Page 37 of Knot His Reality

When Reginald clears his throat, I jerk my head around to find him full-out laughing at me. I bare my teeth at him as I run my hands down the tux I’m still being forced to wear. While I appreciate Evangeline’s designs, I really still don’t want to be wearing it.

I snicker as I imagine myself meeting twenty suitors in a pair of sweats and a graphic tee. I’m pretty sure Bree and Tessa would both have a conniption.

I’m still grinning when the next limo pulls into the driveway before coming to a stop in front of me. The door swings open to reveal a man who’s maybe three or four inches taller than me. His jawline is covered in stubble as if he hasn’t shaved in a day or two, and it’s fucking hot as hell. His golden brown hair is pulled off his gorgeous face.

He steps aside and a second man exits—who looks just like the first man.

Twins?

Hell yes!

The only difference between the two men seems to be their hair. The lengths are the same, and maybe even the cut, but I can’t tell when one of them has it pulled back. The second man wears his loose. He runs his hand through it, brushing it away from his face, and I scent my perfume in the air.

As if my dick trying to punch its way out of my pants and the massive amounts of slick spilling from me weren’t signs of how attractive I find the two of them, my body wants to make sure that everyone in the vicinity is just as aware.

The first man smirks, slapping his brother on the shoulder as he nods in my direction. They saunter over, bodies moving almost as one. Whiskey and bourbon fill my nose as they reach me, too intertwined with each other beneath the scent blockers that I can’t separate them from one another. I think one of them is an alpha and the other a beta, but I’m not even sure of that.

The smirk hasn’t left the first man’s face, while the second man’s face remains impassive.

“Hello, omega,” the second man says, a Russian accent making his words roll over my body as if they were his hands. “My name is Alexei Ivanov, and my twin, Nikolai. I am beta, and he is alpha. We came from Russia when we were twenty.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Alexei. Nikolai. How long have you been in America?”

Alexei glances at his twin, rolling his eyes when the other man remains silent. “We are thirty-four, so fourteen years, yes?”

I love his accent, and I want to hear more of it, but I also want to hear Nikolai’s.

“Nikolai, what do you do for work?”

“Cybersecurity,” Nikolai says but offers nothing else.

Alexei sighs. “You will forgive my brother. He is not one for talking. He prefers much more being the broody, silent one—leaves me to be the one to speak for us.”

I laugh. “I guess I should be grateful he spoke at all, then.”

“Yes. I am sure he will speak more as time goes by, but for now, I tell you about us. How would you like to know?”

“What brought you to America? Why cybersecurity? What do you like to do in your free time?” I pause. “Honestly, I’d love to hear anything you want to tell me. I could listen to your accent all day.”

Alexei throws his head back as he laughs. “Not often people enjoy our accent. I am pleased. We were recruited by American company when they caught us hacking into places we should not. We are lucky they bring us here and have us work.”

“Hacking? Do I even want to know what you were hacking into?”

He shakes his head slowly. “I cannot tell you, even if you guessed. There is much we cannot speak of. The owner of the company has no children. He trains us to take over when he retires. We are lucky ones. That is why cybersecurity. How is that saying? It fell into our laps, yes? We love it.”

“It’s always best when you love what you do. So when you’re not doing cybersecurity things—I’m sorry, I don’t even know really what that means—what else do you do?” It’s not that I haven’t heard the term cybersecurity before, I just don’t know what all it encompasses. It’s never been something I’ve ever had to deal with.

“I will teach you about cybersecurity one day,” he promises with a grin. “We still do hacking, but now we get paid. Free time is spent reading for me and painting for Nikolai. He is much talented. His pieces make you feel.”

Nikolai grunts. “It is that I feel that is painted.”

Alexei waves him off. “Yes, yes, brother. I know. I know. You paint your feelings. That does not mean others do not feel when they look. He is embarrassed when I speak of his painting. Not of the paintings themselves, but when I brag. He does not approve.”

“That is not it—“

“Nyet,brother. You wish not speak, so I speak. You do not get to choose words I use.“ Alexei grins. “This is punishment for making me the talker. I say what I want, and he has no choice.”

Laughing, I glance at Nikolai. Annoyance is written on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest.

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