by René, Dani
His gaze penetrates mine. He can see it. A small smile plays on his lips, and he offers a curt nod.
It’s Ash. It will always be Ash.
“I’m happy,” he tells me and presses a chaste kiss to my cheek.
“Am I interrupting?” Ash’s voice cuts through the air, causing Ember to move farther away from me, but he doesn’t seem perturbed that his brother is there.
“You are.” Ember chuckles.
“I . . . I’m going to freshen up,” I mumble in embarrassment. But before I have time to push past Ash at the doorway, his hand shoots out, gripping my arm.
Snapping my gaze to his, I find those beautiful orbs pinned on me. The corner of his mouth kicks into a grin. “The next time you decide to partake in stuff like that, I’d prefer you two take it upstairs. I’m not in the habit of watching my brother hump a girl on the kitchen counter.”
He releases me and saunters into the kitchen, leaving me in shock, staring at his back as he opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of beer. As soon as I reach the bathroom on the first floor, I shove the door closed and lean against it, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat. What are you doing, Kat?
As much as I’d like to believe in all this, something still niggles at me. What do they really want? Being charitable to someone less fortunate is one thing, but I don’t think what they’re offering me is merely out of the goodness of their hearts.
Lifting my fingers to my lips, I touch them tentatively. The buzz from Ember’s kiss still tingles over my mouth, and I wonder how he can be warm like fire, burning me, while Ash is cool and so aloof.
Pulling open the drawers, I check each one, finding them empty. I close the lid of the toilet and sit on the white porcelain. Sighing, I take in the immaculate bathroom. Expensive tiles, glass, and chrome, with towels the color of oranges decking out the space.
The bathtub looks like it could hold a football team. The shower is no different, with two showerheads and a glass wall. In the top drawer of the cabinet is a hair-dryer, along with a straightener. Brand new toothbrushes, toothpaste, and toiletries are all set out as if my hosts were expecting me.
I guess they were.
When I lift my gaze to the mirror, noticing my mouth is slightly swollen from my earlier kiss, my cheeks flushed, and my hair a tangle of chestnut curls.
My reflection is a stranger. She’s Katerina, not Flame. For the first time today, I smile at myself and allow happiness into my heart.
But only for a moment.
I’ve never had opportunities fall into my lap. The past two years have never given me anything that didn’t come at a price, and I have a feeling this time is no different. Only, I wish I could figure out what the cost is with the Addington twins.
Tonight, I’ll find out why I’m really here.
Ash
“Did you enjoy that?”
I swig my beer, keeping my gaze locked on my brother. He doesn’t look at me, but I can tell he’s pleased with himself. She’s not a toy. Even as I think it, I know I’m lying to myself. I want to play with her to see how much she can take before she finally breaks.
But Ember? He wants to coax her, to pet and stroke her until she’s a docile little kitten in his lap. I’m not a nice man. I never have been. And this time, I’m not going to be anything other than myself.
It’s no secret the girl makes my dick hard. She makes me want to do things to her, I’ve never wanted to do with anyone else. But there’s an innocence to her that causes me to want to break her, make her cry and beg, and then slowly put her back together. A puzzle for my personal enjoyment.
“As a matter of fact, brother, I did.” Ember smiles. His face is lit up with mischief like it always does when he has the upper hand on me. He just doesn’t know how much of an advantage he actually has. I want to tell him, but the moment I open my mouth, I shut it again.
“Good,” I tell him, attempting nonchalance. “Then you’ll enjoy me taking her to the dinner tomorrow night?”
“You mean the black-tie event where you’re going to dress her up like Cinderella, and then what?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, his gaze burning through me, and I can tell he’s angry.
“Then you’ll be there at midnight, just like we planned,” I tell him while shrugging off his hard stare. Ember has always believed people can change, that there’s good in everyone. But each time he’s given me the benefit of the doubt, I’ve disappointed him. Not because I want to, but because he loves me too much, and I can’t have him doing that.
“So, what? I’m Prince Charming?” He chuckles wryly, shaking his head.
I swallow the rest of my beer before responding, “If that’s who you’d like to be, then so be it.”
“This isn’t a fucking fairytale, Ashton!”
“Calm yourself.” I set the bottle on the counter and head to the fridge to grab another. I know I’m only making him angrier, but I want him to hate me. I want him to remember all our fights when I have to tell him the truth about why I’m doing this.
“Fuck you, brother,” he retorts. The words are hissed through his clenched teeth, and I take note of his taut jaw.
“What’s wrong?” Kat’s sweet voice comes from the doorway, and I watch in awe as my brother visibly calms down with her arrival.
“I was just telling Ember I have something to finish up.” I smile, stalking to the doorway where the little kitten is still standing. Her gaze meets mine. The questions that dance in her stormy eyes still me for a moment, and I wonder if I would ever have a chance with a girl like her.
“Are you leaving?” Her voice makes my heart do stupid shit. Things it has no right to do. I should ignore her, walk right by her because she’s not here for me. She’s here for Ember.
“I have work to do,” I tell her with a curt nod.
I take her in for a moment longer, then, without response, offer a nod and turn to walk away. Her burning touch still lingers on my skin, but I can’t turn to look at her because I know if I do, I’m breaking every rule I’ve ever made—don’t fall for anyone.
Making my way through the house, I’m still thinking about her as I walk through the dimly lit hallways. I like having her here, there’s something calming about it. But Ember’s game boiled my blood earlier. Seeing his lips on hers wasn’t what I expected to find when I walked into the kitchen. I want to drink, to get obliviously drunk and forget she’s in our home, but I know I can’t.
I can’t forget her.
No matter how I try.
Settling in the chair in my father’s office, I close my eyes, not needing to see the dark, dreary antique furniture that still fills this room. When I first walked into the office after his death, I knew I would have my work cut out for me.
Thankfully Ember had no interest in the company. I know why he doesn’t want to do it. And the reasons behind his choice make my own heart cave in on itself.
Even though we may disagree on many things, my brother is my life, and I would do anything for him. Seeing him in pain, I feel it down to my core. Our connection as twins has been somewhat supernatural throughout our lives, and now, it’s no different. Only this time, he doesn’t know what I’ve done.
The phone echoes shrilly through the room, and the moment I pick up, I know who it is. “How are you?” I question the man who holds so many lives in the palm of his hand.
“Well, thank you. This girl you’ve recommended, she is a stellar student,” he tells me; something I already know. “I’d love to meet her tomorrow.”
“She’ll be there as my plus one,” I respond easily. “Thank you for taking in the late admission, Dean Waverley.”
“Anything for the Addington boys. Your father was a good man.”
His words grip my heart, squeezing so tight I’m almost breathless. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
He hangs up, and I consider asking him not to mention why I asked him to admit her. It’s my last evening with the beauty before I step back and allow my brother to take the lead.
Opening the folder on my computer desktop, I click on the file and scan the agreement. I signed it; Ember did as well. It’s not the same one we offered Katerina. She doesn’t know what we’ve planned and as wrong as it is, I know there’s no going back now.
Closing the document, I rise from my chair and head to the cabinet against the wall. I pop open the decanter and pour a double shot of amber liquid. My father’s favorite became mine when he died. I swallow back the shot before I feel her presence in the office.
“Ash?”
“What are you doing in here?” I grit out, not turning to meet those steel gray eyes. As much as I’d love to cast my gaze on her, I focus on the wall before me. Lowering my head, I pour another shot and pick up the tumbler.
“I . . . I’m not sure what’s happened—”
“You should go and eat dinner with Ember,” I say, still not looking at her. I know if I do, I’ll crumble. I’ll feel something when I shouldn’t, and that will be a problem. I’ve watched her for so long it feels as if I know her. But I don’t. She’s not mine.
“Look, I know you’re angry,” she says.
“I’m not angry. I just don’t need a fucking babysitter,” I bite out, spinning on my heel to meet her wide eyes. Her expression tightens with anger.
“You’re such a fucking asshole,” she spits angrily, and I don’t blame her. I don’t even tell her she’s wrong. She’s not.
Shrugging, I settle in the chair and watch her from behind the desk. A classic beauty—her dark, curly hair hangs over her shoulders. Smooth alabaster skin is blemish free, and her pouty lips call to me, making me want to steal them with my own. I can tell she’s not wearing a bra and it doesn’t help my dick hardening in my slacks.
“I don’t know what I did to you—”
“You didn’t do shit to me. This is an agreement we’re offering you. Like I said, a business transaction. You study, and we pay. That’s it,” I tell her. “I told you, Kitten, I’m not a nice man, and I hope you don’t mistake me offering to pay for your education as an indication that I’ll change.”
“I don’t hold out hope, Ash. It’s been a long time since I allowed that emotion to steer me in life. It’s a lie. And I don’t deal well with lies.” Her words ring through me, and I wonder if I should tell her why she’s here. Her gaze hardens with anger when I don’t make a move to talk to her. Why should I? The only thing I can tell her will hurt her more than anything, so I shrug nonchalantly and sip my drink.
“Then you best leave me to my drink, Kitten,” I tell her, flicking my fingers in a gesture of dismissal which I know will annoy her. If this were a world of fairy tales, our princess is nothing short of perfect.
“You really are an asshole, Ashton Addington,” she mumbles, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. They look like diamonds under the spotlight—mesmerizing and hypnotic.
“On Saturday, I’d like you to accompany me to a gala event at the university. The dean would like to meet you,” I tell her, not bothering to respond to the comment she made.
She crosses her arms in front of her chest, her gaze burning into me. “And what makes you think I’m going to spend the evening with you?”
“Well . . .” I shrug, rising to head back for another refill. “If you don’t, the Dean won’t meet you, and you’ll not be admitted to your course.”
“But—”
“Yes or no, Kitten?” The alcohol swishes against the crystal, and I know I’ve won. She’ll soon learn that I always win. There’s nothing in this life that I can’t get. And Katerina is one of those things.
“Fine. But if you so much as utter a rude word at me once . . .” she informs me, her chin lifting in defiance, and I can’t help but chuckle.
She’s like a brand new kitten—playful, feisty, and sassy.
I like it.
I like her.
A little too much.
Katerina
Spinning on my heel, I head out of the office, not wanting to spend another second with Ash. His rudeness is too much, and I wonder briefly if it had anything to do with Ember kissing me.
I need to leave. As I head down the hallway, convinced that I’m going to get Ember to take me home, I come across photos perched on a cupboard along the wall.
I stop in front of one photo and notice the two boys with a woman who must be their mother. Her long blond hair is flicked behind her shoulders, and the two boys are cuddled against her cheeks. Three grinning faces. Were they out having a picnic? Or was it a celebration, perhaps a birthday?
I notice her eye color upon closer inspection. It’s strange—one blue and one green—and I wonder if that’s why the boys have different eye colors.
One person is missing in the photo—their father. Come to think of it, he’s in none of the pictures. My brows furrow in confusion as I make my way through each picture, and I note there isn’t a man in any of them. Perhaps he’s the one behind the camera.
Growing up, you think your parents are invincible. It’s as if they’re superheroes and you think they’ll always be there. You expect them to be. At least, I suppose until you’re married with kids of your own. But death doesn’t have a timeframe. It comes when you least expect it. And when it visits, it leaves breath-stealing pain in its wake.
What would it be like if I was never able to see my father again? Not even in a photo—a captured memory. What if they’d all burned down along with the rest of the store?
My heart suddenly hurts for both boys that they don’t have something to hold onto, a tangible thing reminding them of their dad, I can’t imagine how much it must hurt. I feel guilty for being so angry at Ash. His pain isn’t something he hides on the inside like his brother. Ash exerts his rage outwardly, and I wonder if he’s like that with everyone. If so, that’s a dangerous thing to do. Because you could be pushing someone away who may inadvertently help you.
When I arrive in the living room, I find Ember sitting on the sofa, his left ankle resting on his right knee. His green eyes meet mine and the corner of his mouth quirks when he sees me.
“He told you to leave him alone,” he says before taking a sip from the glass he’s holding. It’s not a question. He knows his brother so well.
I nod.
“That’s one thing about Ashton; he prefers being on his own.”
“Unless he has a woman in a hotel room?” The snarky comment tumbles from my lips without me thinking. I shouldn’t be jealous. I was one of those women, but for reasons I don’t want to explain, I do feel envious that he’d rather spend time with a stranger and pay them than to be here with us.
He laughs. “My brother enjoys being around anyone who doesn’t allow him to feel. Emotion and Ash don’t go hand in hand, and that’s how he’s always been.”
I don’t know why his explanation troubles me. I feel as if I want to force Ash to feel something, anything. He may be a stranger to me, but this want I feel for him is all so new, so strange to me.
“Why?” I close the distance between us, aware that I’m delving into their lives. Even though I’ve seen their family photos, seeing them when they were young, there is so much more to learn about them both. This house holds secrets, too; I can feel it.
“Ash has gone through something I’ll never understand. He took my father’s death harder than I did,” Ember tells me, lifting a tumbler which he swirls around before meeting my gaze. “Not to say, I didn’t love my father, but he was a difficult man.”
“And you were closer to your mother?”
Ember offers a solemn smile. “She wasn’t well when we were younger, and by the time we were about ten, we lost her. My father was never quite the same after that.”
“That’s understandable. When you love someone and lose them, I mean . . .”
He rises before stalking closer to me, making my heartbeat speed up. He takes my hand in his as he leads me through the house without a word. We make our way down the hallways until we reach the back of the house. We stop outside a dark
wooden door, and after Ember pushes it open, he steps aside, allowing me to enter the space.
Intrigue and suspense grip me in their hold, and as much as I should tell him I want to go home, I can’t help but want to also be here and figure out what’s going on.
Even in the dimly lit room, I can smell the paint and the chemicals used to clean the brushes. Ember flicks the light on, and I’m met with walls of canvasses of color screaming at me from every corner of the room.
Strolling through the studio, I take in each art piece. The brushstrokes are wild, scattered splotches of color along with strokes of hues that can only be described as violent and stormy.
“These are incredible,” I murmur, wanting to reach out and touch them. I twine my fingers from my left hand in my right, to stop myself.
“When my father died, I spent my nights in here. I got lost in the smell of paint because it was the only thing that kept me sane.” Sadness drips from his every word. His voice is heavy with emotion, and I find myself drawn to him.
But why do I feel like that?
I’ve lived through the same agony, and no words can make it better. Not even now, when I feel like I have a chance. I’m still lost, and there’s nothing that will ever heal the pain in my chest.
“I wish I could tell you the heartache lessens,” I say, not meeting his gaze. But instead, I focus on the paintings on the wall. One catches my attention. It’s a dark canvas, black and gray, but in the center are three beautiful rosebuds. The tips of their petals are charred, and they’ve lost their color.
The center flower is larger than the other two. I can’t stop my fingertips from brushing over the rose. I feel the electricity shoot through me the moment I come into contact with the paint as if it’s alive. “This one . . .”
“I painted that not long after our father passed away,” he tells me, and I notice how close he is. The warmth of his body is against my back, and as if the painting is radiating its own heat, and I feel cocooned, nestled in the effortless emotion.