Page 2 of The Prince's Secret Twins

And then there was the velvet chair—an unlikely survivor amidst the wreckage of Tila's bedroom. Tila had told Joran the story about how she’d rescued it from the side of the road, a Cinderella story in the world of furniture. With her DIY skills on full display, she had transformed it from rags to riches, albeitwith a few rough edges still lingering in the form of unfinished upholstery hidden on the back of the chair. But Tila had laughed off any criticism, her eyes sparkling with pride and amusement at her own handiwork. After all, who needed perfection when one had personality?

Laying her gently down on the bed, Joran plucked one of the quilts from the tangled mess on the floor and carefully laid it over her, tucking her bare feet tenderly under the blanket and kissing her forehead.

Once he’d straightened up, Joran looked down at Tila, noting how pale she was. She sighed in her sleep, then tucked her small hands under her cheek.

Joran stared at her for a long moment, remembering the way she’d slept with that cheek against his shoulder so many nights in the past.

Well, sleeping was a bit of a stretch. She’d rested in between bouts of making love with him. They’d been voracious for each other from the beginning and that need had never waned. In fact, the better he’d gotten to know Tila, the more his desire had grown.

Stepping out of the bedroom, he pulled the door nearly closed, then he went in search of answers.

Before Joran could take another step, a faint, unfamiliar sound emanated from the second bedroom, sending a shiver of alarm down his spine. He scanned the room, his mind racing to identify the source of the noise. Could there be an intruder? The thought ignited a surge of adrenaline, heightening his senses and sharpening his focus.

Instinctively, he reached for the pistol holstered at his side, tensing in anticipation. He contemplated calling for his guards, but the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veinsdrowned out any rational thought. He relished the familiar thrill of danger, the electrifying sensation of being on high alert. It was a feeling he had sorely missed—the surge of adrenaline, the heightened awareness, the exhilarating dance with danger.

Every fiber of his being was primed for action, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow, scanning for any sign of threat. In that moment, Joran was a predator, his instincts honed to a razor's edge, ready to confront whatever danger lurked in the darkness.

He heard the sound again. It was definitely coming from the second bedroom. Whoever was in there, the sounds didn’t seem…human. At least, those weren’t sounds that he’d ever heard from a human he’d ever met. It was more of a squeak or a squawk. A wild animal? Tila’s home had been her sanctuary and she’d worked hard to maintain the residence. But obviously her world had changed dramatically. The Tila he’d known would never let her home become this messy.

With stealthy precision, Joran approached the door to the second bedroom, each step a calculated maneuver in the shadowy game of cat and mouse. As he gently nudged the door open, his muscles tensed, poised for a potential battle. In that tense moment, he found himself teetering on the edge of anticipation, almost craving the rush of violence.

It was a familiar sensation, one he understood all too well. Joran was no stranger to the art of combat, adept at navigating the labyrinth of physical confrontation. In the face of danger, he found solace in the clarity of battle. Not that his bodyguards would allow it. Not anymore.

In a strange twist of fate, the prospect of a physical skirmish held a certain allure—a welcome distraction from the bewildering chaos of Tila's unexpectedly disheveled home andthe enigma of her distress. Amidst the clutter and confusion, the prospect of a straightforward brawl offered a brief respite, a temporary escape from the tangled web of emotions that had ensnared him.

With a nudge, the door swung open with eerie silence, revealing the dimly lit room cloaked in shadows. Joran's heart hammered against his ribs as he scanned the room, trying to pierce the darkness. But what he saw didn't quite compute—the room was furnished with not one, but two beds, a bizarre juxtaposition that added to the surreal horror unfolding before him. He struggled to reconcile the potential threat with the incongruous setting, a blend of fear and absurdity churning in his gut.

That’s when he heard it again—the strange squawk followed by a barely noticeable movement. His gaze dropped lower and there it was—a sight that nearly sent him stumbling backward in disbelief.

A tiny bundle squirmed in the crib, barely visible in the dim light. Joran blinked, trying to process what he was seeing. Holy hell, was that...a baby?!

The absurdity of the situation threatened to overwhelm him, a bizarre mix of horror and humor playing out in the cramped confines of Tila's bedroom. Here he was, a trained warrior, caught off guard by the most unexpected of adversaries—a squirming bundle of innocence amidst the chaos of the cruel, unforgiving world.

Joran stared at the tiny bundle in the crib, struggling to comprehend the surreal scene unfolding before him. Had that baby really made the sound? Or was there some other threat still hiding amidst the shadows? His grip tightened around hisfirearm in a futile attempt to regain control in the face of the inexplicable.

But as he scanned the room in a desperate bid to assess the threat, his gaze landed on the second crib. Within it was another baby, peacefully slumbering, oblivious to the world around them. The juxtaposition of the two infants—one awake and wiggling, the other asleep and serene—was both unsettling and strangely comical.

Joran stared. Two babies, seemingly conjured out of thin air, had materialized in Tila's house. It was like a twisted nightmare, one that he couldn't wake up from no matter how hard he pinched himself.

Glancing over his shoulder at the closed bedroom door, a realization dawned on him. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling into place. Tila wasn't just a victim of chaos—she was babysitting someone's kids for extra cash. The absurdity of it all threatened to tip him over the edge into hysterical laughter, but the horror of the moment kept him rooted in stunned silence.

Chapter 2

Joran glanced at Tila’s half closed door. Through the narrow opening, he saw she was still fast asleep. The dark circles under her eyes told him that she hadn’t been sleeping well.

Walking to her front door, he jerked it open and peered outside. He gestured to two of his guards, who immediately came forward.

“I need help,” he announced quietly.

Both men straightened, exchanging puzzled glances as they peered into the dimly lit interior of the house. "What's going on?" one of them ventured, his voice tinged with confusion.

Joran, still reeling from the baby revelation, couldn't resist the urge to blurt out the absurdity of the situation. "Babies," he declared, his voice colored with the solemnity of a seasoned commander facing down an imminent threat.

He marched back towards the second bedroom, expecting his guards to follow him. But to his irritation, he turned to find them still frozen in the doorway, their expressions a comical mix of disbelief and dread. It was as if he had just announced the impending arrival of a stampede of rabid monkeys.

"Get in here!" he hissed, attempting to inject some semblance of authority into his voice while still maintaining a hushed tone to avoid waking Tila.

But his orders fell on deaf ears—or rather, terrified ones. The guards exchanged hesitant glances, then shook their heads in unison. "Not a chance, Boss!" one of them protested, taking a cautious step backwards, followed by his equally reluctant companion.

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