Page 55 of Twins for the Mafia Heir

Piers shakes his head. “Dying. Probably any day now, though she acts like she isn’t,” he says ruefully.

I’m too tired to offer more elegant condolences than, “I’m sorry, Piers.” I put a hand on Raleigh’s shoulder, meaning to lead her out of the room, then remember myself. “Oh, Piers. This is Raleigh. My- wife.”

Piers’s mouth falls open again, and I move on swiftly enough that he can’t ask me anything upsetting. “Raleigh, this is Piers Warwick- the true heir of the Warwick family.”

Raleigh, Sidony, and I sleep past noon in a crumpled pile on a fold-out bed with no sheets, coverlet, or pillows- and it might just be the best rest I’ve had all year.

By two p.m., I drag myself creaking out of bed, feeling vaguely ill and dizzy. I’d kill several men for a single shot of espresso at this moment. Sidony is gone, but I can hear her bright voice from the kitchen, so my panic lasts only a second. Raleigh’s still dead asleep, sprawled over the middle of the mattress with her skirt hiked all the way up her pale legs.

I’d be happy to let her sleep on, but she probably needs coffee and food as much as I do. I sit back down on the edge of the mattress, leaning over to brush sticky hair off her forehead.

She jerks awake, almost tumbling off the mattress before I catch her by the upper arms. Her breath is racing, her eyes wide with fear, her skin clammy. I can see that it takes her a few blinks to remember where she is. And when she sees me, her whole body immediately relaxes.

“We made it,” she sighs.

I move more sweaty hair off her forehead and tuck it behind her ear. “We did,” I say softly. “At four a.m.. I thought you were awake when we walked in, but clearly not.”

Raleigh shakes her head, then pauses. “Wait, I think I remember… Did you… introduce me to someone last night?” I nod, and the memory sparks in her eyes. “Piers,” she says wonderingly. “You really did let him escape.”

I smile wryly. “I did. He was my friend. I couldn’t betray him, even if Fantasia wanted me to.”

Raleigh smiles up at me, the softest, must unguarded expression she’s ever shown me. I’m stunned by the tenderness of it.

If I can, I want to make her smile like this every day.

“You’re a good man, Achilles,” she says simply. “I feel like you don’t take nearly enough credit for that, but you are.”

I… can’t imagine what’s inspired her to say that. I was only protecting someone I saw as my family, a thing I’ve always done. To be praised for that seems unnecessary.

Just the same, I can’t deny the way my chest clenches at her words. “Thank you, Raleigh,” I manage.

I can’t stop touching her hair, or her arms, or her face. We all made it here, and Raleigh was an integral part of that. I’m dying to kiss her until she’s fully awake- and maybe move on to even better things- but there are people waiting for explanations outside the door to our room, and we should both be eating something by now. I brush my knuckles against her unbruised cheek one last time, and Raleigh leans into that touch.

The warmth and softness of her skin almost destroys my resolve.

“Let’s go get some breakfast,” I say, more for my sake than hers. “Well, lunch at this point.”

Raleigh flushes, maybe reading that lunch isn’t really what I’m hungry for right now. But she nods and rolls off the mattress. I follow her out of the den, and am immediately enveloped by the smell of pancakes and bacon.

In the living room directly in front of us, an aging woman sleeps in an armchair in front of a TV. A Scottish weatherman trades jokes with his fellow reporters on the likelihood of snow before Christmas. To our right, Piers is at the stove dolling out pancakes onto plates, while Sidony sits at his feet playing with- to my horror- what looks like an enormousraccoon.

“SIDONY,” I bark, startling everyone in the house- except the old woman who doesn’t even stir. “Get away from that-”

The mangy creature dashes away, and I realize it’s actually an obese cat in desperate need of a trim. I let out a sigh of relief, and immediately pull Sidony into my arms when she comes running.

“I’m very sorry, dove,” I tell her, giving her her three forehead kisses. “I thought your uncle Piers had brought another diseased monster into the house.”

“Have a heart, Achilles,” Piers protests. “That badger I took into Wesley Hall was tame as a kitten. It even let me feed it my veal.”

“It would’ve fed on you next if I didn’t throw it out,” I say stiffly. I want to remind him he’d only brought it into the house to impress a ten year old Fantasia, but the reminder of my sister sours my mood instantly. Perhaps it does for Piers as well, because he quickly changes the subject and turns to Raleigh.

“Raleigh, was it? You were pretty tired last night so I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t remember, but I’m Piers.”

“Piers Warwick,” Raleigh says pointedly, holding out her hand for him to shake. “It’d be hard to forget you.”

He flashes his crooked grin. “And you, RaleighAshwood.” He looks between the two of us, red eyebrows rising. “How and when did that happen?”

The sound of my last name attached to Raleigh’s makes me suddenly, viciously regretful that I didn’t keep her in the den for several minutes longer. It also reminds me of the small package still tucked into a pocket of my suit jacket.

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