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Dad laughs, and I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips. “Well, at least this way the Rhodeses will still be family,” he says, laughing again a little louder. “I was supposed to be having dinner at the club tonight, but I’ll cancel, and I’ll call Barnaby and set up a family dinner to celebrate your engagement instead. Did you give her the Winslow diamond?”
“Not yet,” I hear myself say.
I know I’m taking this too far, but I just can’t stop. I want to see the look on Mr. and Mrs. Rhodeses’ faces when I tell them I’m engaged to the daughter they hide away. I need them to see and understand that I’ll never have any interest in Penelope. And a part of me feels like they need to see that the daughter they hide away is important enough to flatten their bullshit house of cards.
“Okay, well, I’ll go and pick up the ring from our safe deposit box this afternoon, and you can give it to her tonight then,” Dad says, his voice back to his normal businesslike tone.
“Sounds good,” I say. “See you later.”
“Bye, son.”
“Dad,” I call, planning to tell him the truth.
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Kip, Davis, and Thorn will want to be there too. They love Izzy.”
“Sure, I’ll speak to their parents.”
“Okay, bye,” I say, ending the call and sliding my cell into my pocket before I fall back against the wall with a thud. What the hell did I just do? I had so many opportunities to tell him this was all a lie, but I didn’t, and honestly, I don’t know why.
I don’t think I have any real feelings for Izabella. Except since I saw her that first time, I’ve felt this odd sense of protective intrigue, like I need to know why she is the way she is. There’s just something about her, and I don’t know if it’s that she’s managed to stay hidden in plain sight for all these years, or maybe I’m just reacting to the way my dick strains toward her like she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.
I’m pretty sure I’ve just fucked us both over, but I don’t seem to be able to care because I’m not ready to let Izabella become a ghost again. Now I just need to convince her to play along.
13
IZABELLA
The food the server delivers looks amazing, but I can’t eat with my stomach twisted into this many knots.
“It’ll all be okay, I promise,” the curly-haired boy says.
“Of course you think it’s going to be okay, because this bullshit doesn’t affect you,” I mutter, flopping back in my seat and sighing dramatically. “What’s your name?” I ask. “I’m sorry, I know Gulliver told me earlier, but I don’t remember which one you are.”
He smiles like my annoyance amuses him, and I notice the dimples that appear in his cheeks. “I’m Kip Tudor.”
“Okay, well, Kip, I’m glad you think it’s all going to be okay, but that’s because you have no idea how fucked I actually am because of your friend’s prank.”
The smile falls from his face, and he tilts his head to the side. “I’ve never met an identical twin before,” he muses, ignoring my agitation.
Pursing my lips, I arch my eyebrow at him, and he chuckles lightly.
“I don’t get how you’ve both been here this whole time, and no one has noticed there’s two of you. Has everyone just been assuming you were Penelope?” he asks, his voice sober now and missing any trace of amusement.
“If you didn’t know any different, would you assume I was her?” I ask, my words skirting a little too close to the truth but never actually admitting that we’ve encouraged the lie that I’ve been forced to perpetuate the belief that she was an only child.
“I suppose I would,” he says with a small grimace. “But then I had no idea Penelope even had a sister.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“Yep, I have two older brothers and a younger sister,” he tells me easily.
“And do all the other students here know who your siblings are?”
“I’d be surprised if they didn’t. Maybe not my oldest brother because he graduated five years ago and he lives in Paris now. But my other brother and sister, yeah, I imagine everyone here would either have met them or at least know who they are. GAA is a small school, Izabella, and we’re all part of the same social circle because our parents all do business together. So how is it we’ve never been at the same party, business dinner, cotillion, or some other event?” he asks, leaning into me slightly.
“She’s antisocial,” a deadpan voice says, and I twirl around to find Gulliver standing behind me, his imposing body blocking the rest of the room from view as he glares down imperiously at Kip.
