MY MOUTH IS DRY.
That’s the first thought I have as I open my eyes. All thoughts of being thirsty disappear when I make out my surroundings.
I’m lying in a queen-sized bed with sheets that aren’t my own. The white light in the ceiling isn’t from my room either.
I jerk to a sitting position and check under the covers. I’m still wearing my clothes from earlier. Thank God.
Slowly, I inch to the edge, and my toes get swallowed by the plush carpet.
Where is this place? Wasn’t I at the cottage not two seconds ago?
The time on the nightstand reads eight in the evening. I frown. It’s been hours. How the hell has it been hours? I was standing there, taking a trip into the past and trying to remember my life and…
I gasp, covering my mouth with my hands.
All the memories that hit me earlier consume me once more. Mom’s death. Reina’s sacrifice. The fact that I confiscated another person’s name.
This must be why I didn’t feel comfortable with the name Reina Ellis when I woke up in the hospital with wiped memories.
I lived as Rai Sokolov for twelve years. That name resonated with me better, but I had to erase it. I had to become Reina to survive.
Just like that, I took her life and threw her into mine.
Those Russians were after Mom and me. Or rather, they were after me since they had no problem hurting Mom once they found me.
Tears fill my eyes as I fall back on the bed, my limbs shaking and my heart racing louder and harder with every second.
Mom.
Reina.
Dad.
They’re all gone now, and I’m the only one who remains, the dirty little monster Rai who took an identity and a life that was never hers, who got engaged to a person who was never supposed to be hers.
Rai Sokolov.
That’s Russian, like Mom’s name and those men’s accents.
Mom used to teach me some Russian, telling me it was better to understand my enemies so I’d know what I was in for.
She considered them enemies and ran away from them. She took Reina and me and planned to leave the country. We had forged passports and forged identities and papers. But that day, they found us and everything blew up.
They killed Mom and took Reina.
I hate myself for being a fucking coward back then, for letting Reina take my place, for running away to Dad. I hate that I never looked back, never stopped.
In my twelve-year-old mind, I was so tired of running all the time, tired of never staying in one place for more than a few months, never having friends, never having enough food.
Never having a father.
I was also so fucking scared when I realized Mom no longer existed. She had been the one who took care of me, and I had no clue what the fuck to do without her.
So when Reina gave me her life, I took it.
I didn’t ask her to run with me to Dad, because I knew they’d never stop until they got Mia Sokolov’s daughter.
And they did stop. Once I started living with Dad, they never bothered me—I think. My memories are still fuzzy around that.
What I know for sure is that at the time, I thought Dad would try to find Reina and bring her back.
He must’ve realized he got the wrong twin. And in some way, maybe Dad searched for her. It can’t be a coincidence that he was involved in all that dangerous business with the mafia.
Then they took him, too.
And they came back for Reina and me when we reunited at the cottage. Although I don’t remember exactly what happened, I’m sure they did.
If they didn’t kill her after all these years, surely they need her alive, right? Surely she’s still out there.
Human remains.
A tear slides down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away.
No.
I won’t believe they took her life. They need her in some way. She managed to survive all this time and will continue to do so.
You promised, Reina.
The door clicks open and I startle, nearly toppling over the side of the bed. During my jumbled thoughts about what happened, I forgot about the unfamiliar place I’m in.
My heart picks up speed and sweat beads on my forehead. My muscles tighten like every time Mom ushered me from the bed and told me we were leaving.
No warning, no nothing.
My eyes were usually closed as we ran in the middle of the night to God knows where then slept under the walls when we had no money for hotels. At least I slept—Mom never did. She’d stay wide awake all night watching over me to ward off any homeless.
Or the men chasing us.
Those motherfuckers, she called them. They’ll never take you away from me, Rai. Not as long as I breathe.
What if they came for me now? What if they figured out the identity switch and decided to rectify their mistake nine years later?
A shadow spills into the room and I jump back, my shoulder blades hitting the wall.
The light casts a halo on him as he becomes clear. A long breath heaves out of my lips before they turn shallow again.
Asher.
No idea why it’s both relieving and suffocating to see him.
Probably because he tried to kill you, Reina.
No, not Reina. Rai. I was always Rai. Reina was temporary. Her life was never mine to confiscate.
Maybe that’s why I’ve been that cold and aloof with her personality. I didn’t want people to get close because I didn’t want to form any attachments. I was an imposter and knew that one day, the real Reina would return to her life.
I was only a watchdog, and in my attempts to remain detached, I royally fucked it up.
Asher carries a plate in his hands as he approaches me at a steady pace. His dark jeans hang low on his hips and his T-shirt tightens around the developed muscles of his chest.
I force myself to look away as a potent feeling of disgust grips me by the throat.
The reality of what I’ve done—and can’t undo—slams against my face.
I fucked my sister’s fiancé.
I lusted after him and clung to him as if I had every right to. Not only that, I also did something so unforgivable, he’s thinking about killing me now.
What the fuck have I done?
He sits on the edge of the bed, setting the tray beside him. “You haven’t eaten since this morning.”
My stomach clenches as if approving of the statement. It’s then I realize I’m still flattened against the wall, facing away as if my life depends on it.
“Where am I?” I ask without meeting his gaze.
“At your apartment.” His voice is neutral, emotionless even. “Now sit down and eat.”
I head to the entrance. Once I find my purse and phone, I’m leaving. Why the hell did he bring me to the apartment anyway? I barely get away with avoiding him in the large house where everyone else is.
“Stop and turn around.” He speaks so low, goosebumps erupt on my skin. “You don’t want me to do it for you.”
You know what? Why should I keep on running away? I did enough of that for a lifetime when I was a kid.
The world needs to stop and face me this time. People need to see me, not Rai or Reina, a Sokolov or an Ellis, but me.
Just me.
The person inside who’s barely holding on by a thread.
With a resigned sigh, I turn around and march over to where Asher sits on the bed.
My bed.
There’s something so intimate about that, and I don’t want to admit it right now.
I lower myself opposite him, with the plate between us. I place both my hands underneath my thighs so they don’t act out on any crazy ideas like reaching out to brush back that stray strand on his forehead.
“Now eat,” he orders.
God, this man and his authoritative streak. I wish I hated it.
If I did, maybe all of this would be easier. Maybe my entire body wouldn’t be on high alert with a full rush of adrenaline.
“I’m fine.” My stomach growls as soon as the words come out of my mouth.
Damn traitor.
“You were saying?” He raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t want to eat, okay?” I pause. “Why did you bring me here? How did you find me anyway?”
“I followed you.”
I followed you.
Just like that. No explanation, no attempt at apologizing.
Who am I kidding? I’m starting to think Asher isn’t apologetic about anything.
He’s his own brand of atypical, not exactly a sociopath, but something similar. At times, it feels like he does care, but at other times, he completely eradicates that part.
“And why are we here?” I murmur.
“Because.” He takes a spoonful of what seems to be mac and cheese and places it in front of my mouth. “For the last time, fucking eat.”
I glare at him, tempted to throw the entire plate at his face, but that’s no excuse to waste good food.
Besides, I am hungry.
I try to take the spoon from him, but he keeps it away.
“Open your mouth.”
“I’m not a kid, Ash. I can eat on my own.”
“You lost your choice when you were acting like a brat.” He shakes his head with a sigh. “And it’s Asher, for fuck’s sake.”
My eyes cast downward. He’s right; I don’t have the right to call him that, to give him any nicknames or to let him feed me.
He’s not mine.
He’s Reina’s.
That’s why Old Reina always kept him at arm’s length and pushed him away. I can understand her thought process more clearly now.
“Are you going to open your mouth, or should I do it for you?” His eyes darken with malice, and I gulp at the punishing promise in them.
He’ll definitely make me, and I have no doubt that I won’t like my reaction to it.
I slowly part my lips. The spoon clinks against my teeth as he gently shoves it inside. My pulse rises in my throat and I barely chew before swallowing the mac and cheese. It tastes rich and strong, but I barely focus on that.
Oh, God. This is so intimate. I shouldn’t be doing it with Asher.
I reach out for the spoon, but he keeps it out of reach and forces me to eat from his hand.
There’s something changed about his expression, something curious and new.
Or maybe my brain is interpreting it that way after all I uncovered about the past and my identity.
Asher’s eyes keep darkening every time I wrap my lips around the spoon to swallow the pasta. His jaw ticks and he feeds me slower, as if savoring the moment.
The air thickens with tension, the scene taking an entirely different direction. It’s like he’s fucking my mouth instead of feeding me. At first, it’s with his thumb, and then it’ll be with his cock.
My cheeks flame at the thought. That’s not right to imagine—at all.
And yet, my thighs clench together. The leather of my skirt becomes too harsh against my heated skin and my T-shirt turns tight over my hardening nipples.
No.
I need to pull myself out of this trance.
“Are you going to tell me why we’re here?” I ask after swallowing another spoonful of the food.
“Mac and cheese was your favorite when you were younger,” he says, as if it’s the perfect answer to my question.
“Don’t many kids love it?”
“Not you.” He raises an eyebrow. “You used to feel peevy around it until I once dared you to eat it, and then you secretly fell in love.”
For a second, I think my heart will abandon me and stop beating. Is he talking about Reina versus me? “When was that? How old was I?”
“Right before your thirteenth birthday.” The spoon clinks against the bowl as he fills it. “Why are you asking?”
“Nothing.”
So it was me, not Reina. A strange sense of relief floods me. It’s so sudden and strong, I briefly close my eyes until it goes away.
My unfamiliarity with mac and cheese makes sense. Mom was Russian and never made it. I wasn’t exposed to the typical American life until I lived with Dad.
“What were you doing in that cottage, Reina?” His tone hardens like that time in the hospital when he asked me if I was running away from him.
“Searching for the truth,” I say, my eyes cast downward.
I can’t look at him, not when he thinks I’m Reina.
You’re an imposter.
You should die.
The gloomy cloud roams around my head like a halo, trying to swallow me inside and suck out my soul.
“What truth?” He pushes another spoonful in my mouth. “And when I talk to you, look at me.”
I shake my head, stomach in knots as I swallow. “I’m full. Can I go back now?”
“Answer the question and look at me,” he deadpans.
I remain rooted in place, mute.
“Don’t fucking test me or I swear—”
“Or what?” My head snaps up, fully meeting that forest gaze that has more depth than any human should be allowed to. “You’ll attempt to kill me like on the roof, in the classroom, or in the locker room? I know it was you. I heard what you said to Arianna on her death anniversary. I know you’ll make me pay for whatever the fuck I did. So stop pretending you care for me, whether I eat or starve, whether I lock myself in my room and die, or whether I disappear into the forest and never return. Just stop fucking pretending!”
Because it’s fucking with my head more than everything else he’s done, and I’m not in a position to have my head fucked with.
I expected Asher to be surprised after my sudden outburst, but he reveals nothing. His expression remains completely blank as he drops the spoon into the bowl on the tray between us.
Then he laughs. It’s long and humorless and shoots something akin to raw fear down my spine.
This is Asher uncut.
This is Asher without an ounce of holding back.
“Pretending.” His laughter finally subsides, replaced by a closed-off expression. “Fucking pretending.”
“Well, wasn’t it?” I fold my arms over my chest, my nails digging into the skin. “You only pretended just to get closer to me and screw me over. You made me believe you were my savior when you were the villain all along.”
“Drop your arms,” he growls.
“What?”
“Don’t give me that high-and-mighty Reina act. I’m not everyone else, so don’t you dare put up your walls with me, and drop your fucking arms when you’re talking to me.”
“No.” I jut out my chin.
I need my arms around my chest. I need protection and walls. I need everything I can get when I’m dealing with Asher.
“No?” he repeats.
“No.”
He pushes the tray to the side and grabs my forearm, shoving it down in front of me. His nose nearly touches mine as he speaks, his tone low and threatening. “You can make this easy or hard, my ugly monster.”
“What does it matter when you’re going to kill me?” I wish my voice were full of contempt and anger or the stabbing betrayal. Instead, it’s almost like resignation to a cruel fate.
This is karma biting me in the ass for stealing Reina’s life and throwing her under the bus.
I had to fall for her psycho fiancé just so he’d plan to kill me.
Wait…no. I didn’t fall for Asher. I can totally get over him.
Right?
“Since when did you become such a coward?” He’s still in my face, so when he speaks, I smell sandalwood and citrus, and I feel his pulse about to join my erratic one.
His words hit me harder than they should. My ears heat and everything in me revolts against it.
I’m not a coward; I’m a fighter.
I fought all this time, didn’t I? With Mom and with Reina and then with Dad and without him. I’m still fighting. I’m still trying to chase the gloomy cloud away.
Cowards don’t do that.
Ever.
“Screw you.” I push him away and jump from the bed then storm to the balcony’s door.
The moment I slide it open, a gust of strong wind slaps me in the face. Wind is good. Wind is as angry as I feel and as lost, too, never sure where to settle or how to go about it.
There are two chairs and a table at the far end of the balcony. I hop on the chair and then onto the table near the edge just as Asher stalks out after me.
I’m facing him, one leg planted on the railing’s edge and the other on the table. We’re at least thirty stories high. If I fall, I’ll die.
Everything will fucking end.
I shake the gloomy thoughts away and face Asher.
He freezes in the doorway, shoving both hands in his pockets, and I can almost swear he fists them. “What the fuck are you doing, Reina?”
“That’s the thing, Ash. I was never Reina.”
“What?”
“My name is Rai Sokolov and I’m Reina’s twin sister. I switched places with her when we were twelve. After Mom kidnapped her, we took each other’s identity. She went with the Russian mafia that chased me and I came to live with Dad.” I don’t know why I’m telling him all this, but now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. “I’m not from your world. I’m just a runaway, a nobody who couldn’t save her own sister. So if you want to kill me for whatever the fuck I did to you, stop playing games and do it already. Or let me do it for you—I don’t care anymore.”
The whole time I’ve been talking, Asher has been slowly approaching me, gradually removing both hands from his pockets.
I should’ve focused on that and on the fact that he’s probably coming to make what I asked reality.
My limbs shake and my leg keeps approaching the edge. The strong wind hits me in the bones, my teeth chatter, and a full-body tremor takes me over.
“Come down from there, Reina.” Asher’s order is slow but firm enough to make my heart jump.
“Didn’t you hear a word I said? I told you I’m not Reina. I’m an imposter.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your name. You’re the only Reina I know.” He reaches out his hand. “Come the fuck down.”
I eye him suspiciously. “Don’t you want me dead?”
“Come down. Now.” His face becomes closed off like he’s an entirely different person, almost as if he’s camouflaging something.
Then I recognize that somber look in his eyes.
Fear.
Pure, raw fear.
He doesn’t want me to jump.
Why the hell is my heart thumping at that?
Stop it. Don’t celebrate. Don’t you dare celebrate.
“If…” I clear my throat. “If you don’t want me dead just yet, can you let me search for my sister first? I’ll do whatever you want once I find her.”
He says nothing.
“Please…” I soften my voice.
He grabs me by the wrist and pulls me down so hard I shriek, thinking I’ll topple over the edge.
Instead, I land in the midst of strong arms. Steel limbs crush me to his chest, his embrace nearly suffocating and yet so…warm.
Asher is warm when he chooses to be. It’s just that he rarely allows that part to shine through.
My cheek lies against his chest muscles and I inhale him, the sandalwood and citrus, the warmth and the safety.
The need to cry hits me out of nowhere.
But why?
Why, Asher, just why?
He places both hands on my cheeks and wrenches me away from his warmth to hold me at arm’s length. “Don’t you dare fucking do that again, understood?”
My lips tremble, but I say nothing.
“What happened to what you said? The part about how I don’t deserve for you to sacrifice yourself for me or anyone else?” He shakes me hard as if he’s jamming those words inside me. “Snap the fuck out of it.”
The need to throw myself into his embrace again becomes overwhelming like an actual presence with thoughts and feelings, but since I can’t do that, I focus on my other purpose. “Are you going to let me search for my sister?”
“For fuck’s sake.” He wrenches himself away from me and I flinch backward as he turns, facing the endless buildings and their lights.
His shoulders hunch with tension, and I don’t know how to make it better—not that I should.
“So?” I press instead.
“Fine.”
A breath heaves out of me as I try to get my chaotic feelings in check. If he leaves me be, I’ll be able to focus on finding Reina.
Then, when I give her back her life, I’ll pay whatever price Asher wants of me.
“But you’re not doing it alone,” he continues.
“What?”
He turns around, his expression less agitated than earlier. All tension has left him, replaced by a calculative streak.
“We’re in this together.”
My brows furrow. “Why would you want to help me?”
He reaches me in two seconds and wraps a hand around my neck. “Because I own you, my ugly monster.”
