Page 22 of Double Take

I pour another glass of champagne and place it against my lips. Why not me? I look good in this dress. I’ll be wearing a mask. They don’t have to know it’s me. Why not proposition them and prove that I’m not just their office manager and that I can be a sexual woman who can please them?

No. That’s stupid. They don’t want you. They would’ve invited you if they did. They’re headed to the club despite kissing you. Despite sending you a message. Despite you inviting them over. They’ve made their intentions clear. They want to take care of you, not make love to you.

Assholes. I’m so tired of being someone’s afterthought.

I drink the rest of the champagne in one gulp as the lush black interior of the limo swims before my eyes.

Damn them. I’m moving on. There’s no reason to stay here. All I’m doing is making a fool of myself.

I’m not going to stick around and watch them date women that are nothing like me–attractive, with big tits, tiny waists, curvy hips, and ass, legs for days, and confidence. Yeah, no wonder they didn’t want to come over to my place and hang out with a frump mom and someone else’s kid.

The limo slows to a stop, and the door opens. “Here you go, Ma’am.” The man’s face is devoid of emotion even though I’m a barely dressed 22-year-old whose eyes are glassy, and he’s dropping me off at a sex club. Clearly, he’s seen some shit. I giggle and crawl out of the car, glad to be here rather than at home. I might as well enjoy myself before putting in my notice and moving to my next destination.

I hop out of the car. The mask. I slide back inside, snatch the black lace, feather, and ribbon-enhanced mask off the seat, and slip it over my face. It disguises my face from my forehead past my cheeks. Let the games begin.

Chapter Thirteen

Oliver

“We should come right out and say we want her. There’s no reason to hide it from her.” I snatch a glass of champagne off the white cloth-draped tray one of the waitresses is carrying on her way past us.

“What if she isn’t into one or both of us? It’s going to make working with her a tad difficult if we go all out, and then she turns us down.” Axel shoves his hands into the pockets of his Italian suit. “You saw the man we’re up against. I’m not saying he’s any match for us, but if she’s repulsed by our advances and runs, he’ll catch up with her before we get rid of him for good.”

“That’s not going to happen.” My jaw flexes as my fingers grip the glass. “He won’t. I don’t care if she hates our guts. We’ll finish things between her and that poser. She deserves a fresh start at life, whatever that is.”

“Yeah.” Axel swallows hard as anger passes over his face. Whether it’s our twin intuition or just seeing our own emotions on the same face, we don’t need to name a feeling. If he’s angry. I know it. And spending three days in California getting all the dirt we could unearth on Mario Garcia, I saw plenty of that emotion.

I chug the drink like it’s a beer and slap the glass onto a nearby table. The things we heard from people who know them made my stomach churn.

When the door opens and she walks into the room, my heart hurt. She’s stunning. The dress Sage selected shows off every beautiful curve, and line of her body and the fact she’s wearing the choker we chose for her sends a shiver down my spine.

Even though she has on her mask, I’d recognize her anywhere. I’ve memorized her features and the way she moves until she’s as much a part of my soul as my brother is.

“Fuck it. I’m telling her.”

Axel grabs my arm. “Watch what she does.”

“Why?”

Her eyes scan the room and stop on us. She doesn’t move as her eyes soak us in like we’re her last meal, and then she tips her chin out and keeps scanning the room.

“That’s what I wanted to see.”

“What?” I growl as she walks toward the bar where a handful of men wait. “You wanted to see her proposition another man? That isn’t going to fucking happen.” The need to claim her is rocking through me so fast and hard that I can’t breathe. There’s less than zero chance I’ll stand here and watch her make out with some other man. I don’t give a fuck what my brother wants.

“No.” He chuckles. “I wanted to see if she sought us out and whether she chose one of us over the other.”

“You’re an idiot. She can’t tell us apart from that distance. No one can with these leather masks on.” There are times like this when I want to throat-punch my brother.

“Yes, she can.” He smiles. “I’ll wager you for it.”

“What’s the wager?”

His eyes dance with laughter. “If she knows who’s who with our masks on. We drop the masks, and I get to taste her first.”

“Bite me.” I shove him backward and stalk toward her.

But with each step, I grow more confident that he’s right. The second she saw us, she stilled, and her skin flushed under the lights. Sure, it could be the champagne she drank, but I don’t believe that’s the reason.

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