Wrong Brother's Kiss

Emma’s POV

The roses on our kitchen counter were already dying. Three days old, just like the anniversary Ryan forgot until I reminded him. I touched one red petal and watched it fall onto the white marble, leaving a tiny stain that looked like a drop of blood.

"Tonight will be perfect," I whispered to myself, straightening my black dress for the hundredth time. "He's been so busy with work. He needs this."

My phone buzzed. Ryan's text made me smile: "Presidential Suite, Crown Hotel, 8 PM. Wear the black dress."

He remembered. My heart did that stupid little jump it always did when Ryan showed he cared. Three years of marriage, and I still got butterflies. Maybe Sophia was wrong. Maybe I wasn't boring. Maybe Ryan didn't regret choosing me over all those prettier girls who chased him in college.

I grabbed my purse, checking myself in the mirror one more time. The black dress hugged my small frame, making me look taller than my five feet and four inches. My long black hair fell in waves past my shoulders, just how Ryan liked it. My brown eyes looked hopeful. Too hopeful, maybe.

The Crown Hotel lobby gleamed with gold and crystal, making me feel underdressed even in my best outfit. Rich people floated past me like I was invisible. Story of my life.

"Presidential Suite?" I asked the desk clerk.

She looked me up and down, her perfect eyebrows rising slightly. "Top floor. Elevator to your right."

The elevator ride felt endless. My hands shook as I fixed my lipstick in the mirrored walls. Thirty floors up, my ears popped. The hallway stretched forever, lined with doors that probably cost more per night than I made in a month.

Room 3001. The door was cracked open, soft music floating out. Strange. Ryan never liked leaving doors open. I pushed it wider, smiling, ready to surprise him.

The rose petals on the floor should have been romantic. The champagne cooling in silver should have been perfect. The two bodies twisted together on the king-sized bed should have been us.

But the woman's bleached blonde hair wasn't mine. Her long legs wrapped around my husband weren't mine. And her face, when she turned to look at me, was my stepsister's.

"Emma?" Sophia gasped, though her green eyes sparkled with victory, not surprise. "This isn't what it looks like."

Ryan sat up slowly, not even bothering to cover himself. His hair was messed up, his chest marked with her lipstick. He looked annoyed. Not guilty. Not sorry. Just annoyed that I'd interrupted.

"You're early," he said, like I was the one who'd done something wrong.

"Early?" My voice came out as a whisper. "It's our anniversary."

Sophia laughed, actually laughed, pulling the sheet around herself like a toga. "Oh honey, he knows. This is your anniversary gift. The truth."

My legs felt like water. "What truth?"

Ryan stood up, pulling on his boxers with the casual ease of someone who felt no shame. "The truth that I'm done pretending. Two years, Emma. I've been with Sophia for two years."

Two years. Two years of me cooking his dinners. Two years of me supporting his dreams. Two years of me believing we were building something.

"But you married me," I said stupidly.

"Because Daddy liked you," Sophia said, examining her perfect nails. "Your father's business connections looked good for Ryan's career. But Daddy's been dead a year now, so..."

She shrugged like she was talking about returning a dress that didn't fit.

Ryan walked closer, and I backed up until I hit the wall. "Look, Emma, you're sweet. Really. But you're not exactly wife material for someone like me. You're too quiet. Too boring. Too... small town."

Each word hit like a physical blow. "I gave up my career for you."

"Your little interior design hobby?" He laughed. "Come on. Though I should thank you for all those ideas you gave me. They really impressed my clients."

The room spun. He'd been using my designs in his presentations. Claiming my creativity as his own.

"Why now?" I managed to ask. "Why tell me now?"

Sophia stood, wrapping the sheet around herself like a goddess. "Because I'm pregnant, Emma. And Ryan's not raising our baby with you hanging around like a sad little ghost."

Pregnant. The word echoed in my head. The baby we'd been trying for. The family I'd dreamed of.

I ran.

Their laughter followed me down the hallway. The elevator took forever to come. Other guests stared at the woman in the black dress crying her mascara off, but nobody asked if I was okay. Nobody ever did.

The hotel bar was dark and full of strangers, which was perfect. I ordered wine. Then more wine. The bartender started watering them down, but I didn't care. The room got fuzzy around the edges, and that was better than feeling my heart break into a million pieces.

"Another?" the bartender asked.

I nodded, then stood. "Bathroom first."

The hallway tilted. Door after door, all looking the same. Was it left or right? My key card was in my hand, though I didn't remember taking it out. Room 301. No, 3001. No, that was upstairs. Everything was confusing.

A door was open. Just a crack, like before. But this was safety. This was away from them.

I pushed inside, the darkness welcoming me like an old friend. The bed was huge and soft when I fell onto it. Someone was already there, warm and solid and smelling like expensive cologne mixed with something woodsy.

"Finally," a deep voice mumbled. "Thought you changed your mind."

He pulled me closer, and I was too broken and drunk to resist. His lips found mine in the dark, and for a moment, just a moment, I forgot about Ryan and Sophia and my shattered life.

This stranger kissed me like I was precious. Like I was wanted. Like I was worth something.

Then his phone rang, flooding the room with light, and I saw his face.

Sharp jawline. Dark hair. Grey eyes widening in surprise. A small scar above his left eyebrow. He was gorgeous and dangerous and definitely not expecting me.

"You're not Victoria," he said.

"You're not a dream," I said back.

We stared at each other, my lipstick on his mouth, his hand still in my hair.

"Who are you?" we both asked at the same time.

And that's when I realized I was in the wrong room, kissing the wrong man, and my life was about to get a lot more complicated.