Page 237 of Heresy

He’s been through something, that’s for sure. But I can guess pretty easily, he’s good at hiding it.

“Sorry about that.”

He has a smooth voice. Deep. The kind that whispers to you in fantasies and in the midnight hours of sleep.

But that’s all he says before walking away to round the large base of the grand staircase.

I follow after him almost mindlessly, my fascination a touch too much to control.

He turns, but when I thought he would take the first step to ascend the stairs, he stops and looks up. I follow the direction of his eyes and damn near fall over with shock.

There’s two of him.

Twins.

So perfectly identical that one could easily replace the other.

The universe has jokes, it seems.

And it’s on all the poor women of this world who happen to encounter these two.

Much like the redhead now standing in the center of the staircase. She’s glancing between them as if trapped … or deciding something.

Poor girl is about to become one of the many women I have no doubt have been torn up and turned upside down by twins that look like that.

I refuse to be one of them. Men like that are the type to rip your heart out with their teeth while smiling to do so. I’ve seen many tough women fall for those types through the years, and what should have been a fun night turned into months of those poor women chasing after a relationship that would never happen.

But twins?

Good fucking luck.

They’re pretty to look at but have danger written all over them.

Rather than becoming the next victim, I do the intelligent thing and head toward the exterior doors.

The backyard is impossibly beautiful. It almost puts to shame the interior of the mansion. I admire the lights strung through the stately tree branches and the winding path that leads you past fancy white tents with their crystal accouterments.

A pretty penny was spent on this party and it saddens me to think what just a fraction of the cost could do for my life.

I wasn’t lucky enough to be born with a silver spoon in my mouth like these folks. At best I had a used plastic spork my mother managed to swipe from a crusty fast food place.

It wasn’t her fault, though. Something was always wrong with my mom, I’ve just never figured out what.

Walking past a server, I place my empty champagne glass on her tray and take a full one. I have work tonight, and shouldn’t be drinking, but then again shaking your ass in a cage doesn’t require strict sobriety.

I’ve barely made it fifty feet into the backyard when from inside the house a woman yells, “Oh my god, Tanner! Give it to me harder!”

Spinning in place, I gawk at the mansion like everyone around me to see a woman run out in an ombré gown, another gorgeous male specimen running after her.

I remember seeing them when Brinley I first pulled up, the man helping the woman from the car. Now, with the way she’s storming off, I’m wondering if she just caught him banging another woman in the hall.

Maybe that’s what all the yelling was about.

Who the hell knows, but this party just got a lot more interesting. I never would have guessed the snooty actually know how to have a good time.

Perked up by the fact that everybody is whispering about something other than me after that particular show, I meander through the crowd, helping myself to finger foods and hors d’oeuvres. It saves me money on a quick dinner before work, and those I like the best, I sneak some extras into a napkin.

Twenty minutes pass as I scan the crowd and walk a slow, hapless path. Nothing of much interest is out here, none of the other guests as gorgeous as the one I’d seen inside.

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