PEYTON

I jolt awake, feeling something wet splash on my face, my body-everywhere. My eyes fly open, but everything is blurry, the ceiling swirling above me.

And then I see a face-scrunch up like a thundercloud about to burst.

"Odin, what the hell?" I snap, trying to push myself up, but my limbs feel like lead.

"What the hell, huh? What hell? Is that-is that-"

"Just stop stammering, you fool!" I cut him off, clutching my head. It throbs, a dull, insistent ache behind my eyes.

"I thought I made myself clear: be home before midnight! But no, you came back looking like a messy, wet rag that someone dragged out of a gutter!"

Odin is talking, and believe me, I don't know who the hell he's talking to. He is hovering over me with a jug in his hand, still in his boxers, chest bare.

While me-I think I'm lying on the couch.

Wait a second, I'm home? How?

I sit up, scanning the whole place. "Odin, what am I doing here? Did you..."

I pause and look down at my body. I'm still in my fur coat, my dress somewhere around my waist, my thigh exposed to the naked eye.

Like, seriously, how did I get home? Why do I feel like there's a big hole in my memory?

That means...

My eyes snap wide open again. The club. The stranger.

"Shit!" I spring up from the couch, fisting my hair like it will somehow bring back the memory that seems to have vanished.

"PEYTON! Are you even listening to me?" Odin yells, snapping me back to reality.

I frown. "You were talking?"

Odin runs his hand through his hair and just stands silent for like ten seconds, trying to hold his temper like I'm a fifteen-year-old who just lit the curtains on fire with a stolen cigarette.

"What were you saying, Odin?" I say, breaking the awkward silence.

He sighs, but clearly, he's still furious. "Let's walk through it, shall we? You were supposed to be home by midnight, right? Twelve AM hits, and guess what? No wife. Now, I don't usually give a damn where you are, but you never stay out past dark, do you, sweetheart? So, I'm thinking, 'Oh no, my perfect little trophy wife must have gotten lost.' The nerve, right?"

He throws his hands up in mock exasperation, then lets them drop with a loud slap against his thighs. He's so dramatic.

"So, like a complete idiot, I storm out of the house, driving around in circles like a headless chicken, looking for your royal highness. After what felt like an eternity, I figure, 'Screw it, I'll grab a drink.' So I pull up to some random club, and who do I see? My oh-so-innocent wife, sprawled out in her car, door practically wide open, sound asleep! Looking like a discarded doll." He jabs a finger in my direction. "That's how you got home, Peyton."

I blink. That was intense, but it helps... My memories are starting to come back.

The last thing I clearly remember is the bad boy stranger grabbing me, that startling sensation... and then...

"Oh sweet mother of Jesus! What did I do?" I shout and start pacing. Bit by bit, it appears in my head.

And the worst part, the shock I received... after...

"Are you done now?" Odin interrupts, raising a brow. "Now clean this mess up. I'm going to work, and when I'm back, we'll have a serious talk."

I don't reply as my brain starts walking me through the night's events from the beginning.

The stranger had whispered in my ear, offering me a drink. His words, I quote: "Want to drink with me, love?"

And I don't know why I didn't refuse. Ah yes. He snatched my purse again, using that as leverage, and I had no choice but to drink.

We talked, he annoyed me, and I laughed-okay, yeah, I started laughing when I got tipsy. When I was completely drunk, he offered to take me to my car, and then it happened. I kissed him. God, I kissed the asshole. And he seemed to enjoy it; his hands roamed my body, and before I knew it, we were in his car.

I unbuttoned his dress. He took off my pants.

He sucked on my nipples, and then I got so nosy, too nosy-my fingers hooked on his mask...

Jesus Christ. I slept with my brother-in-law.

I remember I was so shocked that I jumped off him and hit my head on the back of the driver's seat.

I remember the smirk on his face like he knew me all along, and he laughed the moment I started scrambling out of the car. He didn't stop me, and I ran out and started searching for my car in the parking lot.

I threw up a couple of times, and I think I found my car, and that's when everything blanks.

"You're still here," Odin's voice cuts in, bringing me back to the present. He's all dressed up in a simple shirt and trousers-too casual for an office. His brow furrows. "Go take a shower; you reek of alcohol."

I slumped on the couch, ignoring him. His brother's face is stamped in my mind. I'm trying to fool myself into believing he only touched me for foreplay and all. But I know deep down-I feel it inside me-he did put his dick inside me.

God, I want to disappear.

"Peyton!" Odin snaps.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Just get out of here!" I shoot back, my heart slamming against my chest. "Go away; there's the door."

I gesture to the exit, the other hand clutching my forehead as it throbs like a jackhammer inside my skull.

Odin looks at me suspiciously, like he's trying to figure me out, but he doesn't speak. He just flashes a glare as he walks out the door.

"Go take a shower," he repeats, and I roll my eyes.

Seriously? Me taking a shower-is that what's bothering him right now? I have bigger problems. Last night wasn't supposed to go that way. I was supposed to take my purse from the bastard and go home straight, forfeiting the stupid notion of wanting to sin.

But no, the asshole didn't let me. He manipulated me, even knowing I'm his brother's wife.

Why did he do that? We only met once at my and Odin's wedding. So why would he...

I rub my temples, trying to find some semblance of control. I think I'm losing it. Maybe I'm overreacting.

I need a coffee.

I shoot up from the couch, but then it hits me.

My panties. I feel... empty... and bare.

I look under my thigh only to see my pussy staring back at me, stark naked beneath the rumpled dress.

"Oh great, he got a souvenir."

~~PEYTON~~

I remember him snatching it from my thigh like it was a trophy. And a drunken me didn't even bother. I was too engrossed in the sensations-the way his fingers traced my thigh-to care.

"I can't believe I'm thinking about that right now," I mutter. My body feels like a sack of cement; each limb takes a monumental effort to lift. The thought of coffee is the only thing propelling me forward.

I fumble for the coffee maker, my hands shaking as I load the grounds. The smell of fresh coffee brewing is a beacon of hope in the foggy mess that is my brain. While it drips, I stare at my reflection in the polished surface of the microwave. My hair is a tangled mess, my eyes are bloodshot, and there is a faint smear of something dark on my cheek. I look like a refugee from a bad zombie movie. The thought of Odin seeing me like this, even for a split second, makes my stomach churn. I feel I'm no better than him, and it disgusts me.

Finally, the coffee is ready. I pour a mug, and just as I'm about to take a sip, the doorbell rings. I freeze. Odin? He'd better not push my buttons. I saunter to the door, fling it open, and my jaw drops at the sight of a six-foot-five-tall man standing in the doorway, filling it completely.

Those amber eyes are familiar. That jawline and small lips... The mysterious bastard-slash-brother-in-law is here.

"You." I poke my finger at him.

He frowns, but I don't let him speak. I grab his collar, a firm but gentle hold. I don't care how close we are right now; heck, he's already ravished me, so what's the need for space?

"You knew, yet you fucked me. How could you-"

"Uh." His frown deepens, but I don't stop.

"Be so... so deceitful? So utterly shameless?"

He tilts his head, and I notice how confused he looks. His eyes narrow, yet I don't buy it.

"Why did you keep my panties? To frame me? Or what-"

I'm cut off by a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. It starts small, but then it builds-a deep, mocking laugh that makes my blood run cold. It's the same laugh I vaguely remember from the club, but no, this one sounds different.

He meets my gaze. "Are you sure you have the right person, kitty? 'Cause that sounds exactly like my brother Axel."

My world tilts. Axel. Odin's other brother. The one I met at the wedding-a fleeting handshake, a polite smile, nothing more. Or was it this one I met at the wedding?

My grip on his collar goes slack, my hand dropping as if it were burned. The image of the man from last night flashes, then superimposes with the face in front of me now. No. They are identical, but different. The eyes are similar, but the lips, the smirk... it wasn't him. It was Axel.

A fresh wave of nausea hits me, stronger than before. This is worse. So much worse. Not only have I cheated, but I've cheated with Odin's younger brother. And I just accused the wrong twin. And he damn well knows about my little secret.

"What?" The word is a pathetic squeak, barely audible over the sudden roaring in my ears. My eyes dart from his face down to my bare thighs, then back up to his gaze, which now seems to hold a flicker of something new-pity? Amusement? Disappointment?

"I... I..." My tongue feels cotton-dry. All the righteous anger that had propelled me moments ago drains out.

My cheeks flush hot. God, I want to melt into the floorboards and never resurface.

He steps fully into the room, surveying me, then the discarded fur coat, the coffee mug on the counter.

"Rough night, huh?" he asks, his voice softer now. "Looks like you could use that coffee more than a confrontation with the wrong twin. Where's Odin?"

Is he dismissing the issue? Just like that?

"Where's Odin?" he asks again, and I blink rapidly, getting myself together.

"He's, um... he's not here... he's at the office."

"No, he's not. I just got back from there," he says, shrugging and slumping on the couch.

Silence falls, and I'm still standing at the doorway, my eyes fixed on him as if waiting for something to explode. The sheer audacity of him just sitting there, calm as a cucumber, while I'm thinking about how I can claw my way out of this fresh hell. So break the silence.

"I'm sorry about all that," I say, and he finally glances my way.

"Oh, that? About your panties." He waves dismissively.

"I'm used to it. I always take the blame for every shit he does."

"Oh..." I mouth. Just as I'm about to say something else, he cuts me off, knitting his brow.

"I really don't want to know the details."

I swallow, looking away. "Um... okay... is there anything else you want?"

"Your husband and him only." He presses. "And I'm not leaving without him."

"Alright," I say, still awkwardly. "You'd better get comfortable; he won't be back till the evening." With a new fling, maybe a blonde, since his taste has changed these past few days.

He now faces me, legs crossed, rubbing his chin, eyes narrowed as if he's trying to figure something out.

"I'm a bit in a hurry, so how about you call him and tell him your kitchen burned down?"

"What?" I stare at him, dumbfounded, but he continues muttering to himself.

"Or something like an accident-you fell down the stairs."

"Hey..."

"Broke your leg."

"Hey." My voice rises, but he doesn't stop.

"Alright, we are going with your kitchen burning down." He shoots up from the couch. "Where are your matches? A lighter, perhaps?"

My eyes widen. "Are you crazy?"

"Oh, you're about to see how crazy I can get if your husband doesn't come to me right now," he says calmly.

Was he serious? Burn down the kitchen? Just to get his brother here? This man is as wild and unpredictable as Odin, maybe even more so. My head throbs, not just from the hangover, but from the sheer absurdity of it all. What am I supposed to do now? Call Odin and lie about a house fire, while his younger brother sits comfortably on my couch, waiting?

"What do you even want with him?" I ask.

"He owes me fifty million. No, scratch that, he doesn't owe it; he stole it!" His voice is sharper now as he gestures to my phone lying on the couch. "Call him. Or I'll indeed burn down your kitchen."

~~PEYTON~~

I clear my throat as I press the phone against my ear. Odin picks up at the first ring.

"What is it?" His voice is clipped, impatient, as if I'm interrupting something far more important than his wife's call. My stomach churns. This is going to be impossible.

I snivel as if I've been crying for a long time.

"Odin, come home, please. I... I..."

"What the fuck happened?" he interrupts, his voice sharper.

Now that I have his attention, I start sobbing. God, I'm not good at this, but I have no choice. Raphael's gaze is burning into me.

"The house is on fire!" I say, my voice cracking as I cry like a dramatic actress who just found out her understudy got the lead role.

"Peyton, what the fuck did you do?" he hollers, and I squirm at the tone. "It's barely an hour since I left, and you've turned the whole place into chaos. I told you to stop cooking, didn't I?"

"Come quickly, you idiot! The fire is spreading!" I cut him off, already exhausted from all the yelling and poor acting.

The line goes dead, and I sigh heavily while meeting Raphael's gaze. "Happy now?"

He nods, and that's when I realize we are only a few inches apart, my head just short of touching his chest.

I move back subtly, but he notices immediately. His eyes, sharp and assessing, follow my retreat.

"Why are you stepping back?"

"'Cause I smell like whiskey." I retort, and he closes the tiny distance between us and sniffs me.

I freeze. Did he just...

He frowns, and I'm surprised by how seriously he's taking this.

"You smell fine," he says and sniffs me again. "A little like vanilla, with a hint of something musky... and definitely not too much whiskey."

God, what is he? A human bloodhound? And why is he sniffing me like a fine wine, completely ignoring the massive elephant in the room about his brother?

I shift back and force a tiny smile, wanting to escape his suffocating presence. I hate how he makes me feel. Just a moment ago he was threatening to burn down my kitchen, and now he's complimenting me. He's so unpredictable-even more annoying than Axel.

I clear my throat. "I'm going to take a shower; make yourself comfortable."

He doesn't respond as I dash into my room, slamming the door and sliding down the wall.

God, today's one hell of a rollercoaster, and I just want it to end. I want these maniac twins to disappear so I can be left with Odin-at least he's manageable and predictable, even with his damn blondes.

*******

After my long, purposely drawn-out shower, I feel like a slightly less sticky version of myself, but the world is still spinning.

I hear the sound of Odin's car as it squeals into the garage. I can tell from the tires screeching that he rushed down here, buying my lame excuse for acting.

There's an angry thud from the door, followed by "Peyton, where the hell are-"

He pauses, and I can guess what makes him stop.

I slip out of my room, perched in a corner, eavesdropping. Hell no, I'm not interfering; I've got a lot on my plate.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Odin spits. Raphael follows.

"I need my money."

"I don't have it."

There's silence for a beat, and before I know it, I hear staggering-a brutal sound of a punch. The ground tumbles beneath my feet. Now it gets really serious.

I rush over and find Odin sprawled on the floor, blood already blooming at the corner of his lip, while Raphael stands over him, knuckles clenched, his eyes burning with a cold fury I haven't seen before.

This isn't just about money; this is personal.

He's about to deliver another blow when I wrap my hands around his waist, pulling him back. Can you imagine a small part of me scolding myself for stepping in too early? I should have let Odin receive two more punches-three even-before I stopped Raphael. Silly me.

"Let him go, Raphael," I plead.

His body stiffens, and I feel a slight tremor ripple through him, a barely contained raw power that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end.

But he doesn't move. He just stands as Odin picks himself up from the ground, wiping the blood from his lips.

"Stop pretending to care, Peyton," he spits, and I peek from behind Raphael's back.

"Excuse me?"

"You fooled me... You deceived me into rushing home for nothing, didn't you, Peyton? There's no fire! I thought... I actually thought you needed me. For once."

"Wait a minute, so you're more concerned with my lame fire acting than the fifty million you owe him?" I say, incredulous. "Oh, forgive me! Like I'm the first person with a betrayal record in this damn house. I just fucking made a mistake in saving your ass."

I turn to Raphael, my shoulders slumping. "Go ahead. Continue from where you stopped. I don't give a damn anymore. You two handle your own mess; I'm out."

I storm off and don't look back. He's talking about betrayal? Oh, really? I betrayed him? Well, he hasn't seen the worst I can do. In fact, I no longer feel bad about hooking up with his brother. I should betray him more often so he knows how it hurts.

I don't hear punching, but I hear shouting. Odin's on the defensive while Raphael stays quiet and lets him run his mouth. The thought of leaving them to their chaos is strangely freeing. Let them deal with their own inferno. I've had enough of my own to navigate.

As I reach my room, my phone rings, and I don't bother checking the caller-too angry to care.

"Yes?" I start, but there's silence from the other end.

"Hello?"

"Peyton, isn't it?"

I freeze; my knees suddenly feel weak.

That voice.

The devil has finally caught up with me.

The smooth, mischievous voice, the one I'd spent the past few hours trying to erase from my memory.

"Axel, is it?" I fire back.

He laughs. "Someone's done her research. I don't remember you recalling my name."

"What do you want?" I snap, wanting this conversation to end ASAP.

"Nothing much. I just wanted to let you know that I have your panties."

"Keep them. And don't you dare come over." I slam the phone down, my hand trembling. The nerve of that man! First, he plays with me, then he dares to call me and make that kind of statement. My cheeks flush.

I pace my room, the adrenaline from the fight still coursing through me, now mixed with a fresh wave of fury directed squarely at Axel.

How can he be so brazen? And how did he even get my number?

A sudden knock on my door makes me jump. "Peyton! Open the door!" Odin's voice is muffled, but I can hear the lingering anger.

"Go away!" I shout back, not bothering to hide the tremor in my voice.

"We need to talk about this, Peyton!" he insists, his voice closer now, as if he's pressing his ear to the wood.

"What the hell were you thinking, lying about a fire?"

I press my back against the door, my eyes squeezed shut. "It's none of your business!" I yell, though even to my own ears, it sounds weak and unconvincing.

The sound of his fist hitting the door makes me flinch. "Yes, it is! Everything in this house is my business! Now open this damn door!"

I'm about to retort when I hear my phone ping.

A text message from an unknown number.

*I don't have to come over; you're the one who'll come to me.*