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MARRIED TO MY BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND, PREGNANT FOR HIS TWIN BROTHER Novel Cover

MARRIED TO MY BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND, PREGNANT FOR HIS TWIN BROTHER

Rosaline's dream marriage to Donald Mendez turns into a nightmare of forbidden desire after one passionate night with his twin brother leaves her pregnant. When Donald reveals her mother is dead and her father has been kidnapped by the city's most powerful man, Rosaline is forced to use her husband's immense wealth as a weapon. As she investigates the abduction, every dark secret she uncovers threatens to destroy her life.
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Chapter 1

THE WEDDING NIGHT

Rosaline’s POV

The sips I took from the champagne glass did nothing to ease my racing heart.

I had imagined how this day would play out ever since I was kid. I had watched people get married and wondered how my turn would feel. All my family and friends around me, visitors that came in fancy tuxedos and luxury cars, getting married to the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

But now I was living that dream. I was getting married.

Donald Mendez was my husband.

My husband.

Even thinking the words made me feel breathless in a way I couldn’t explain.

"You're staring again," Crystal leaned in and whispered, her blonde hair brushing my cheek. She had a huge, teasing grin on her face.

"Um, excuse me," I whispered back, not even looking at her. "That's my husband. I’m allowed to stare"

She laughed and clinked her glass against mine. "You're so in love it's actually disgusting."

No lies told there.

Donald was standing across the ballroom with his father, holding a glass of whiskey and looking like every woman’s forbidden fruit. Dark hair. Square jaw. Six feet of eye candy so sweet you’d have cavities just looking at him. He must have felt me watching because he looked up, his eyes finding mine through the ball room and smiled at me.

I felt the butterflies in my stomach start dancing in bliss. I looked away first because I was smiling too hard and it was embarrassing.

The reception went on for hours. My mother kept squeezing my hands, telling me how proud she was of me. My father wouldn’t admit that he cried when he was dancing with me. Toasts were made.The cake was cut. A live band played something slow and finally I had time to dance alone with Donald.

"How much longer do we have to stay?" he murmured into my ears, his breath sending electricity up my spine.

I tilted my head back to look at him. "Are you trying to rush our own wedding reception?"

His thumb traced a slow circle against my hip. "I don’t think the guests would find what I want to do to you right now decent."

My stomach dropped to the floor.

***

A phone call rang, pulling me out of my fantasies.

It was Donald's.

His brows furrowed when he looked at the phone screen and I knew he had to take it.

“Baby, I'm so sorry…”

“It's fine. I'll wait.” I said, reassuring him with a smile in case my words were not enough.

He leaned in and kissed me, leaving me standing on my tippy toes before he pulled away.

“I'll be back.”.

***

Donald came back a few minutes later and started taking me out of the reception with the impatience of a man who couldn’t wait any longer.

Guests still stopped us, offering their congratulations but Donald handled them with professional ease.

Soon, we were out.

***

The bridal suite was on the top floor of the hotel. Floor to ceiling windows. The view from this height made the city lights look like sparkling diamonds against the dark. The entire suite was filled with white roses someone had purposely picked out and there was a bottle of champagne that neither of us touched.

Donald closed the door behind us and it felt like all the noise of the world disappeared.

I turned to face him and suddenly I was nervous. Like a teenage girl standing in front of her high school crush.

He noticed. He always noticed everything.

"Hey," he said softly, crossing the room toward me. He cupped my face in both hands and tilted

it up toward his. "It's just me."

"I know," I whispered. "Makes me even more nervous."

He laughed quietly and kissed my forehead. Then my cheek. Then the corner of my mouth. He took his sweet time, obviously not aware that my knees were already liquid and the pulsing ache between my thighs made it hard to stand. He finally kissed me properly, hard and greedily.

I had waited twenty-eight years for this night. I had saved every single piece of myself for this man. And he was making it worth the wait.

He lifted me up and gently placed me on the rose littered bed, his lips finding every bit of my skin. He skillfully took my clothes off me like a magician, but I was way too lost in my pleasure to be impressed.

Then he moved again.

My hips, stomach, breasts, nowhere was safe from this man’s kisses. His kisses traced my body till he was looking at my face again.

"I love you," I told him.

His lips crashed into mine. "I love you too, Rosaline."

The rest of the night was a blur of passion and pleasure I never thought was possible. All I knew was that at some point, I couldn’t handle it anymore and I passed out.

I don't know what time it was when I woke up.

The room was dark and quiet. I reached across the bed for Donald.

My hand found nothing.

I sat up slowly. "Donald?"

No answer.

I dragged myself out of bed to look around for him. The bathroom, sitting area, everywhere was empty like he was never there.

I told myself he probably went out for some air or maybe some morning jog. So I went to the kitchen, made breakfast for both of us and waited for him to be back.

I started to panic a bit when I waited for half an hour and he wasn”t back.

My phone suddenly buzzed on the nightstand. I grabbed it so fast I nearly dropped it.

Donald's name lit up the screen.

I exhaled and answered immediately. "Where are you? I woke up and…"

"Rosaline." His voice was warm and completely unbothered. "Good morning baby. How did you sleep?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the airport," he said casually. "I've been here since last night. Emergency with the Singapore deal. I tried not to wake you."

My grip on the phone loosened..

"You've been at the airport," I repeated slowly. "Since last night."

"Since about nine. I'm so sorry, I know it's our—"

I stopped hearing his words.

Since nine.

Our reception ended at ten.

He was never in that suite.

The man I gave myself to last night was not my husband.

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