Page 36 of Twins for the Enemy

I consider her. Her bottom lip twitches, a hint of amusement hidden in her features.

She only told me that because she knew I’d say no. She wants me on the back foot, trying to scramble to give her something else that she wants.

“Fine,” I say. “We’ll do it later. Go eat breakfast.”

I pivot, leaving the room without waiting for her response.

I look down at my hands. I can almost still feel her hands on them. It’s like a phantom pain, but worse because the missing body parts were never mine.

Ellie isn’t the only person Farah burned. The only difference is that I’m always walking straight back into the fire.

Chapter eleven

~FARAH~

After eating breakfast, I’m greeted by the inexplicable scene of men carrying mattresses up the grand staircase.

I don’t know if it’s a sign of my mind in the gutter or some understanding of Kieran, but my first thought is that Kieran is preparing for an unhinged, room-filled orgy.

I’ve seen the movies. Wealthy people stave off boredom by getting involved in ritualistic sex parties. Maybe it’s less true for other wealthy people, but Kieran seems like the type to be involved in the most extravagant debauchery.

It shouldn’t make me so envious.

Curiosity drives me forward, following behind the men like I’m supervising them.

They don’t turn into any of the bedrooms. They don’t even turn into the large lounge area.

They go into Kieran’s personal gym.

The exercise machines have all been moved against the walls. They place the mattresses underneath the rock climbing wall. From how I’d seen Kieran climbing, it’s not for him. It’s for me, his delicate, pregnant prisoner.

How the hell did he get mattresses here so quickly? It’s been less than an hour. The speed of it is more mysterious to me than the idea of an orgy party.

I try not to think about it, but the thoughts slip in anyway—no matter how hard I try to stay clear of everything my mind keeps chasing about Kieran.

I picture us tangled in the middle of the mattresses, his hands slipping beneath my shirt, warming the skin beneath my breasts as our legs lock together.

The heat between us builds fast, like a clash of weather—cold meeting hot, tension rising, the kind of storm that leaves you breathless.

I shake my head. I have to find him. Tell him the mattresses are unnecessary. Tell him that pregnant women rock climb all the time. Tell him that treating me this way is infuriating—and insanely kind.

I check for Kieran in his office and his bedroom. Not there.

He left.

I should be used to it by now. He sweeps breadcrumbs off his table and I nibble on them, thinking it’s a sign of affection. But he’ll always leave like I’m the pet he only entertains when he’s bored.

I could refuse to see the deer and ignore his efforts to make it easier for me, but even I know that would only make me look childish. Besides, it’s the only living thing around here that isn’t irritating me.

Maybe I’ll trample through the unshoveled snow to get to the cherry blossom tree. I’ve earned a little bit of time to sulk.

I return to my bedroom and nearly trip over my own feet as some woman is lying on my bed.

Or not a woman.

I press my hand against my chest, feeling my heart rampage in my chest. It’s a woman’s long white coat draped over the edge of the bed, with three different sizes of white boots displayed underneath it.

He must have gotten someone to deliver them, just like the mattresses.

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