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Thatcher Moretti still looks at me like his sole mission is to shield me and ground me and build a fortress of peace around me.
I can’t tell him this. I can’t say, Oh, Thatcher, I’d rather only fall mid-deep in love with you because I don’t want to need your love like water in the Sahara. Part of me longs to feel that un-reversible depth of emotion with him, but the other part resists completely.
“We’re still kerosene.” Flammable. Combustible. I smile. “Sounds disastrously right.”
“Has Tony ever made an unwanted pass at a girl before?” I ask. “No,” he says sternly. “…not as far as I know.” His red-hot gaze pins on the wall. “I would’ve already broken his hands if he did.”
Jane’s dad stands like he owns the world. Expensive slacks and navy-blue button-down, a Cartier watch on his wrist that probably costs more than my uncle’s row house. He has billion-dollar energy that screams I’m better than you.
I understand he’s no less deadly than the woman he married. The only difference is that Rose shows you her dagger, and he keeps his behind his back.
“Do you want to offer me a drink?” Connor asks, pulling my attention. “Water, lemonade, bourbon? You live here now, so I’m to assume you can act as a host.” Fuck all things to hell. I nod towards the fridge. “Would you like a drink?” I ask. “I can get whatever you want.” “Not right now. But I appreciate the offer, even delayed and obviously coerced.”
oh he is PLUCKED LOL
Banks Moretti. My identical twin, my soul and conscience, someone I couldn’t live without. The sun could be crashing down on the world, and Banks would be right by my side burning alive to push it back into the sky.
But while we were fake-dating and sneaking around, we found an indescribable solace together. Point-blank, I wanted to tear myself open for Jane. No matter how brutal and gut-wrenching.
I’m head-deep, un-fucking-believably in love with this girl, and I would do anything for her.
“Just for the trip, you pretend to be me, and I’ll be you.” He’s lost his damned mind. “No,” I say strictly. “Hell no.”
no way. the ole twin switcharoo
Do not fall into his lap like a bird without wings, Jane. You’re born from lions.
Love is a violent emotion. Full of fortitude and might, and I’m going to be destroyed under ours, aren’t I?
“You owe me nothing for what I did. If you’d rather not be touched, I’d rather not touch you, Jane.”
“What if I pull you at a million different speeds? What if I slow and speed and stop and speed and slow? Are you prepared to grow exhausted of me?” My eyes burn. Thatcher doesn’t recoil. “I’m prepared to be with you at every speed, and there’s no way you’ll exhaust me.” I arch my brows. “How can you be so sure?” He is all confidence and man. “Because I don’t tire that easily.”
“Fuck it.” He’s a breath from my lips. “We’re switching places.” “What?” I shake my head, utterly confused. “Me and my brother. I’ll explain everything.”
oh my
my boyfriend has a tattoo on his ass. SFO, namely Paul Donnelly, inked script on Thatcher recently, and I wasn’t present. It happened under the cloak of Omega Brotherhood and I just saw the result.
LOL love it
They didn’t write “hypocrite” on his butt like I thought they would. Like Thatcher said they could. Instead, SFO decided on something that “better fit” Thatcher. And so they tattooed the word, Cinderella.
How strange and wonderful it feels to be seen—but for the right reasons. Not maliciously or perversely but adoringly. Lovingly. Protectively. Carefully.
Thatcher looks only at me, and my heart swells. No man has ever made me feel like a rare beauty worthy of sacrifice. He’s never sought after my fame or fortune. He’s just sought after me.
“Murder with the Cobalt fam,” Donnelly says through a mouthful of cheesecake. “Those who slay together, stay together.”
First come the bodyguards. I count five. And then five famous faces bring up the rear. Charlie, Beckett, Eliot, Tom, and Ben. Every single one of my brothers. They’re all here, and they’re far too fixated on Thatcher like he’s tonight’s five-course meal.
oh they’re about to eat him alive
Eliot grins. “If it’s not, I’d be offended.” He unbuttons his expensive pea coat. If the God of War and hedonistic Dionysus birthed a child, they’d spit out my nineteen-year-old brother.
Beckett is a heartbreaker, I’ve come to realize.
How Eliot can summon tears out of cold-hearted eyes. How Beckett can make your awed gasp feel like the last breath you’ll take. How Ben can harness your empathy so you do the right thing. How Tom can wake the dead things buried inside you. How Audrey can bottle love and romance like it’s life’s greatest necessity. And Charlie—everyone thinks he has no soul but his is just the darkest, deepest of them all.
Among tabloids and fans, Xander Hale is considered the “prettiest” boy. Maximoff Hale is in a league of his own. And the Cobalt brothers—they’re cited as the “sexiest,” oozing some kind of ancient, sensual allure.
I wished I could listen to her talk while the sun rose and set. Every second. Every day.
“You’re blatantly hot and fit in the realm of Vikings and billboard jocks. I’m—” “Gorgeous,” I interjected.
“We’ve been through this. I have a strong love for myself, you know, but I recognize that classically, I’m not the world’s definition of beauty.” “You’re mine,”
What the fuck. I’m holding a trophy shaped like a snake. The plaque reads Master of Deception with the year engraved below.
damnnn they got him good bitch
“I don’t know anything about him, Jane.” “We’re about to fix that,” Charlie says smoothly. Beckett snuffs out his cigarette on an ashtray and then fans out a deck of blue cards on the table. Gold lions are hand-drawn on each one.
this is fucking crazy😭
Eat the hearts of many rabbits. Gut reaction, I almost laugh. “Real rabbit?” “One pound each,” Charlie says in reply.
the cobalts are not real like wtf😭
Before I even move, Ben tells his brothers, “How would you like it if I cracked your ribcage and tore out your heart?” Charlie rips open the last buttons of his white shirt. Bare chest and toned abs in view. “Go ahead.” Eliot unpockets a switchblade, twirls the knife, and stakes it on the wooden table near Ben.
Comms crackle, the signal distant. “Donnelly to SFO, I found the space babe.”
I can’t apologize for falling in love with her. I can’t call what happened a mistake. Gun to my head, I’d repeat every moment so I’d have the boldest, smartest girl next to me—a girl I shouldn’t have.
Farrow leans on a stall door. “See, I know what it’s like to be decked in the face for sleeping with a client.” I almost laugh. Yeah, I’m the one who punched him.
We return to the mats where the meeting is taking place, and the team quiets and zeroes in on my brother’s swollen mouth. Sinclair grimaces. “Which one of you shit-tickets hit him?” “I fell, sir,” Banks lies. SFO is smiling.
LMAO
But when people see me—truly see me and not just the twin that I am—it’s a rush. Like drinking the coldest ice water on a scorching summer day, and I feel that every moment I’m with Jane.
Donnelly inked every single one of Beckett’s tattoos, and all are flowers from roses to daisies to lilies and poppies, as homage to our mom and aunts.
Packing on my battle armor, I straighten up and channel a surge of confidence. I am a motherfucking lion. I am my mother’s daughter.
Donnelly whispers on comms. “The Rooster has chosen his flock. I repeat, the Rooster has chosen his flock.” I regret staying on the SFO line.
😭😭😭
“How many times have you used that line?” “It’s not a line.” He studies her in a quick sweep. “Believe me, you’d know if I was using a line on you.” Intrigue sparks her brown eyes. “Why is that?” “Because you’d already be in my bed.”
oh
“I will. You have fun with your fiancé.” He grimaces, crinkling his nose. “I won’t.” I laugh. Maximoff looks lovesick and Farrow isn’t even in the kitchen.
Charlie even asked genuine questions about catering, and I thought Maximoff’s smile would shatter the window. It’s almost like high school again, the three of us on good terms.
🥹🥹
“He said he’d go at whatever pace you set,” Moffy reminds me. “He’s here for the long haul, so if it takes you a millennium to blurt out what you need to, he might still be around.”
Farrow rolls his eyes. “You’re definitely cocky.” He has trouble taking his gaze off his fiancé. “I didn’t come over here for you, smartass.” “But you’re staying here for me,” Maximoff rebuts. Luna looks between them with such happiness.
Luna is so me
I sway to the beat, and I notice how Farrow looks absolutely and without a shadow of a doubt in love with his future husband.
MARROW4L
Tony sizes him up. “So you’d rather I switch details with Banks then?” He jabs a thumb to the bar. “I can go look after Maximoff for you.” Farrow glares. “Yeah, didn’t think so.” He rolls his eyes. “You talk like you’re twenty-feet tall, but you look microscopic. Just back up and leave Banks alone. Jane is safe.”
I FUCKING LOVE FARROW
“Let me give you some advice, Moretti. You should never let girls speak for you and definitely not fight your battles for you. Man the fuck up.” Anger. I’m burning alive in pure fury. “Women are better than men. Better fighters, better lovers—and the fact that you come from where I do and can say and believe shit that demeans women makes me sick.”
standing ovation
I think of my mom, my mom’s wife, my aunts, my grandma, and I wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for a twelve-year-old girl who left Italy with no one and came to America with nothing. Brave. Bold. Strong women rule my world, and I love them.
