  Why would anyone think that I, Asha Marie Preston, would be knocked up after all? I was an honor student, co-captain of the squad and treasurer of the student council. Not that any of that mattered to my parents. To them, I was Asha Marie Preston, only child and heir to the conglomerate empire my father had been building since he was my age.

  When he was sixteen, he was taking the inheritance he got from his father and creating an empire. And I’m about to be a high-school drop out with a kid.

  “Asha, say something!” My dad pleaded, his eyes wide with horror. “Is this true?”

  “Of course it’s true, James. The question is, what are we going to do with her?”

  “Do with me?” I choked, not liking the ominous sound of her tone. “What do you mean?”

  Mom scoffed and folded her arms under the tailored blouse, her face contorted in disdain.

  “What did you think was going to happen, Asha? Did you think you were going to carry on as usual until a baby popped out?”

  “Collette,” my dad said warningly but Mom was incensed, growing more so with each passing second.

  “Who is the father?” Dad asked, regaining a slight bit of color in his face and I could see the wheels in his head turning.

  He’s thinking about how this can be spun to the company’s benefit, I realized with horror but I couldn’t say why I was shocked. I expected nothing less from my family.

  “Don’t get excited, James. It’s some son of a Russian immigrant. He’s only a scholarship student at Villanova.”

  I bristled.

  “Dmitri Karov is a good guy!” I protested even though it wasn’t true. He hadn’t returned a single text since I’d told him about the baby and he’d gone out of his way to avoid me but I couldn’t give my parents the benefit of knowing that I’d not only gotten myself knocked up, I’d done it by the wrong guy.

  “Jesus Christ, Asha!” My dad boomed. “What were you thinking?”

  The reality seemed to have struck him as fully as it had me and just as suddenly.

  “She obviously wasn’t,” Mom commented with bitter dryness. “But what’s done is done, isn’t it?”

  I exhaled cautiously. Yes, of course they were mad. That was to be expected but they were my parents and they would come through for me. That’s what parents did.

  They exchanged a long look and seemed to be communicating without speaking, something they did a lot.

  After a painfully long silence, Dad nodded.

  “Pinehaven,” he said and Mom sighed.

  “There’s no choice,” she agreed as I co
ntinued to look at them in confusion.

  “What’s Pinehaven?” I demanded when nothing else came by the way of an explanation. Instinctively, my hands went to my belly protectively as I waited for an answer.

  “It’s a school where you’ll finish out your junior year,” Dad told me but he didn’t meet my eyes. A pang of worry touched my gut and I felt my palms go damp.

  “I-I have to leave Villanova?” I squeaked.

  “Until the baby is born,” Mom said crisply. “We’ll tell everyone you went abroad for the winter. You can start again in September.”

  I didn’t know what to say but I was far too naïve to understand what was going on yet.

  “W-why can’t I just stay then?” I managed to ask. “What difference does it make?”

  My parents looked at each other again, an identical line firming their mouths and for a second, I didn’t think they were going to answer me.

  “Mom?” I insisted. “Why do I have to go to another school?”

  “Because no one can know you’re pregnant, Ash.” It was my dad who answered. “Have you told anyone else about this?”

  My mouth parted but no words came out.

  Uh, they’re going to know when I come back with a baby, I thought but then it hit me; I wasn’t coming back with a baby.

  “Asha, did you tell any of your friends?” Mom snapped and I shook my head miserably, tears filling my eyes. Of course I hadn’t breathed a word of it to anyone. Villanova Prep was filled with pretentious types not unlike my parents. They were the same upper-class snobs I’d been with since preschool and I knew they would take this piece of gossip and run.

  And that was exactly what my family was afraid of.

  “Are you sure? Does the father know?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded.

  “I told him,” I muttered. “But he’s not taking my calls.”

  “Of course he isn’t,” Mom quipped sarcastically. “He doesn’t have any money to support a child.”

  “That’s good,” Dad said quickly and I was aghast.

  Good? How could any of this be good?

  “He’ll be silenced with money,” Mom conceded and I was beginning to feel sick to my stomach.

  “No!” I finally managed to choke out. “No! I don’t want to give up this baby!”

  “You’re too far along for any other recourse,” Mom reminded me as if termination was what was on my mind.

  “I’m keeping the baby!” I insisted and my parents looked at me blankly.

  “What?”

  It had never occurred to them that I would want to have the baby!

  “Oh dear,” Mom muttered, falling onto a winged chair near the desk as if she was having a fainting spell. She was being melodramatic of course.

  “James, will you please speak sense to this girl before I lose my mind?”

  I glared at her, folding my own arms in an act of defiance, my eyes blazing.

  “Ash stop looking at your mother and talk to me,” Dad said in a reasonable tone. I forced myself to look at him, my chin quivering. I willed myself not to cry.

  “Honey, I know that it’s hard to imagine right now but this is the best thing for you.”

  “You mean it’s the best thing for you!” I countered, scowling.

  “We’re a family,” Dad retorted, a hardness lacing his words. “More than that, we’re a brand. Whatever any of us do reflects the company. Think of the optics when my teenage daughter falls pregnant?”

  “Optics?” I choked. “What the hell are you talking about, Dad?”

  “Watch your mouth, Asha!” Mom snarled. “You have no right to speak to your father like that, not when this is all your fault!”

  I clamped my mouth closed and eyed him, waiting for a response.

  “You’re too young to understand the political dynamics of all this,” Dad told me, a creep of condescension touching his words. “But it shows that if I can’t control my own family, I’m hardly capable of controlling a multi-billion-dollar empire.”

  Again, I was stunned by his business-like approach to this but I had no reason to be. I should have foreseen this outcome. How could I have not?

  I felt like the toddler my mother wanted me to feel. I was ashamed. I was angry.

  “Before you start an argument, Ash, think about the life you’ll be giving your baby. You haven’t even graduated high school. You’ve never worked a job. How are you going to support him?”

  My blood ran cold as I gaped at my father.

  “W-what?” I mumbled. “I-you…”

  I trailed off but the look on my father’s face was unmistakable. If I chose to keep this baby, there would be no support, financial or otherwise from my parents. I didn’t even need to look at my mom for confirmation. I knew what her take would be.

  “Pinehaven is a good school. You’ll stay up with your work and you won’t miss a beat,” Dad continued, looking away. “Everything will be fine.”

  I couldn’t stop the tears from slipping down my cheeks now as I stared at him pleadingly but I could see the matter was closed to him.

  Stop crying. That won’t do anything but show your weakness.

  But it was easier thought than done and I hastily wiped the tears from my face.

  “This is your grandchild!” I whispered in a half-hearted attempt to sway him even though I knew it was futile.

  “You’ll have others,” Mom interjected almost cheerfully. “Properly and with a father who can actually provide.”

  Mom shuddered and I was once more entrenched in a wave of nausea.

  I couldn’t do this alone and even if I could, Dad was right—I had to think of the effect it would have on the company, the family. My single careless action could cost the company millions if the scandal ever got out.

  And what kind of life would that mean for you? I asked my unborn child quietly. You’ll be a spectacle before you’re even in the world.

  The shame was making it difficult for me to breathe. I was torn between wanting to flee the sprawling estate in which I’d been raised and succumbing to my parents’ wishes.

  I had never known anything but ten course meals and debutante balls. I had never known struggle or pain in any real way.

  Perhaps that was why I had been so drawn to Dmitri in the first place, not because of who he was but what he represented—everything I wasn’t.

  “Asha, I really don’t know what you’re contemplating,” Mom grunted, rising from her spot. “Do you want your child to grow up in a trailer park somewhere or do you want to ensure a future for it?”

  There. She’d said it aloud, confirming my fears. There would be no help, no handouts, probably no mention of me again if I chose to raise my baby alone.

  I closed my eyes, wishing that when I opened them again, I’d be alone but I couldn’t be that lucky.

  “Honey, you need to say something,” Dad coached me and I could hear the edge in his voice. “We need to make plans.”

  My lids parted and I looked at him.

  “Promise me that he’ll go to a good family,” I managed to rasp and an expression of relief crossed over his face.

  “Of course we will,” he laughed. “The idea is that the child has a better life without you.”

  I doubt that he meant the statement to stab me as deeply as it did but I almost doubled over in pain.

  He’s right. I can’t provide for a baby and I can’t expect my parents to help me when it puts the company at risk. I have no choice.

  I lowered my gaze and inhaled. I knew what I had to do, what was best for everyone.

  “When do I leave?” I breathed.

  1

  Rustin

  When we were small, Adare used to think it was fun to play tricks on our parents by pretending we were the other. It’s a common ruse that identical twins use and Adare was always the quintessential child. In fact, it was that very trait that bothered the hell out of me from the day we were born. He was just so damned predictable.


  I knew his every move even before he did it so while Adare thought we were playing a joke on our mother and father, I was busy screwing with him in other ways.

  It took him years to realize I was the one moving his shit around when he thought it was a ghost. It took him until we were in high school to realize I was intercepting his calls and ruining his social relationships whenever I could. And yet he always forgave me, like some idiot glutton for punishment.

  His need for approval far outweighed whatever common sense he might have been born with and it annoyed me to no end.

  There was plenty about my brother that irritated me but I was the one who took years to understand what it was that bothered me the most. My twin had stolen my identity from me from the second he’d popped his head into the world, three and a half minutes after me. I hadn’t even had time to enjoy my own time on my mother’s chest before Adare appeared. From that minute forward, I was forced to share everything with my guileless little sibling.

  It wasn’t a jealousy issue. It was one of disrespect.

  I was the older brother. By the rules of primogeniture, everything was rightfully mine.

  Unfortunately for me, my father didn’t see it that way. In fact, the great Morris Sphinx seemed to take great pleasure in pitting us against one another, even if Adare couldn’t see it.

  Take that day, for example. My father had called a private meeting with Adare, leaving me out in the cold. Dear old Dad liked to do shit like this once in a while, mostly to get my blood boiling. Nine times out of ten, there was nothing of any importance being discussed in regard to the company but sometimes, Morris would swear Adare to secrecy and send him to do some bidding that I wouldn’t find out about for months.