Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
“Well, don’t you two look thoroughly…satisfied,” he drawls, the insinuation heavy in his tone.
I don’t rise to the bait, refusing to let him goad me into another display of temper. “What do you want, Arson?”
His expression sobers, the mocking amusement fading into something harder, more calculating. “We need to talk about Lilian’s mother. She’s been calling nonstop and texting your phone. I think Lilian needs to call her so she simmers the fuck down.”
TWELVE
LILIAN
“You might want to check this,” Arson says, handing me my phone as I step out of the bathroom in the clothes we quickly threw on, hair still dripping onto my shoulders. “It’s been blowing up for the past hour.”
I take it from him, careful not to let our fingers touch. There’s still too much electricity between us, too much rawness after what just happened in the shower with Aries. My body feels hypersensitive, aware of both twins in a way that should be unsettling but somehow isn’t. I don’t want to ignite either one unexpectedly. Part of me feels like I’m juggling a ticking time bomb…and the other part of me likes the power.
The screen lights up with notifications—seventeen missed calls and twenty-three text messages, all from the same contact: Mother.
“Shit,” I mutter, scrolling through the increasingly frantic texts. The last one, sent just ten minutes ago, is a simple but ominous: WHERE ARE YOU???
Three question marks. Mother never uses multiple punctuation marks. She considers it vulgar, a sign of emotional incontinence. The fact that she’s broken her own rule speaks volumes about her state of mind.
“What does she want?” Aries asks, stepping up behind me. His hair is damp and tousled, his jeans so very low on his hips. The evidence of his captivity is stark in the harsh warehouse light—ribs too visible, muscles less defined than they once were, but still undeniably powerful. Still unmistakably him.
“The usual but at like level ten,” I explain, holding up the phone. “She’s been trying to reach me.”
“Can we get away from her until we figure all of this out?” Arson suggests, his voice casual but his eyes watchful. “She’s just trying to reel you back in.”
I don’t point out that he had to interrupt my moment with Aries, wanting to me to contact her, only now to suggest I ignore her. We don’t have time for more squabbles.
I shake my head, moving toward the bedroom to find fresh clothes now. “It’s not that simple. If I don’t respond, she’ll escalate. Trust me, you don’t want to see what that looks like.”
They follow me around the bedroom, maintaining a careful distance from each other. The truce between them feels tenuous, fragile—a gossamer thread that could snap with one wrong word or careless gesture.
I rummage through the duffel bag of clothes someone brought for me, pulling out clean underwear, jeans, and a soft gray sweater.
I strip out of the clothes I was wearing earlier and quickly tug on fresh underwear. Both men catalog my body as I move in a way that’s so intense it’s almost unsettling. When I’m fully dressed, Aries turns away to find his own fresh clothing. Arson continues to stare, like he’s waiting for a chance to remove every stitch I just layered on. I swallow the urge to let him. I run my fingers through my damp hair, trying to impose some order on the tangled strands. My reflection in the small mirror above a beat-up dresser shows flushed cheeks, bright eyes, swollen lips—all evidence of the past hour’s activities. I look alive in a way I haven’t in years. Maybe ever.
“What’s the plan?” Aries asks, already pulling on his own clothes with efficient movements. “Regarding your mother.”
I sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed as the reality of my situation crashes back over me. The bubble of desire and connection we’d created in the shower bursts, leaving me facing the cold facts of our predicament once more.
“I have to call her,” I say, staring down at the phone in my hand. “If I don’t, she’ll send people looking for me. And they’ll find me, find us. She’s relentless that way.”
“Let her try,” Arson says with quiet menace, leaning against the wall with deceptive casualness. “I’ve hidden from the Hayes family for years. I know how to disappear.”
“It’s not just about hiding,” I explain, looking up at him. “It’s about buying time. We need to figure out what those men want with Aries, why they’re funding your revenge. If my mother creates a manhunt, we’ll be too busy running to find answers.”
Aries nods, buttoning his shirt with precise movements. “She’s right. We need breathing room. A distraction.”
“Exactly,” I agree, relieved that at least one of them understands. “Let me handle my mother. I’ve been managing her my whole life.”
With that, I stand and move toward the door. “I need coffee for this conversation.”