Page 11 of Her Wicked Husband (The Huxleys #2)
“Hey, Josh!” A pair of arms wrap around my neck, and a stunning brunette presses her huge, firm tits against my chest. “I missed you,” she coos, long fake lashes fluttering as she looks up at me adoringly.
A thin film of sweat covers her otherwise lanky body.
The dark mirror behind her reflects her backside.
Her ass is rather lacking. Huh. Not Josh’s type.
I tilt my head and gaze at her thoughtfully. Has my twin ever slept with her? “How did you get invited?”
“Barry said I could come. And you did too when I texted you, silly! You said you’d be in a white shirt and black jacket.” Her hand roams over both.
My eyes flick to Josh—no jacket. That asshole.
“Why did you run out like that?” the brunette says, pushing her breasts harder against my chest. “We never got to talk about the next step.”
I lean back and swallow the whiskey. “There’s a next step?”
“Well, duh . Every relationship has a logical next step.” She looks up at me expectantly, like I should know. Except I don’t. The one I thought would go somewhere ended in betrayal. The subsequent ones… Well, they fizzled, like soda left under the SoCal sun for too long.
“Like…?”
“Marriage!”
I cough up my whiskey. Holy shit. How the hell do you go from a casual fuck to marriage in “one logical step”?
“I want to marry well. To a young, handsome, rich guy. I mean, if I have to marry, I might as well marry one who’s got everything, right? Besides, you were amazing in bed. And I think you liked it when I sucked you off. You didn’t complain when—”
“Okay, okay, okay!” Too much information, but then, she seems like the type to overshare. And be very honest about her mercenary needs.
“Don’t make this hard.” She pouts. “I mean, I have a backup, but he’s not as young or handsome. I’d really prefer to marry you.”
I should tell her I’m not Josh, so she can stop before she embarrasses herself further…
but now I don’t want to. Not after she so casually told me she has a backup, like she’s proud of keeping some poor guy dangling in reserve.
I feel sorry for the man. Most backup guys don’t know they’re backups until it’s too late. Like me in college.
Besides, I don’t want to make things easier for my twin. He and I sometimes mess with each other, but this is going a bit too far. Not only that, he probably got tired of dealing with her, so he’s trying to foist her off on me. That asshole. “You know what? That sounds about perfect.”
She claps her hands. “You agree, right? ”
“Of course! Why don’t you pick out a ring, sweetheart? And send the bill to me?”
Her face falls a little. “Well…but shouldn’t you pick it? To show you care?”
Oh jeez. She wants money and love. “Of course I care, but I have a really big case right now.” I smile ruefully.
“I have to win it to make partner. Don’t you want to be Mrs. Joshua Huxley, the wife of a partner and a rising star at Huxley all he’d have to do was be himself.
His skin is slightly tanned, which must’ve taken a lot of effort.
The fucker burns, and he was paler than pizza dough from fall to spring in Massachusetts.
He’s wearing a black button-down shirt with three buttons undone and black slacks.
He tries too hard to look imposing and cool, especially since his frame is on the slender side.
Our enmity started in high school, with him initiating it. I never understood why until Josh told me that Jude hated me for beating him in everything. Apparently, until he met me, he was number one—in golf, tennis, academics and girls.
“He can’t beat you , either,” I pointed out in confusion.
Josh shrugged. “But you beat him first, not me. So he’s fixated on you . And he’s so hung up, he can even tell us apart now .”
Hardly anyone outside the family can tell us apart. “What a freak.” It wasn’t my fault Jude couldn’t measure up, and I dismissed a rivalry that only he cared about. He wouldn’t let it go, though, and it pissed him off that a girl he liked asked me to prom.
So his much-delayed revenge was sleeping with Fiona—in my bed.
The difference was that the girl in high school wasn’t dating him.
Fiona was in a committed relationship with me—or so I thought.
The commitment obviously didn’t run very deep if she could throw it away to sleep with a guy who hated my guts.
Of course, I didn’t let him go unpunished. I turned his face into hamburger meat.
“I’m going to be his bride ,” the brunette crows, tightening her hold on me, which gets a smirk from Jude.
Whatever confrontation is to come isn’t going to be pretty. I don’t want her witnessing it. “Sweetheart, go pick out your ring, okay? And call me.”
“I will. Love you.” She wags her fingers goodbye and leaves, her step springy.
Jude watches her go. “Pathetic. You always knew how to pick the worst women. Typical loser. Make sure to buy the most expensive item on the registry.”
Not worth an answer. “So you’re getting married? To what? A water moccasin?”
A corner of his mouth quirks. “Finn Oberman.”
I study him, my eyes level and steady. There’s the same smarmy smile.
The same inferiority complex. I don’t believe for a second he’s marrying her.
He treated her like trash back in college, somebody you deign to allow to warm your bed, but would never marry.
Even a piece of shit like Jude would need to have a modicum of respect to make somebody his wife.
He has too much pride to marry someone “beneath” him.
Fiona was just a tool he found to claim superiority over me, nothing more.
Besides, she left him as soon as we graduated.
Went to some dinky little town in Wisconsin and cut all ties.
Didn’t bother with reunions or alumni associations, either.
It’s like having the diploma in her hands suddenly wised her up, although it doesn’t explain why she cried like her world was ending when Jude went into a coma from a nasty car crash he had a month before graduation.
“You remember her, don’t you? I had her send you an invite,” he says, his eyes on mine, gauging my reaction.
“Never got it.” She hasn’t contacted me since I had security drag her out of the office.
Didn’t even try to convince me that the favor I owed her couldn’t be fulfilled by listening to what she wanted from me.
Maybe she doesn’t need the two million so badly after all.
Or perhaps her pride couldn’t handle any more abuse.
Regardless, I can’t decide if I’m disappointed, relieved, irritated or happy that she’s staying away.
“Disobedient little bitch.” He glares at me, as though somehow it’s my fault I didn’t get the invite. “Have you ever heard her sing?”
I deliberately keep my expression relaxed.
She hummed for me when I was suffering from nightmares involving Mom.
When Fiona cradled me like she’d protect me from the old memories of Mom’s treachery and softly crooned nameless tunes with her lips so close to my temple I could feel the heat from her mouth, I could breathe easy and sink into her warm comfort.
Guess that was also something Fiona and Jude laughed about. “She sings like shit. ”
“No. She sings like an angel. You just have to coax her a little. Or, you know, she has to care about you.” The nasty smile on his lips reaches his eyes as he scrutinizes my reaction. “I guess it was neither in your case.”
I give him a cool stare that betrays nothing, even though my insides seethe.
A triumphant glint flashes in Jude’s eyes.
He knows he’s hit a sore spot. “Jealous, aren’t you?
She’s picking me, just like she did before,” he says, then laughs as though he’s thrilled he’s scoring a point against me after all these years.
“What’s it like to know she’s mine—that she was mine even when you thought she was yours? ”
I shoot him a condescending look. “Only a fool believes a woman’s heart is worth anything, Jude. It’s fickle, vicious and useless. Still, I’m happy for you. Guess she didn’t tell you that you were her second choice.”
The smugness fades. “You’re lying.”
“Oh, no. She came to me first. Begged me. On her knees. You should’ve seen how pretty she looked.”
His face turns red; his hands clench. He’d throw a punch if he thought he could get away with it.
My smile grows genuine as I slap his shoulder, like we’re best buddies. “She only went to you because I turned her down, Jude. But taking in garbage I don’t want suits you, man. It’s like you were born for the role.”
He stares at me, disbelief and outrage rolling over his face. His reaction is laughable. Did he think I’d have nothing to say? Or that I’d let him walk all over me?
I straighten his shirt, smoothing the collar down a bit, then step back. “Have a happy wedding.”