Page 60 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

It’s the lack of reaction toward her at all.

In fact, she reminds me nothing of the woman who a few hours ago came apart in my arms, screaming my name.

Her cold, sapphire eyes have so much hollowness and cruelty in them they reek of darkness and deceit, making me want to move away from her, as she has no softness or pull on me.

For a second in the club, my darkness—soaked in blood and torture—found a peaceful shore where everything inside me calmed, and the rough edges present in me were soothed.

A woman who showed me a different part of herself that I thought I’d missed before, gentle and feminine to my hard and barbaric.

Where is that woman?

And why does everything in me rebel just at the idea of touching her now or slamming my mouth on hers, claiming her for everyone to see? So no one doubts who she belongs to, and sure as fuck, no one has a right to keep her away from me.

Certain memories start to pluck at my mind, putting different pieces together in alignment to build a puzzle in my head so my mind can finally see clearly what is really going on, answering all the questions in my head.

My father says love is a poison we all willingly subject ourselves to.

That’s what we are, right? Two strangers who just met.

Asher left even earlier for France.

And then how the woman in my arms stilled before running away from me the minute I called her Amalia.

Because she wasn’t Amalia, was she?

Asher Walsh never adopted an unknown baby girl in France; he adopted his niece and guarded her as the best-kept secret.

Twins.

Two heiresses to Theodore Walsh’s empire and, as such, more weapons to destroy him with.

Destiny couldn’t have granted me a greater gift if she tried.

“Remi.” Santiago bumps me with his shoulder, pulling me back from my thoughts, and I focus on the current situation.

Or rather my future sister-in-law who expects my reply, ready to sacrifice her sister in order to end this war and save her family.

Because Amalia Scott would never say yes to me otherwise.

Anger zips through me, my hold on the gun tightening, as I despise anyone using my woman in their twisted games and putting her in danger.

However, to win a game, you have to be smart, and showing emotions signals only stupidity.

“I accept the terms.” Satisfaction crosses her face, and she gives me a smug smile. I almost feel pleasure from crushing her when I add, “Under one condition.”

“What’s the condition?” she asks warily, exchanging a look with Lachlan.

“We get married tonight.”

Like I said, patience is a virtue that I sadly no longer possess.

Tonight, her twin will become my wife.

Her name is Penelope then indeed, but it doesn’t matter anyway.

Because the world will know her as mine.

Chapter Eight

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