Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
“Oh nice. Private entrance?” I ask.
Rev nods again, his expression slightly secretive, and then he knocks on the door.
“Yo,” he calls out. “I’m here.”
A look of perplexment crosses my features. He certainly knows this friend really well if Rev’s comfortable with “Yo” as a greeting.
But then the door swings open, and the sounds of a party drift out. There’s the musical clinking of champagne flutes, as well as the tinkling laughter of women and faint strains of music. But all that fades to nothingness as I stare at the man before me because he’s a replica of Rev. He’s just as tall, just as dark, and even more forbidding with a dangerous gleam in those blue eyes. His handsome chiseled features are identical to my boyfriend’s, and he’s just as physically fit with broad shoulders, a wide chest, and long, powerful legs clad in a dark trousers.
“Hey brother,” the dark man growls. “Welcome. Come in, and let’s get you settled. Who do we have here?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at me.
Rev smirks.
“Reed, meet Cat. Cat, meet Reed, my twin brother. It’s time you knew that I have a twin … and that we’re identical.”
I gasp, my cheeks growing out as I meet the eyes of Reed Randler. Holy cow, identical twins? Why didn’t Rev mention this fact before? Yet as I look into Reed Randler’s eyes, there’s something different about him. I can’t put my finger on it quite yet, but the air is thick with electricity and excitement. Somehow, I know that my life is about to take a hard left, and my heart beats with anticipation.
2
Reed
Holy shit, what has my brother landed upon? Usually, Rev dates a certain type of skank: blonde and thin as a rail, with a coked-up look in her eyes. More often than not, they’ve indulged in illegal drugs together, and they both tend to look pretty strung out when I see them.
Chalk it up to the stress in my brother’s life if you will, but I think it’s more than that. I think it’s the fact that our parents left us in charge of a multi-billion dollar enterprise when they passed. Although most people don’t know it, we’re actually the co-owners of the House of Permian. We make haute couture as well as ready to wear lines, and put out the most exquisite shoes and jackets. But our go-to is really handbags. Over the last few decades, the House of Permian has become known for its elegant handbags crafted from quilted leather with distinctive chain straps. Our bags retail for five figures, and women all over the world snap them up as the ultimate status symbol.
But it hasn’t always been roses at the House of Permian. Our company was actually founded by Lily Permian in France during the early 1920’s. Our grandfather was already a successful industrialist by then, and he invested seed funding with Lily so that the company could expand its production and marketing efforts. But during World War II, Lily sought to wrest her company away from our grandfather by claiming that we were Jewish. Jewish people were being dispossessed of their property left and right during that period, and Lily made false claims in order to rip the House of Permian out of my grandfather’s hands.
Fortunately, old Art Randler was a canny one. My grandfather could see Lily’s maneuvering from a mile away, and when she made her accusations, he was prepared. He fired right back with a family genealogy that showed that not only were we not Jewish, but that we were in fact descended from a line of French nobility which included Catholic popes. Lily was shocked to find out, and gave up her claims to the House of Permian permanently, ceding total control of the company to my grandfather.
It’s sad really, that we even had to go through that, but in the decades since World War II, my family has built the business up into a global fashion brand. Our goods are coveted, exquisite, and extraordinarily expensive. Our purses are often seen on the arms of princesses, A-list actresses, and Arabian sheikas. We have a policy not to sell to reality TV stars because we don’t want our goods tarnished by their less-than-stellar reputations.
After all, a business is a business, and image is important to the bottom line. We only want to be known as the best of the best, and many Instagram stars just aren’t ready for our brand of luxury.
But even though the House of Permian has been successful beyond our wildest dreams, my twin Rev has always been unhappy. Why or with what, I don’t know. Our parents made him the head of marketing, and yet he wasn’t satisfied. He was demanding, rude, and more than a little contemptuous of our parents’ work ethic. He’s always had a condescending air that some people label as “confidence.” I see it as a mask for his insecurity.