The one point of contention between Kim and him. Her attachment to her selfish, troublemaking twin was beyond his understanding. He smoothed out the ire rising through him. “She always hurts you, Kim. Isn’t it time to cut her out of your life like your father did?”
Olivia stared at him, aghast, her palms fisting at her sides. She couldn’t believe the arrogance of the man. He was encouraging her sister to cut her off—the one person who cared about her. Her throat burned with anger. Anger that she couldn’t let out. What had Kim seen in this man? She glared at him. “She’s my sister. I won’t cut off my family as ruthlessly as you have just because they’re not perfect.”
His shoulders tightened under the handmade Italian tuxedo. His jaw tensed into a tight line. The forcefield of his anger encompassed her, drowning out the sounds around them.
Olivia braced herself, ready for his outrage to burst and choke her. After all, she had faced it countless times with her father. She had always frozen when the hurricane of her father’s anger had burst. It was Kim who’d been the wall of steel that had saved her. Shame coursed through her. And here she was, mouthing off again and ruining Kim’s chance with Alexander.
But the outburst she had expected didn’t come. Instead, he smiled, his anger obviously under control. The lethal smile wrapped itself around her senses, almost successful in making her forget what had made her so mad to begin with.
“I provoked you,” he said with a crease in his brow, as if he was contemplating her.
His asinine control grated on her nerves. She would have liked to see him blow his top. Then she would have had a measure of him. Instead, he had turned the tables on her, making her feel she should apologize instead. She did it, anyway. For Kim, she reminded herself for the nth time. “I’m sorry,” she said, uncaring that she didn’t sound sorry in the least.
The click of a camera brought her head up just as Alexander’s arms enfolded her. She took a quick peek at the silver Rolex on his strong wrist. The metal shone on his brown skin, a contrast to the crystal blue of his eyes. He was an interesting study in genetics, with his Nordic father and Italian mother. If only it was her interest in genetics that had her heart drumming like a heavy metal rock band.
Only two hours had passed since Kim had left and this day already felt too long. She held herself rigid in his arms, her neck and shoulders aching at the pressure to stay still and not lean back into his corded strength.
His hands settled on the curve of her hips. Her cheek rubbed against his rougher one. Her breasts felt heavy, tight, and a throbbing in her lower belly shot its way between her legs. Arousal. Damn, the man was to be her sister’s husband. Eventually. She closed her eyes and thought of Kim—the happiness in her face at their engagement, the sparkle in her tone whenever she had spoken of Alexander. It helped dampen the rush of sensation settling over her. Even if only a little.
She tilted her head to the side, ready to beg him to let her go. Instead, their eyes locked and she found herself caught.
“Relax, Kim. Remember this is supposed to be the biggest day of your life.”
* * *
Olivia gripped the marble countertop in the exquisite bath in Kim’s suite, everything within her rebelling at the idea of walking back into the banquet hall. It was a temporary respite before the reception began and she never wanted it to end.
To hell with the reception and the guests.
The expansive bathroom, with its perfectly placed sconces and chandeliers, the cool Turkish limestone tiles, was more than welcoming. She played with the idea of hiding out right there.
But hiding here would mean drawing Alexander’s attention to her.
Her gut flipped at the thought.
She sprinkled cold water on her wrists and face, careful not to spoil her makeup. She wanted to scrub the whole lot off. But Kim always looked perfect and she wasn’t going to quicken Alexander’s race to the truth that the wrong twin—the imperfect one—had stood next to him and uttered vows. At least Kim had promised to be back by nightfall.
She stared into the gold-edged mirror, still unable to believe how different, how polished she looked. Her wild mass of golden-brown curls had been ironed into submission and set into a stylish chignon at the back of her neck. Her neck shone with an elegant diamond choker set in white gold—which she knew was a wedding gift from Alexander Perfect King—instead of her mother’s heart-shaped locket on a black string, and her feet ached from the four-inch-heeled Christian Louboutin sandals that had already caused untold damage to her back. She scrunched her nose at Kim’s makeup bag, where the tube of pink gloss was winking at her. Olivia Stanton in shiny pink lip-gloss was never going to happen. She could only go so far, even for her twin.