Unique

No Family To Call His Own

  Dash

  “Un-fucking-believable!” Dash hissed.

  Stunned, Dash sat there gin-buzzed, punched, ultimatum-given, and surprisingly…sad. Not angry. Not mad. But that pathetic S word that rhymed with mad. S-a-d!

  Blimey, am I turning into the touchy feely Dejon or what?

  This fight with his twin wasn’t as any before. Serious lines were drawn, nothing to be shared ever again.

  No brotherly life lived in London.

  No more women.

  His intentions weren’t to alienate his brother or tear them further apart. They’d been slipping away from one another for the last two years. Ever since Dejon had met Kiki, he’d pulled away from Dash’s life. If Dejon only knew the truth—he hadn’t been scoring at all

  He’d lied to his brother when asked how many partners he’d had in the past two years. Without Dejon, women had found him… well, as one girl had said, “Dash, you’re a barbaric pig in bed. Too rough! Don’t ever call me again.”

  Dejon had always smoothed out his rough corners. He’d talked to the girls, and he’d listened.

  Dash cared, too, in his own way. He did. He just didn’t know how to do it as sincerely as Dejon.

  Fuck.

  “Can I get you one final Pimm’s, Mr. Turay, before we land?” Taneka asked as she collected the trash from their aisle.

  “Thank you, but no. I’m good.” He forced a smile at her as she headed back to the galley.

  And that jab at him being a mama’s boy and never leaving home? Total bullshit. If Dejon only knew the real reasons why he’d worked so hard for Jilly and didn’t leave her side. But Jilly had made him swear when he’d found the pill bottle last year not to tell Dejon.

  The night he’d found the medication was the night his priorities had changed.

  “Mum, what are these?” he’d asked, feeling as if Jilly Bissé’s world had flipped over a second time.

  “Honey, where did you find those?” she’d countered, taking the bottle. Her blue eyes had been red the past few days.

  “In your bathroom….”

  “It’s an old bottle, from last time. Thanks, I’ll toss it.” His mom had sucked her cheeks in, lowered her chin, and smiled. Her famous face had won her four British Academy Television Awards. She was good, but not good enough to fool him.

  “Mum, the expatriation date is for two months from now. That’s a new prescription. Be straight with me. I’m twenty years old, an adult. Talk to me.”

  “I know you’re all grown up, but no matter how old you are, you’ll always be my little boy. You and Dejon. I haven’t wanted to tell you or your brother.”

  “Christ, Mum. When did you find out?”

  “The doctor told me a few weeks ago.”

  He’d hugged her tight, hiding his fear.

  “Dash, you be strong. I beat it before, and I’ll beat it again. Stay in good spirits for me and your twin.”

  “What did Dejon say?”

  “He doesn’t know. And you’re not going to tell him.”

  “Mum! You can’t be serious.”

  “Dejon’s career is taking off. He’s traveling, and he met a nice girl at the Cannes Film Festival that he really likes. If I tell him, he’ll quit everything and stay here in Notting Hill…and never leave.”

  “Like I’m going to do.”

  “Dash, I don’t ever want to hold you back. It’s Dejon’s time right now. You must let him have this. If not for him, then please, do it for me. Let me see my baby happy.”

  “Who’s going to take care of you?”

  “I have my friends, the support group, and your aunt only lives an hour away. She’s going to come in on the weekends when the chemo starts.”

  The seatbelt sign chimed.

  Dash looked up in time to see the lights blink and his brother walking down the aisle.

  Wet hair slicked back, Dejon’s face appeared flushed.

  Taneka came over the speakers. “Please fasten your seatbelts. We’ll be landing in Lungi International in about thirty minutes. Thank you for flying with us.”

  “Dejon, dude, I’m—”

  “Shut it, Dash. No one cares. I don’t want to hear it.”

  I’m sorry. He wanted to tell Dejon everything, but they’d already buried their sister, and more recently an estranged father. His mum was right. If he told Dejon about her, his brother would crack. Dash would do whatever it took to make sure Dejon and Kiki had bliss in New York. Even if it meant that, a year from then, he’d be alone.

  No family to call his own.

  Double The Trouble

  Five Weeks Ago

  “Bloody hell! I didn’t intend to meet Kiki under these circumstances. However, once my lips locked with hers, she sent a surge of electricity through my mind, heart, and straight to my cock. I had to have more of her. Yes, I had to take her virginity. I couldn’t stop until I found myself buried deep inside her. How was I supposed to know my brother didn’t tell her that he had a twin?”—Dash Turay, twin, natural dominant, and overall asshole

  Kiki’s Corset

  Times Square, New York

  Kiki

  Her intercom beeped. “Kiki, darling, can you come into my office? Bring your big notebook. We have a problem. A whopper to be exact.” Anytime Taddy requested the ‘big notebook,’ the media world stood still.

  Darnit. She’d been home from Stockholm a little less than a week and still hadn’t caught up on her sleep. Getting Paloma Gems ready was taking up all of her time. Her I’s dotted and T’s crossed, everything seemed in motion. What more could she do? “Miss Brill, is this in regards to the Style Gala?’ Kiki held her breath while biting her nail.

  “Nooo,” Taddy seethed through the speaker.

  “How about Paloma Gems?” Pounding her head on the desk, Kiki couldn’t take any more. The only thing lifting her spirits was Dejon had come home from Africa the previous night. He’d texted and promised he’d come by her office that day.

  “Sweet sexy Jesus in a sling! I need your petite body in here. Now.”

  “Coming.” She slipped her flats on and then stood. Taking a tape roller to the front of her slacks, she gave herself a quick defuzz. Taddy was big on appearances.

  Taddy’s wing faced west of Blake’s and was next to the conference room. From jewelry safes to wardrobe closets, Brill, Inc. remained the industry leader in lifestyle media and branding for one very good reason—their talent was sharp, young, and hungry.

  Pushing through the double doors into Taddy’s office, she noticed her boss’s heavily lined green eyes glaring at Duckie, who sat at her next to her desk in annoyance.

  Fashion samples of leather were thrown all over the place. It appeared that Taddy’d had one of her infamous temper tantrums. Sitting in the middle of her desk was Vive’s ten-year-old Lhasa Apso, Hedda Hopper. Blind, deaf, and missing her mommy, the dog’s black eyes looked sad.

  “What’s wrong with Hedda?” Kiki gave the dog a quick pat on the head and took a seat next to Duckie, who wasn’t making eye contact with her.

  Odd!

  “Hampton Horizons is keeping Vive for a few more months. Apparently they’ve put her to work on some tomato farm. Our friend Thor Edwards was watching Hedda for a while, but he’s conveniently jetted off to St. Tropez for the fall season and left Hedda with Blake and Miguel.”

  “How is Blake with the newborn?”

  “Overwhelmed. Lex is showing him the ropes. He can’t possibly take care of Hedda and the baby. Last night I took Hedda to my penthouse and well…Ruby, Carmine, Scarlett, and Cherry sorta attacked the poor old thing.” Taddy had a harem of Shih Tzus, dyed red like all things she owned. She ran her long red acrylics through the dog’s brown fur. “Duckie is going to take Hedda. Aren’t ya, Duckie?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His skin flushed a vivid shade of pink.

  “That’s part of your punishment for fucking up this Queen Dick Dupree shipment.” Taddy slammed her fists on the desk, causing Hedda to jump
over to Duckie’s lap. Holding up a leather corset, she asked, “Kiki, darling, tell me. When you look at this garment, what’s wrong with it?”

  “Ummm.” She hated these trick questions. Kiki was too busy trying to think of how she could put Taddy in a better mood. That was actually part of her job description. Item number forty-two: Keep Miss Brill Happy. “Personally I’ve never worn a corset, but it’s lovely. The black trimmings fit, and it would be flattering for any silhouette. However….”

  “Keep going, darling.” Taddy grimaced. She loved Kiki’s intelligence and had wanted to fire Duckie since day one.

  He sunk farther in his chair.

  “From here, the sample you’re holding up is a size two at best.”

  “Well, looky here, Duckie Capri. By God, it is a size two.” Taddy’s red lips widened as though she was about ready to spit. “Duckie, do you see that this, and the forty other designs that you’ve ordered these samples from China in, are all a size two?”

  His eyes filled with tears. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Kiki, darling, can you please remind your co-worker, roommate, and dog-watching best friend why these size twos won’t work on TV tomorrow night when we air live at eight in front of ten million people with a sales goal of two million?”

  Kiki faced Duckie and put her hand on his knee to comfort him. She already had a few ideas on how she could turn this problem around. “Queen Dick Dupree’s new BDSM line is for the plus-size market.”

  Taddy clapped her hands at Kiki as if she’d just sung soprano.

  “The purchase orders should’ve been for a size twelve and up, not two and under.”

  Kiki felt horrible for Duckie. This was a huge mistake.

  “I must’ve hit the two on the computer instead of the twelve key.” His face was etched in confusion as if unable to believe the excuses flying out of his own mouth.

  “Like there is such a thing as a twelve key on the computer. I swear to sweet Jesus, Duckie Capri, you are very nice to look at, and I’m sure all the boys in this town would gladly stick their face in your ass, but you are one of the laziest, ignorant, feeble-minded ninnies I have working here. If it weren’t for Blake’s insistence that we keep you, I’d set your tight juicy booty on fire and push you out the door so fast your skin would turn permanently orange, like President Trump’s.”

  “Please don’t compare me to that man.” His eyes filled tears. Duckie had volunteered his heart out for the Bernie Sanders campaign. When the party didn’t #feeltheburn during the primary, he’d become obsessed with Hillary Clinton. He was still #withher.

  “Any clue how we’re going to fix this fuckity-fucked-up corset mess?”

  Duckie went full deer-in-headlights. He didn’t know.

  But as always, Kiki sure did.

  “That’s easy, Miss Brill. We have four models confirmed to wear the corsets on TV. They’ll be rotating the fashions about every six minutes, giving five looks each. We’ll have theirs made tonight here in our office. Then we’ll drop-ship the orders from Higee Trading Company, our fulfillment center in Shanghai.”

  “Can we really do that?”

  “Sure. We do it with our Amazon orders. We’ll just tell the viewers that it’ll take up to two weeks for delivery and not the usual forty-eight hours.” She gave a wide smile, putting everyone at ease. “I can call the factory manager tonight. I know he’ll gladly help us. No worries.”

  “Brilliant, my darling. This is why I hired you.”

  “I love you,” Duckie muttered under his breath as he headed for the door. “Thank you.”

  Kiki sat staring at her boss after he left.

  “What?”

  “Don’t you think you were a little hard on him?” Two years before, Kiki would’ve never spoken to Taddy like that. But they’d become close, almost friends.

  “Darling, if I let Duckie get away with this now, can you imagine what’ll happen down the road?” Taddy shook her head. Her way of training people to work at Brill, Inc. was with tough love. You either stepped up and worked your ass off or had a nervous breakdown and were sent to a mental hospital.

  “Yes, I agree with you. Duckie is just having a tough time right now. His Master dumped him.”

  She rolled her eyes; Kiki knew Taddy couldn’t care less. “Let’s move on, shall we? Now, what did you say earlier about never having tried on a corset before? Is that true?”

  Kiki nodded. “You know in Utah we don’t wear such things.”

  “But you’re in New York fucking City now, darling. In some cultures, a corset is a passage to womanhood.”

  “Really?” She jogged her mind—Japan, France, South Africa—and couldn’t think of one place where wearing provocative lingerie had such value.

  “Take off your blouse and bra and put this on.”

  “Miss Brill.” She hesitated. “I can’t….”

  “You can and you will. I insist.” Taddy threw the fabric at her. “I want you to sit at your desk for one full hour with this beautiful garment on. You will feel more like a woman than you ever have.”

  “How so?”

  “Waist training is good for you. Especially before your big wedding day.”

  “Miss Brill….”

  “Don’t you wanna be a walking sensuous hourglass of erotic persuasion for Dejon?”

  Kiki giggled at first and then gave it some thought. She did want to be the most craveable woman for Dejon. Lately, he seemed to be distancing himself from her emotionally, and somewhat physically. He never climaxed around her. He rarely nagged anymore, asking her to give up her V-card. At first Kiki thought it was sweet, but lately, especially as they got closer to the big day, she wanted him to grab her ponytail and pull her into the cave like a Paleolithic caveman and have his way with her. But maybe that just wasn’t how Dejon operated.

  Hmmm.

  She motioned for her boss to turn around. Taddy did no such thing, which made Kiki’s eyes bug out a bit in surprise. While Taddy was dating Big Daddy, a manly man’s-man, deep down inside she had this bisexual side of her that gave major fodder to the PR gossipmongers around the water cooler at Brill, Inc.

  Off came Kiki’s blouse and then her foundation garment, often known as her Mormon underwear.

  “Can we burn those magic tighty-whities?” Taddy joked.

  “Very funny. No.” In short jerky movements, she nervously wrapped the corset around her cold flesh. “I don’t think I’ve ever worn anything like this.” Satin lined the inside while soft buttery leather adorned the outside. She turned while Taddy came up from behind and helped her tie the back.

  “Suck in.”

  “I am.” She bit her lower lip so hard she nearly tasted blood.

  “Suck in harder.”

  “Miss Brill!” She felt as if she’d split in two. Her cleavage was up way too far, like near her chin. Her senses suddenly became acute, so much so that she felt faint.

  “Stand tall.”

  “I am!” A fluttering like never before waved through her stomach.

  “Taller.” Taddy kept tying the fabric. “Are you going to stick with the whole church thing after you get married?”

  Kiki inhaled quickly, trying to decipher the question. Taddy never spoke religion or politics; that was just her way. But she was concerned that once Kiki got married, she and Dejon would move back to Utah. At least that’s what Blake had told her in passing. Which was probably where the question was coming from.

  “Not sure. I’m taking it one day at a time. Right now I just want to focus on the Style Gala.” She let out a shallow breath.

  “How do you feel in the corset?” Taddy eyed her up and down with approval.

  She stood facing the full-length mirror on the office wall. “Like I’m someone else.”

  “A dominatrix, perhaps, my darling?”

  Shaking her head, Kiki laughed.

  “You look beautiful. Let’s take a selfie and send it to Dejon.” Taddy reached for her phone.

  “Dejon can’t see me l
ike this. He’ll—”

  The intercom on the desk chimed. “Miss Brill. Dejon is here for Kiki. He’s waiting in your conference room.”

  “Speak of the devil. This is fucking perfect!” Taddy sang.

  Elation rang through every nerve in Kiki’s body, causing lightness in her chest. She’d missed Dejon terribly and hated when he was away. Now he was home, safe and sound.

  “She’ll be right there.” With a wide grin, Taddy grabbed Kiki’s garments with her left hand and somewhat grazed her bosom with her right. “I’ll hold on to these. Pop over next door and show your man what you’ve been hiding.”

  Frozen. She couldn’t. But a part of her, way down deep inside, wanted to not only show Dejon how she looked in the corset but also give him a little lap dance like in the movie Showgirls, which was Duckie’s all-time favorite B-movie. He’d made her watch it with him at least a hundred times. The scene where stripper Nomi Malone sits on patron Zack Carey’s lap, riding him like a unicorn off into ecstasy, was something she’d always imagined she’d do with Dejon…after they were married.

  Taddy went to the door and held it open for her. “Be sexy. Be fearless. Be a creature unlike any other. Go!”

  Kiki peered down the hall. With only two offices between Taddy’s and the conference room, it wouldn’t be as if she’d be walking around Times Square naked or anything.

  “Keep your shoulders back, tits out, lick your lips, strut those hips, and most of all…smile.” Taddy crossed her arms and then nodded in the direction of the conference room.

  Hoping this would get Dejon out of this funk, she did exactly what Taddy told her.

  Mistaken Identity

  Dash

  Dash paced the Brill, Inc. conference room, anxiety swelling up inside him. I shouldn’t be here. Dejon will be livid if he finds out. But he had to meet Kiki, this woman his brother was going to marry. So while his brother was busy laying out the blueprints for the Style Gala heist, Dash said he was going for a walk, to see the sights.

  Photographs of what he assumed must be the staff lined the walls. A large flat-screen, probably for presentations, was at one end with a rectangle whiteboard at the other. The room smelled of cleaning supplies, pine and lemon.