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She strangled my shaft, thrumming through her tensed thigh muscles as she came. “You’re my king,” she whispered across my damp shoulder. Closing my eyes, I took two more strokes before I finished.

Sammy was still fluttering with aftershocks, the sensation glorious.

I wanted to lie in the sheets, I really did. This pocket was ours, even if it led to nowhere.Outside is freedom. She’s finally been granted it.How insane to smile over being given back your basic rights.

Her stomach grumbled—her laugh following right after. “Come on,” she said, sitting up. “Brunch sounds amazing right now.”

Resisting my desire to yank her into the shower and take her again, I let her clean up in peace. When we were changed into our clothes, I walked to the door. Sammy’s hand on my elbow froze me.

“Let me,” she said. Her fingers clutched the handle, testing it like she doubted it would open. When it did, her lips jerked at the corners. “It’s really not locked.”

It would have been awful if Costello hadn’t left it unlocked for us.

Together, we exited that room. I wondered what Sammy was thinking. Yes, we’d done this before, but that had been a temporary ruse.

This was ... real.

Everyone was gathered in the bright, granite kitchen. My mother was shoveling eggs onto a plate for Hawthorne. She spotted me, not noticing Sammy with my body blocking the way. “Kain! Could you take any longer? There’s hardly anything left.”

Piles and piles of food on the counter disagreed.

Swinging her way, I gave my mother an emphatic kiss on her cheek. “You’d make more if I asked.”

“Tch.” She swatted me away, but her pretend offense didn’t disguise her pleased smile. My mother was no pushover, but her heart was dedicated to her children. Even with enough servants on our estate to handle meals, she still loved helping with brunch.

The light in her eyes stilled; she’d spotted Sammy.

For a moment, the chatter and energy slowed to a halt. Everyone was either staring at the girl beside me or at my father where he was slumped comfortably at the kitchen table. Hawthorne twirled a biscuit between his fingers, eyeballing me with the unspoken question of, “What the fuck is she doing out of her cage?”

Ignoring all of them, I wrapped my arm around Sammy’s waist and nudged her toward the food. “Go on, grab something.”

Clearing her throat too loudly, she started stacking a plate high with bacon and tiny quiches. “Wow! This sure does look great! Doesn’t it?” Her eyes snapped to Costello; he said nothing, her grin went tighter. “Ha-ha. So good you can’t even speak, I get it.”

Realizing that nothing was going to remove the discomfort besides an answer, I looked pointedly at Maverick. “He said it’s fine. Everyone stop gawking already.”

At once, the air shifted. My mother placed a new pitcher of orange juice on the table. Francesca was grinning, her hands clapping softly at her chest. No one wanted to call my father out for the insane move he’d pulled, but we were all thinking how good it was for it to be over with.

How could any of us sleep well knowing we had a prisoner in our home?

Sammy sat down next to Francesca, reaching for the carafe of coffee. Frannie gave her a small shove, then another, until finally Sammy laughed. “Okay, yes, I noticed you. Hi there.”

“Gawd, I’m just happy to see you up here eating with us!” Grasping her in a quick hug, my twin bent in, whispering into Sammy’s ear. They both laughed, and when Sammy looked my way, her green eyes lit up like jewels.

Passing Costello, I gave him a gentle shove. His half smile was as good as a toothy grin for the serious man. Dropping beside Sammy, I leaned close to kiss her on the cheek. Hawthorne pointed his fork. “None of that while I’m eating.”

I ignored him, too busy enjoying how red Sammy was getting.

Let everyone roll their eyes at me,I thought, my cock still half-hard from fucking Sammy minutes ago.I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks.

Everything was as close to perfect as it could possibly get.

Juice spilled over the table, soaking the patterned cloth.

“Frannie!” My mother gasped, mopping at it in a panic. “Be careful! This will stain and youknowhow hard it is to ...” She trailed off, her eyes moving to where my sister’s were.

Where everyone’s were.

The woman in the archway was tall like my father, curvy like my mother. She was pale snow and midnight eyes, a smile that could go on for days, and—I knew from experience—a tongue that could cut you apart if you tried to mess with her.