Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Her jaw dropped. “They’re twins? I mean, I could tell they must have looked alike when I saw Pierce at the funeral, but twins? No wonder Pierce was so upset when Jameson supposedly died. Aren’t twins supposed to have some kind of extra-special connection?”
I smirked as I dropped my arm back down onto my raised knee. “Not these twins, trust me. They were born by Caesarean section. Family legend has it that the moment the doctors opened their mother’s belly they had to pry Jameson’s arms from around Pierce’s throat. The man literally tried to kill his brother in the womb.”
“Holy shit,” she whispered, pressing her fingertips to her mouth.
“Because of that, Pierce was pulled out first and became the eldest and the heir. Jameson has never gotten over being the twin who came second. He’s been competing and failing at a competition Pierce didn’t even know he was a part of their entire lives.”
“So, what? This is all some twisted plot to kill Pierce so he can be the heir?”
I pointed at her. “Give the lady a prize.”
She leaned forward. “How? Why? This is all fucking insane! Evil twins? Seriously? This is the real world, not some trashy TV soap opera.”
I tilted my head. “It was terrifying in its simplicity. It was supposed to be a tragic accident. Madison was there to lend credibility so she could attest to his anger and erratic driving. There would be a very sad funeral. Then Jameson was going to kill Pierce and take over his identity. He would then head to Europe for a year, using his supposed grief over his brother’s death as cover. Some fancy spa or treatment center. When Jameson returned, he would blame his long absence on any changes in appearance if people noticed that he didn’t look exactly like Pierce. Except Jameson hadn’t planned on Pierce literally making a court case out of it.”
“So why are you involved in this?”
I shrugged. “Greed.”
She mimicked my shrug. “Greed. That’s it? That’s your explanation?”
“We both have competing engineering companies as part of our holdings. Jameson promised to agree to a merger with me as the head. It’s a deal worth billions.”
“So you ruined my friend’s life over a stupid corporate merger? You—”
Before she could press further, I shifted position. Grabbing her ankles, I pulled her down onto her back. Then pressed my weight on top of her and slid down between her legs. I raised one eyebrow as I kissed her flat abdomen. “I’m hungry.”
She tried to dislodge me, gesturing to the broken window where the wind and rain were still pouring in. “Yeah? Well, I’m cold!”
I kissed her inner thigh. “Perfect. I have a way to solve both of our problems.”
CHAPTER 35
MADISON
The driveway twisted tighter with each turn, loose gravel shifting beneath my ruined shoes.
Then the trees parted.
V. C. Andrews could have written this place.
The mansion stood at the top of the hill. Stone and iron and too many windows to count. Gargoyles crouched along the roofline. The wrought iron gates stood wide, though everything about them—the spear-tipped finials, the thorned scrollwork—said they were built to keep something in, more than anyone out. The stone had gone black where the rain soaked it. Turrets and gables stacked on top of one another until the uppermost peaks seemed to vanish into the clouds.
Lightning cracked above the mansion, silhouetting the trees around it. For one frozen second, every window, every gargoyle, every branch went white against the sky. Then gone.
My gaze went to the upper floors, scanning the dark panes. I half expected a face to appear up there. A woman in a Victorian gown or a child in a flowing nightdress. Houses with this many locked rooms and sealed wings always came with tragedy. With mysterious death. The kind no one in the family spoke about at dinner.
Pierce gently pushed me forward, his hand on my lower back.
I knew better than to think it was a protective gesture.
He was escorting me deeper into hell, like some dark and twisted Virgil leading me to a cage.
The double doors at the top of the wide, carved stone staircase opened when we were still several yards away. An older gentleman in a crisp black suit with tails stood at attention.
Jesus Christ, the man was a butler.
Pierce was rich rich.
Butler rich.
I should have known.
Was the rest of the staff about to pour out of the doors like you would see on Downton Abbey? All dressed in smart maid and footman uniforms with the Worthington family crest on them, holding matching black umbrellas to shield the master of the house from the inconvenience of Mother Nature.
I sighed and rolled my eyes before I grasped the torn edges of my soiled blouse, pulling them more tightly over my exposed bra as I smoothed down my wet, wind-tangled hair.