Sighing, she unclasps the necklace, her eyes narrowing on me. “Fine, it’s probably fake anyway.”
“Nothing we own is fake, only the sluts my brother drapes them on.”
“Fuck you,” she spits.
“Not in this lifetime.” I shudder. My brother may put his dick in anything with a pulse, but for me, meaningless sex is just that: meaningless. It didn’t appeal to me. It just made me feel empty. Twenty-eight years of nothingness becomes tedious in the end. I tried to settle with an ex, but couldn’t do it.
“Take me to her,” Cash demands.
When we enter the room, I half expect the girl to fly at me, scolding me for her imprisonment. Instead, we find her asleep on the bed, a long skirt now covering her legs and a sleeveless camisole on her upper body. Thick, dark curls feather out over the white linen. Black lashes fan her face. She has a petite nose and large, luscious lips. Freckles decorate the apples of her cheeks. She’s breathtakingly beautiful. And that makes her dangerous.
“She looks like her,” Cash announces, reminding me he’s here. There’s just our breathing filling the air between us.
“But she’s not her,” I remind him.
“Don’t you think I realize that?” he bites out, the room darkening with his aggression. His hand goes to his heart, rubbing the ache there that comes with thoughts of Clara.
“Did she say why she’s here?”
“Only that her sister died here.”
“And Father?”
“I haven’t told him.”
“Don’t!” He turns fast, grabbing me by the shoulders. “Don’t you dare tell him.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I rebuke, removing his hands from me, stroking down the lapels of my suit. “We should allow her to sleep. She got banged up getting here, we can question her tomorrow.” I head toward the door, looking over my shoulder to find Cash moving closer to the bed, his brow furrowed. “Cash?”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
Eleven
Cash
Fuck, this is not what I expected from tonight. I hate this time of year—this fucking day. The anniversary of Clara’s death never gets easier. It’s like hell opens up and drags me back there, back to the blood, pain…the soul gone from her eyes the day we found her. Just seeing Mona laying here is like a cruel joke. I need a drink. How can she look so much like her, yet different enough to know this isn’t a trick my eyes are playing on me? The urge to lay down beside her and inhale her scent, get lost in the short memories of the time we spent together is overwhelming. It’s not her, asshole.
Why is she here? What does she gain by coming here? How is she not afraid of us? Thoughts of Clara play in my mind—her laughter, her smile, the way every touch was a new sensation to her. Her innocence was so addictive to corrupt.
She begins to stir, and I hold my breath. When she doesn’t wake, I drag a chair to the side of the bed and slump down in it. She’s beautiful, just like Clara was. Just a few more minutes in her presence, then I’ll leave.
My eyes blink open, and it takes me a few seconds to realize I must have fallen asleep. I jolt when I see the girl standing above me on the bed holding a lamp.
What the fuck? My arms are trapped. She’s tied me to the damn chair with one of the curtains from the bed.
“Who are you?” she asks, her eyes impossibly wide, wary.
“You tied me up?” I want to laugh. Colt is going to have my life for this.
“Who are you? You’re not the same guy who locked me in here.” She’s confident of that, despite us being twins. My hair and eyes are fairer in color.
“I’m his brother. We’re twins,” I growl, trying to pull free from her bindings. “Can you please untie me?”
The lamp still out in front of her like a weapon, she backs up to the other side of the room.
“Why were you watching me sleep?”
Fuck, I bet that was creepy for her to wake up to.
“I was just curious about you. You look like Clara.” My words knock her off guard. Her eyes flash as her arms falter.
“How do you know Clara?”
I lift my chin to gesture to her necklaces. “I helped her pick those out.”
A gasp escapes her pretty lips as she wraps her hand around the pendants.
“You’re the Ward brothers,” she whispers.
“Guilty.” I smirk.
“How did you know her?” She stalks closer, finally putting down the lamp. “Were you friends?”
“Did she not tell you about me?” I ask, confused she wouldn’t have mentioned me to the most important person in her life. Clara always spoke of her sister and rescuing her from her father’s corrupted morals.
“No.”
Damn, that hurts.
“Mona, please untie me.” I say her name to put her at ease.