Page 50 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

Oh God, oh God.

What do people do in situations like this?

Vaguely, I remember my dad giving me the talk a few years back that, due to my family name, people might kidnap me for ransom, so I should always be careful and not blast our surname anywhere.

Back then, his words seemed paranoid, but the more time I spend in Chicago, the more I come to the conclusion that my father was right all along.

Chicago must hate all the Walshes, because so far I’ve been treated like shit by almost everyone.

“If you need money, my father will pay any amount,” I say, doing my best to hold his stare while reining in the panic creeping in slowly and threatening to wipe away any sane thoughts.

His piercing blue eyes scan me from head to toe, a bored look settling on his features as if he finds nothing interesting there. “If I indeed kidnapped you, Penelope, you’d be suffering now in my dungeon, begging for me to spare your life.” He glances at his platinum watch glistening under the light. “Give or take five minutes.”

Everything inside me freezes at his admission, cold sweat breaking on my skin while goose bumps pop on my flesh and bile fills my throat at the picture he’s painted in my mind.

I scoot back on the couch, pressing hard, as if it can protect me from him while hectically wondering what else this man might want from me. I’ve never seen him in my life, but a sense of dominance and power seeps from him, almost suffocating me.

Probably people who cross this man don’t live long enough to tell their tale.

“Who are you?” I repeat my question as I search my memory for all the lectures in my psychology classes about psychos who do dark deeds for different reasons and how to deal with them.

Although my father found it strange, my favorite shows always included some kind of crime, and I could spend hours watching documentaries about serial killers, fascinated and horrified by their minds.

In almost all these shows though, most of them looked creepy and lived less-than-stellar lives, and this man doesn’t seem like one based on his appearances alone.

Appearances can be deceiving though, so until he tells me what he wants from me, I won’t exclude the strong possibility he might be a psychopath.

He ignores my question, instead continuing his earlier thought. “Thankfully, you’ve led a boring and innocent life. No need to be afraid.” He grabs a nearby chair from the desk and drags it closer to the couch, the legs scraping against the wooden floor and grating on my already tight nerves. “However, a certain situation requires our mutual cooperation so it can be beneficial for both parties.” He unbuttons his suit jacket, sweeping it back as he settles on the chair, placing his ankle on his knee while his elbows rest on the chair’s arms.

His words filled with riddles make zero sense to me. “I don’t understand.” The headache intensifies, and the throbbing in my temples starts. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

Amusement flashes in his eyes, and his chuckle echoes through the room, hollow in nature, warning everyone about the true character of this man. “I don’t make mistakes.” He twirls the glass in his hand and then speaks up. “Remi Reyes. A man who considers you his.”

I blink in surprise at the sound of his name, and my betraying body allows the warmth to wash over me, remembering how it felt to have his strong, powerful arms hug me so close the outside world disappeared.

And with it, all the worries, while nothing but pleasure existed for me for the first time in my life.

All of this was just an illusion, a fragment of my imagination, because his passion and all the dirty words belonged to my twin.

A twin he must know and want, since he stalked me in the club and claimed me almost instantly.

And the idiot that I am believed he actually felt these emotions for me.

Naïve fool.

This should be my nickname.

Shaking my head from the thoughts about the mysterious man who set my body aflame and storing them in the box locked in my heart, I say, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My fingers fist the dress harsher. “Remi doesn’t want me.” At least this much is true.

His brow rises. “Is this why he claimed you in front of the whole club?”

I frown at his question. What does he mean by that anyway?

All he did was dance with me before taking me to the secluded place where he had sex with me.

I’m sure he’s had plenty of sex in his life.

Pure rage fills me as the green-eyed monster awakens inside me, wanting to claw his face at the prospect of him touching anyone else like he touched me or even daring to look at another woman.

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