The billionaire’s twins shared obsession

The Wrong Turn ​“Go, Amelia! Get it, girl!” ​I heard Chloe’s voice over the roar of the music. She was somewhere below me, waving a drink in the air. I realized then that I was actually on the stage. My hands were gripped around a pole, and I was swaying my hips in a way that would have made me die of embarrassment if I were sober. ​But tonight, I wasn't the shy artist who hid in the back of the gallery. I was someone else in this club. ​I laughed, the sound lost in the music, and spun around the pole. My head spun even faster. For a second, the crowd blurred into a sea of faces, but my eyes locked onto one spot in the VIP balcony. There was a man sitting there, he blended with the shadows. I couldn't see his face, but I could feel his eyes boring holes into me. It was so obvious, it felt like he was already feeling me up with even moving a finger. His stare made me nervous for a second, who looks at someone like that. ​“I need… I need the bathroom,” I mumbled to no one in particular. ​I slid down the pole, nearly tripping over my own feet. Chloe caught my arm, her face flushed and happy. ​“You’re on fire tonight!” she yelled into my ear. ​“Restroom,” I said, pointing vaguely toward the back. “Be right back.” ​“Don’t get lost!” she joked, turning back to the dance floor. ​I stumbled away from the noise. The deeper I went into the club, the more the lights dimmed. I saw a sign for the restrooms and followed the arrow, but my brain was working in slow motion. I turned a corner, then another, pushing through a set of large curtains. ​Suddenly, the music muffled. The air got cooler. ​I wasn't in a hallway with bathrooms. I was in a long corridor lined with private gold coloured door. It was so quiet, everything was screaming luxury in every angle. ​“Oops,” I giggled, leaning against the wall for support. My reflection in a gold-framed mirror looked back at me—hair messy, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. “Amelia, you are officially a mess. Where are the toilets?” ​I turned around to go back the way I came, but I ran straight into something hard. For a second I actually thought it was maybe a wall from nowhere, but I looked up and it was indeed a person, I had hit his chest. ​“Oh! Sorry,” I stammered, looking down at a pair of very expensive-looking black shoes. “I’m so sorry, I lost my way. Just trying to find the… you know.” ​I tried to step to the right to pass him. He stepped to the right, blocking me. ​I tried the left. He moved left. ​I huffed a little, a drunken spark of annoyance hitting me. I looked up to tell him to move, and the words died in my throat. ​It was him. The man from the balcony. ​Up close, he was terrifyingly handsome. He had beautiful features and eyes that looked like they could see right through my skin. He didn't look like a guy out for a fun night. He looked like he owned the building and every single thing in this city, he looked f*****g rich. ​“You’re the one,” I whispered, the realization hitting my foggy brain. “From the balcony. You were watching me.” ​He didn't say anything at first. He just stared at me, his presence filling the narrow hallway until I felt like I was getting choked up in his presence. Then, he reached out. His hand moved slowly, almost gently, until his fingers wrapped around the back of my neck. ​He pulled me forward, forcing me to step into his space. His skin was warm, and his grip was firm. ​“Finalmente ti ho trovata,” he rasped. ​His voice was like deep velvet. I didn't understand the words, but the way he said them made my stomach flip. ​“I… I don’t know what that means,” I breathed. My heart was beating hard, his presence was suffocating me so badly. ​He tilted his head, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just behind my ear. He leaned down, bringing his face inches from mine. I could smell alcohol and a bit of mint. The eye contact was intense—so intense that I forgot how to breathe. ​“It means,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke, “that I finally have you.” ​A shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. “You don’t even know me. We’re strangers.” ​A dark smirk played on his lips. It wasn't a nice smile, it was creepy and held so many intentions towards it that I fear I will accept, wholeheartedly. ​“I want you,” he said, his voice dropping lower than before. He moved his other hand to my waist, pulling my hips closer to him. I could feel the hard line of his body through my thin dress. “Do you feel this, Amelia?” ​My breath hitched. “How do you know my name?” ​“I know everything I need to know.” ​He didn't give me a chance to argue. He leaned in and captured my lips with his. ​My breath hitched immediately, he sucked in my mouth, not giving me time to react, he easily dominated the kiss, pulling at my under lips with each stroke, teasing me. I should have pushed him away or run back to Chloe but the alcohol in my system and the desires I had suppressed just came out. I groaned into his mouth, my hands flying up to grip his shoulders. I was so incredibly turned on it was embarrassing. I wanted more. I wanted everything he was offering. ​He pulled back just an inch, his eyes dark with a kind of heat that will ruin me. He looked at me, making sure I was still with him, still wanting it. I nodded frantically, unable to find my voice. ​He grabbed my hand and led me to the nearest door. He swiped a gold keycard, and the door clicked open. It was a private suite, dimly lit with a massive bed in the center. He didn't turn on the lights. He didn't need to. ​He pushed me toward the bed, his gaze never leaving mine. I fell back onto the soft bed, bouncing back, I looked up at him as he began to unbutton his shirt. His movements were slow, deliberate, and completely mesmerizing. ​I felt like I was in a dream. A very beautiful, very dangerous dream. ​He climbed onto the bed, hovering over me. He looked down at me, his face focused on mine intensely. He reached down, his fingers catching the hem of my dress. ​“Spread your legs, love,” he commanded. ​And I did.