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Maybe it’s something I’m not ready to face.
I take a deep breath in, knowing this feeling won’t be going away anytime soon.
I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know where to go from here.
All I can do is wait.
Chapter Thirteen
Nikolai
Iglance down at the phone again, wondering if we’ll ever get a response.
Though we did send the video of Chiara to Dario, we haven’t heard anything back yet, and it’s been almost seven days now. We did use an untraceable line, but there was always an option for him to leave a message.
I guess her brother didn’t quite get the memo.
My smirk deepens as I think about Chiara, my darling, feeling my cock beginning to react already.
She’s been with us for a few weeks now, and she’s starting to be a lot of fun.
Always open to exploring.
Allowing us to touch her everywhere.
She’s happy to kiss us too.
But when it comes to sex…that’s still a hard no.
She always shuts off when it gets to that, and Mikhail and I never push her for more.
Deep down inside, I know it won’t be long before she finally says yes, and we’re able to fuck that sweet Italian pussy of hers too.
I slide the phone into the drawer of my desk, closing it as I lock it, before I stand up.
Leaving my office, I walk through our house.
It’s quiet today.
I shake my head, choosing to ignore the question of why that may be as I head for the gym.
As soon as I step into the room, the smell of sweat, metal, and effort fills my lungs. I spot Mikhail’s figure, his body moving in a steady rhythm as he works through crunches. His naked chest rises and falls as the muscles in his stomach flex, the tattoos of snakes on his skin shifting with every breath he takes. It’s all a clear sign of the discipline and dedication my brother puts into everything he does.
Mikhail is always in control of his body.
He has to be.
Leaning against the doorframe, I watch my brother for a moment.
I know he feels me standing there, but he doesn’t acknowledge me right away. He doesn’t need to. We’ve always had the talent of speaking things through with just a flicker of our eyes.
It’s funny, really.
As twins, we share the same blood, the same face, the same history.
Yet when I look at my brother, I see somebody who can never be my exact copy, no matter how close we are in appearance. Yes, his face is a mirror of mine, but there’s something in the way that he carries himself that sets him apart.
Pushing myself off of the doorframe, I walk deeper into the room, my eyes tracking his every move.