Page 51 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

He’s mine.

Yeah, okay.

I’m insane.

Jealousy has no place in one-night stands or with a man who never desired you to begin with. Yet the foreign possessiveness is hard to control, and a bitter taste fills my mouth.

I love my twin to pieces despite never meeting her, but in this moment, anger swirls in the pit of my stomach at the knowledge that Remi prefers her over me. And doesn’t that just show how shallow I am?

The man clears his throat, pulling my attention back to him. “Trust me. Remi wants someone else. Not me.” A beat passes, and I say, “So please let me go and hash out whatever issue you have with him.” Then I can go back to the hotel, get information from Isla, who decided to ditch me at the freaking club, and forget everything that has happened in Chicago like a bad dream.

“Ah. You mean Amalia?” A gasp slips past my lips at my twin’s name. “He did chase her around for the last few years despite my disapproval. I never liked the fucker, but his resolve impressed me.”

His disapproval?

I swing my legs to the side, my bare feet touching the cold floor, while my torso sways forward. “Amalia? You know Amalia?”

A smile shapes his mouth. “She’s one of my protégés.”

What in the hell? Protégé? Who are these people anyway? Some secret brotherhood or something?

“Isla is lucky her best friend is married to one of our own.” His hold on the glass tightens. “We don’t appreciate strangers creating reports on us.”

Momentarily forgetting about this man kidnapping me and threatening Isla—who apparently left out an important piece of information, like spying on high-class people—I get up and clasp my hands together. “Amalia? Where is Amalia?”

He takes a sip and counts. “Three. Two. One.”

Heels clicking on the floor echo before the double doors burst open, and a stunning woman enters, blazing with fury so strong I feel it charging the air all around us.

The hard wind from behind billows her straight hair forward while the red dress with a turtleneck and long sleeves ends midthigh. It showcases her body in the most flattering way and brings attention to the generous swell of her breasts and her long legs.

Sophisticated, elegant, gorgeous.

Just a few words to describe her, yet they don’t even begin to do her justice.

Flawless makeup accentuates her high cheekbones and vivid ocean eyes that are framed by long, black lashes.

My heart swells with happiness and joy. I’m so proud all I can do is stare at my twin after all these years, in awe of her beauty.

All this time, while wondering about our meeting and playing thousands of scenarios in my head, I thought that seeing her for the first time would be almost like watching my reflection in the mirror.

Oh, how wrong I’ve been.

Because she is the stunning version I could never measure up to, a mesmerizing mirage you cannot take your eyes away from.

Could I blame Remi for wanting her?

My twin, the other half of my soul, my sister, is finally here in front of me, and my hands are itching to trace over her face to confirm she is real.

Tears form in my eyes while my stomach flips, my heart beating so wildly I feel the pulse in my neck, and even my earlier headache is gone.

Because the kidnapping was worth it if it means I’m actually seeing my Amalia.

“Amalia,” I whisper her name, addressing her for the first time, and take a step toward her, ready to hug her close and never let go.

A sob escapes me, and I cover my mouth with my palm, emotions threatening to overwhelm me in this moment.

Countless nights filled with nightmares. Private investigators who considered me crazy.

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