Lucia Jordan's Four Series Collection: Chosen, Whipped, Lick, Risk by Lucia Jordan Page B

the street below. His family owned the building and they each had a home here, though he was the only one with a tri-level penthouse. Below, people the size of ants rushed this way and that. Tiny toy taxis zipped through traffic or dropped off ants and took on new passengers. New York boasted an energy and life not found anywhere else, not even in San Francisco. Had Taryn ever been here? He wished she were there so he could take her out to dine, dance, and see the sights.
    Shaking his head, he slumped into a chair. What a laughable mess he was in, all due to a damn broken shoe. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and relived that first encounter. God, she’d been so responsive, so damn eager, and so delicious. And the time on his yacht. “Fuck.” He couldn’t think of that. He jumped up and paced.
    He had to figure out what he was going to do about Taryn. That thorn beneath his skin was now a festering wound. He’d brooded and paced his apartment in San Francisco for three days, attempting to work from home. When he’d left California late last night, he’d been furious. He’d planned to confront his brother and Karyn.
    A check of both women’s employment files confirmed that they were sisters, and the fact that their birthdates were the same explained why they resembled each other. He’d been bested by twins using one of the oldest cons in the world. They’d switched identities and he’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. He tunneled his fingers through his hair. And why wouldn’t he? He didn’t know Karyn that well.
    Except there had been little tells—her much more conservative office attire, the fact that she took her coffee black, her lack of shyness and, of course, she never talked about Stefano. He’d figured she was keeping their engagement low key and trying to impress him. How wrong he’d been.
    Since dropping her off on Sunday, his emotions had ping-ponged back and forth between anger, betrayal, and guilt. It didn’t matter that he no longer had anything to feel guilty about. It still burned his gut that he’d actively planned to take Karyn—Taryn—from his brother.
    And that meant that Taryn meant more to him than just a sexual partner. Standing, he was about to storm out of his room and go for a walk when the room phone rang. He answered it, a bit more curtly than normal. He smiled grimly when the doorman informed him that his brother had just returned, with a Miss Karyn Jones. He thanked the man.
    Minutes later, he knocked on his brother’s door. It opened and there stood Karyn.
    “Gio!” her voice ended on a squeak. “Stefano!”
    He studied her, seeing the differences—Taryn’s nose was a bit slimmer and she had a tiny mole on her temple, right side. Even their eyes were different. The shape and color was the same, but the soul of the person staring out was totally different. He’d never mix them up again.
    He moved past her, seeing his brother coming down the stairs.
    “What’s wrong, Karyn—” Stephano started. He stared down at Gio then sighed. “Oh shit.”
    “Yeah. Though I prefer, ‘Fuck.’ A bit stronger.” He folded his arms and glared from one to the other. “That was a pretty sneaky, dirty ploy, Stef.”
    His brother shrugged, and then grinned as he put his arm around Karyn. “I don’t know. I thought it was pretty ingenious.”
    “Stefano—”
    “Giovanna DeMitri, it’s your own damn fault. If you weren’t such a nosy busybody, we wouldn’t have had to resort to deceit,” Karyn said. She pulled away from Stefano, shifted slightly in front of him, and shoved her hands on her hips. “So don’t you come in here and start shouting. You are not Stefano’s father, and you have no right playing with other people’s lives.”
    Shocked at her boldness, Gio couldn’t help feeling a new thread of respect. “Well, now I’m seeing a bit of Taryn in you. Talk about playing with people’s lives, do you know how guilty I’ve been feeling?”
    Stefano