Page 31 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

A girl who suffered so much she no longer could hold on.

Even for her twin.

Penelope

I tear my gaze away from the magnificent stranger downstairs. His gaze alone breaks goose bumps on my skin, and fire slides through my veins, shooting straight to my nerve endings that demand his attention. I go to the table and grab a glass of water, gulping it greedily and welcoming the cooling sensations in my throat.

My God, what’s going on with me?

I’ve been here for twenty-four hours and already have managed to react to two men who awaken dormant desires in me that I thought, considering my dating life, I’d never know.

Maybe if you suppress your natural cravings for a long time, then the result is you want to jump on any handsome man.

But then if that was true, I would have appreciated the other three Dark Four, yet they inspire no such cravings in me, and I shiver in disgust at the idea of doing anything with them.

Now, Remi on the other hand….

I groan inwardly again from the stupidity of it all. Who in the hell gets turned on by looks alone? I grab the water bottle, ready to pour myself another glass, when Isla turns on her heels.

My brows shoot up when she gulps for breath, opening and closing her mouth as if some battle is going on inside her, and then says, “I have to go.” That’s all the warning I get before she races to the door, opens it wide, and takes off to God knows where.

“The hell?” I mutter, quickly placing the bottle back on the table, and follow her, my heels clicking on the parquet. I rush through the hallway and then downstairs, barely catching up with her on the dance floor. She’s pushing the bodies away, moving forward as if on a mission.

I grab her elbow to stop her and pull her toward me so she’s facing me. Music blasts from the speakers, and the floor vibrates under us from people dancing.

“Where are you going, Isla?”

To my astonishment, her cheeks heat up, and she exhales heavily. She steps closer to me when someone bumps into her from behind, then says, “I’m sorry, Penelope. But I need to talk to one of them about my past.” She hooks a brown lock over her ear. “I’ve been waiting for this for months, believe it or not.” She mutters the last part, narrowing her eyes as she rises on her tiptoes, trying to look over the people’s heads to the bar. “I think you should go home.”

I blink in surprise at this, my hold easing on her, and I ask, “What?”

She nods, freeing herself completely from my grasp. “Thank you for giving me this chance. I’ll send you the report tomorrow. You have no idea how you’ve helped me.” She turns away, glancing at the bar again. “But I have to go. I probably shouldn’t have dragged you into this, and for that, I apologize.”

Is she kidding me right now?

She at least could have warned me she wouldn’t need me for longer than fifteen minutes; I wouldn’t have sent my driver home. And now she wants me to what? Trust her word and have another sleepless night in the hotel room while expecting her report?

She’s beyond bizarre and clearly has some unresolved issue with Octavius Reed, but I really don’t give a shit.

I’m about done playing her game and jumping through various hoops in order to get what she promised me in the first place. “Send me the report now, and we’ll be done.”

She shakes her head. “No. I can’t. Not before—”

“You can’t?” I repeat and huff in exasperation, glaring at the man who waves his hands around in the air and spills a little of his drink on my shoes. “Isla, keep your word, or I swear to God you’ll be kicked out of this club before you get the opportunity to speak to one of the owners.”

Anger crosses her face. “I’m about tired of all you rich people threatening me.” She crosses her arms, although amusement dances on the edges of her voice. “It’s hilarious, all things considered.”

I ignore her comment. My words hardly count as a threat, because I have no idea how one gets kicked out of this place, but still.

Who knows what Isla will demand next if this meeting of hers goes south? “Yeah? Well, I’m tired too of all the shit you private investigators put me through. Send the report, and we’ll be done.”

She studies me for several seconds as tension rises between us, and then a grin stretches her mouth, brightening up her whole face, which makes me frown.

“I think I’m starting to like you, Penelope. You are a character under all that good-girl persona. You have that in common with Amalia.” I freeze at this, my ears perking up whenever the name slips past her lips, greedily soaking up any information I can get on my twin. “She doesn’t hesitate to put people in their place if they try her patience either.”

The music changes from a soft tempo to a hard thump. My blood pumps from the adrenaline rush, and I watch people move around the dance floor, pushing us closer together. The scent of sweat and sex fills the air, and I don’t protest when she grips my wrist, tugging me toward the bar. Standing in the middle of these people is disgusting; I don’t need anyone’s fluids on me.

One of the reasons I found sex so lacking and boring was because my mind could never stop thinking about my surroundings or the awkwardness of it all.

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