Page 45 of CurVy 13

“The police will be here soon.” He stops close to me; I can see his lips in the hollow of the sad metallic curve. “Oliver would have told them what happened. It’s all been recorded. I just watched it streaming on the news. They will come for Tyler. They’ll lock him away in a ward again.”

I cover my gasp, shaking my head and talking. “Oh God. No. I can talk to Oliver or…” My eyes drop to the carpet, my mind stirring with images and consequences.

Will they know I’m on the case? That I wasn’t honest? That I was hiding my connection to them… Or wasn’t hiding it, but I was extorted? Threatened.

“Look at me,” he says, and I snap my gaze back to him. “When they get here. You need to tell them that it was me. That I attacked the arsehole.”

“But— but—” It’s not possible. “They have footage.”

The eerie mask stares at me like it wants to dive into my mind and check my intentions.

Can he trust me?

It takes all my tolerance not to growl at him for that sceptical look. Damn him. He is the one who did this to me, but he doesn’t trust me?

The pause is heavy, then he lifts his hand, reaches back, and with a big exhale, he slowly removes his mask.

Hairs rise on the back of my neck.

My eyes widen on the most stunning and familiar face. Cheeks like the plane of a chiselled diamond. Eyes, blue and bright. “Identical,” I breathe.

“Identical twins,” he confirms.

Now, seeing his mouth move, his voice soar through his lips, the pulse of his cheeks, the tight weave of his brows, yes— that’s Donnie. I can imagine him now, beneath me last night, inside me, when our eyes lingered in hate and something else.

“They’ll know you’re on my brother’s trial,” he says, schooling his expression. “So, you need to tell them I’ve been holding you hostage, threatening you, and I need you to tell them that I tried to kill Oliver because he knew too much. You have to do this. They’ll take you off the trial because you can’t be objective anymore.”

“But your brother’s case?”

“I still have Louise’s grandmother.”

My stomach knots up.

My eyes roll over his face. The real Donnie is a thing of enchantment, and my gaze is mesmerised by the way his mouth wraps around words of authority, by his serious expression. I reach up, rising to my tippy-toes, and touch his smooth cheek.

His brows furrow.

“What will you do?” I ask.

He pulls my hand from his face. I try not to flinch from the rejection. “I’ll take off.”

“Now?”

“Right now.”

“How will you fix this?”

He places a palm on either side of my head, caging me between him and the wall. “I’ll sort something out, Pup. I always do. But you…” He lowers his face, his mouth stopping inches from mine, his breath racing down my chest. I grip the wall behind me, my fingers flexing on it. “Need to protect Ty for me. He’s fragile. He’s vulnerable. I won’t have him go back to the psych ward. He dies in there.”

My heart is twisting.

I don’t understand it…

He lowers his nose into my hair, lingering, so close to rolling his cheek against mine, but… not. It feels like goodbye, and hello. It feels wrong. My throat thickens.

Don’t go.

“And he’ll protect you, too, Pup.” He chuckles softly. “From other men. From your loneliness.”

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