The Rebound - Stefanie London Page 0,2

reminding me that the remains of my mimosas aren’t safely digested yet. There’s more knocking inside. I need to get out of here now!

I inch along the side of the building, extracting myself from the buzzing lavender bush and heading slowly toward the car park out front. I peer out around the corner but immediately have to shrink back as I spot one of my colleagues walking up the steps with her husband. That’s the shittiest thing about this situation—given this is my wedding, I know most of the guests. Thankfully, Mike’s invitations were vast and, out of our four-hundred-strong guest list, I haven’t met all of his colleagues and extended family members.

But then it dawns on me.

What if I don’t have to be me right now? One of the best things about growing up as an identical twin was all the mischief Drew and I made by switching places. I’ll pretend to be her.

A car with a loud, rumbling engine pulls into the long, winding driveway. I squint. It’s a lone guy, and he looks to be early thirties. Could be one of Mike’s friends from overseas. I glance around the corner again. Most people appear to be inside already—the wedding should have been starting by now. I squeeze my eyes shut and dig deep to find some bravery. If I don’t go now, this could be it. Then I’ll have to face Mike and his parents and my mother and...everyone.

“Don’t think about what could go wrong, think about what could go right,” I say to myself.

Sucking in a breath, I leave the safety of the bushes and sprint across the carpark, the shawl fluttering against my hip. If anyone comes outside they’ll get a good look at my practically bare backside. But I can’t care about that. I won’t care about that.

The only thing that matters is getting behind a locked door as quickly as possible.

I practically skid to a stop beside the sleek black Mercedes that’s pulled into an empty parking spot, and I yank the passenger-side door open before the guy has a chance to do anything about it. I slide into the seat, my heart pounding from the adrenaline.

“Please,” I say, my voice shaking as I gulp in a breath. “You have to help me.”

CHAPTER TWO

Sebastian

FOR A MOMENT, I wonder if the bartender at the pub slipped something extra into my whisky. But then I remember I barely touched the damn thing, too consumed with my thoughts to actually bring the glass to my lips. Therefore, I must be hallucinating.

There’s a half-naked woman in the front seat of my car—white-blond hair in wild disarray, eyes almost as colourless as glass—pleading with me. Her hand grips my arm, nails biting into the expensive wool of the suit I paid an arm and a leg for just to show my stepbrother up.

Her skin is porcelain pale and she’s wearing a lacy white bra-type thing that pushes her breasts up in a way that’s so enticing it’s like a magnet drawing my eyes. Not to mention that she’s got endless legs and this glimmering pink stuff covering her lips. I clear my throat and look away, immediately chastising myself for being that guy.

“Who are you?” For a moment, I have a strange flash of intuition that this woman is my stepbrother’s wife-to-be—but I’ve only ever seen her in pictures, so I can’t be totally sure.

“I’m... Drew. It’s my sister’s wedding.”

Ah, identical twin. I remember my father telling me that. “And why are you naked?”

“I left my bridesmaid dress at home. It’s sitting on my bed and... Dammit. I can’t believe I forgot it.”

“Presumably you wore something here this morning.”

She lets out a frustrated exhale as though my questions are a waste of her time. “There was an...incident. With a curling wand. I caught on fire.”

I’m sure it’s one of those female things that would make no sense to me even if she did explain it. I have no idea what a curling wand is or why it might burst into flames. She also doesn’t look burned, so I am thoroughly confused.

“Please drive,” she pleads. “I have to go back to my place and get the dress or my sister will kill me.”

I can totally imagine my stepbrother marrying a bridezilla. That would suit him to a tee. But this is not my fucking problem. I didn’t even want to come to this godforsaken wedding, and the only reason I’m here is because my dad told me he’d never