Page 69 of Virgin's Stolen Nights with the Boss

He’d braced himself not to be able to recognise Joel—in truth, he hadn’t really recognised his brother since Seraphina had come into his life—but as he’d walked into that room there had been one faint whisper of relief beneath the grim horror.

His brother’s face had not been ruined after all.

‘It’s him.’ Elias had formally identified his twin for the record. ‘Can I have a moment...?’

‘Of course,’ someone had said. ‘We’re just...’

Outside?

Watching behind a screen?

Elias hadn’t cared.

It had been devastating.

Rearranging the sheet around his brother was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

He had not been able to protect his brother in life, but he had vowed to protect him in death.

‘You won’t tell anyone?’

Elias could almost hear his brother’s desperate voice as he replayed, as he had a million times, their final conversation.

‘Do you even have to ask? I never would...’

A vow between two brothers.

Twins.

Elias knew how proud of his marriage Joel had been. So he’d promised to take his secret to the grave. But sometimes he felt that in doing so he’d dug his own.

With Carmen he’d found himself opening up, and that would never do...

There was no one better at bland, unprovocative responses than Elias.

Sounds great.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ELIASHADSTAYEDthe hell away.

But by Friday he had no real choice but to go into the yard. It was the eve of the final and he didn’t want to leave all the preparations to Blake.

But he arrived to find the yard in perfect calm order.

‘Where’s Dom?’ he asked Blake when he returned from the empty stable.

‘In the arena with Carmen, the other dark horse,’ Blake said. ‘She told me she had your permission.’

‘Yep.’

‘What is she? Some sort of Spanish horse whisperer?’

‘Something like that.’ Elias shrugged. ‘Who knows with Carmen?’

He walked into the arena and took a seat in the stands. Dom was skipping like a kid on his way to school while Carmen stood in the centre. She had on the yard uniform but had made it her own, with the polo shirt knotted under her bust and her scruffy Cuban-heeled boots elongating her legs.

‘Do you want a go?’ she asked, smiling and looking up. ‘I can show you my technique.’

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