“It’s Brandi,” she glowered.

“Whatever.”

When I looked back at Rowan, his eyes danced with amusement and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Something tells me I’m going to be very happy I brought you with me tonight.”

I pursed my lips together and blew out a long puff of air, creating a less than ladylike sound. “Pfft, of course you are. I’m delightful.”

“Come on then.” He chuckled, pulling me from the barstool. “Let’s go have some fun.”

“As long as I don’t end up behind bars again, I’m down. If you’re in there with me, who’d bail me out?”

He hadn’t been lying.

Holy hell, I was bored out of my ever loving mind. Sure, we’d had fun bidding people up on some ridiculous auction prizes, but that had been the highlight of the evening. There was schmoozing. Oh, dear Lord, was there schmoozing. My face ached from the fake smile I had to keep plastered in place as people came up to Rowan, droning on and on about the most trivial bullshit.

During dinner, it had taken Rowan pinching me on my knee several times just to keep me from falling asleep. I was pretty sure I was going to have a bruise tomorrow. And I might have dug my knuckles into the meaty part of his thigh in retaliation. Or just to liven up the mood. Whatever.

I was never doing a black tie event again. Never!

“So, this is what Hell’s like?” I leaned over and whispered to Rowan just as dinner was wrapping up.

“I told you so,” he chided.

Giving him a glare, I responded, “You know, a gentleman doesn’t say I told you so.”

He looked at me with an oh, you dear, sweet, simple girl expression. “I think you know me better than that.”

“Damn it, you’re right,” I conceded. “Fine. If I’m going to be stuck in Hell, might as well take advantage of the open bar. I’ll be right back.” Without a backwards glance, I took off in the direction of my salvation. I needed alcohol like I’d never needed it before.

Making my way through the crowd that had started to form, I stepped up to the bar and rested against it, more tired than I had felt in a long time. Who knew acting fake could be so exhausting. I placed my order and waited with my back to the room.

“You look like you’re enjoying this event about as much as I am,” a familiar voice spoke from behind me.

I rolled my eyes as I began to turn. “Very funny, Row—,” I trailed off as I stared in shock at the man before me. It was Rowan, but it wasn’t. Same eyes, same build, same stature… hell, same damn face! But where Rowan’s face was marred only by the scruff on his jawline, the man in front of me had an inch-long, crescent-shaped scar on the side of his left eye.

“Holy shit,” I said on a whoosh of breath as my lungs deflated in shock.

One corner of his lips tipped up in a crooked smile so like Rowan’s, yet visibly different at the same time. “Well, hello to you, too. Can I get you a drink?”

“I—uh—you’re—holy shit!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckled. Had my brain not been fried completely, I would have informed him I already had a drink. But at that point, I was incapable of rational thought. Rowan had a doppelganger! Or, at the very least, a twin. He stepped into the free space right next to me at the bar and ordered two glasses of champagne, which was so not something I’d ever drink, unless forced due to some sort of celebration.

“For you, beautiful.” He offered a smile full of perfectly straight, white teeth as he clinked his glass against mine. “To luck,” he toasted. “Seeing you across the room made this event much more tolerable.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed at the spot between my brows, trying to ward off the headache I felt coming on. “I’m sorry. I’m so confused right now.”

My eyes widened in surprise when I felt his fingers on mine, pulling my hand away so he could see my face. However, instead of letting go, he wrapped his grip around my hand more firmly, rubbing small circles over my pulse point with his thumb. “A woman as gorgeous as you should never frown. What has you so confused, beautiful?”

I felt him before I saw him. “Get your fucking hands off her before I break every bone in your goddamned body.”

My body went rigid. The air around us grew arctic as my gaze bounced back and forth between the two men who looked so much alike. I’d seen Rowan mad, plenty of times. But the pure, unadulterated hatred that was radiating off him had my heart thundering in my chest.

“Rowan,” the man spoke, sounding almost surprised. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I’m not going to fucking tell you again,” Rowan growled in response, the muscle in his jaw ticking double-time. “Get your goddamned hands off her, Richard.”

He released my hand and held both of his up in surrender. “Row, I had no clue—” but he didn’t get any further.

Rowan let out a laugh so callous it sent chills up my spine. “Like it would matter, brother. We already know you’ve got a hard-on for my sloppy seconds.” Hold the hell up. I was about to interrupt, angered by his implication, when he cut me off. “You get tired of the last one already, Rich? Was that it? You got done with Bree and shoved her to the side for a newer model?”

“Bree?” I nearly shouted. “Like the crazy stalker email chick? That Bree?” Neither of them acknowledged that I’d even spoken.

“Rowan,” I warned. Not only were we garnering some very unwanted attention, but I really didn’t like how he was demeaning me in the process of attacking his brother. Unfortunately, he was too far gone. And who in the ever loving hell was Bree?!

Right in Richard’s face, he hissed, “You stay the fuck away from Navie, you hear me? She’s mine.” What the holy hell? “You try the same bullshit on her that you did with Bree and they’ll never find your fucking body. You understand me?”

“Rowan, please,” Richard spoke. “Can we please just talk about this? Privately? There’s a lot that needs to be said. I didn’t know—”

“There’s a reason I haven’t talked to you in years, you sorry piece of shit. If you think we’re going to start now, you’ve lost your mind.”

“Rowan, please,” I whispered urgently, tugging on his arm in an attempt to get him to back off. As his assistant, I saw getting into a brawl at a charity event ending badly from a publicity standpoint—a hit Rowan couldn’t afford to take. But as someone who actually cared for him, I simply didn’t want to see him get hurt.

“How long are you planning on holding a grudge without knowing the full story, brother?” Richard asked, and I had to stifle my groan.

“Don’t poke the bear,” I hissed quietly. “For the love of God, man, don’t poke the fucking bear.”

Rowan stepped up to his brother, way too close for comfort. “What’d you just say to me?”

“Rowan, stop!” I nearly shouted, my tone firm, leaving no room for argument. That seemed to pull him out of his red-clouded daze.

“We’re leaving,” he informed me, grabbing me by the hand Richard had been holding, which had started the whole mess. He didn’t give me a chance to respond as he pulled me, none too gracefully, from the ballroom at a clip so fast I had to run to keep up. I barely had enough time to snatch my clutch from the table as we passed.

“Rowan, slow down. My legs are shorter than yours!”

“I can’t fucking believe that motherfucker!” he bellowed once we made it outside to the waiting limo.

“Stop!” I shouted, jerking my hand from his painfully rough grip. He came to a halt as soon as his hold on me detached. Standing in front of the Plaza, my chest rising and falling with each ragged pant, I propped my hands on my hips and scowled. “What the hell was that?!”