The billionaire’s twins shared obsession

Episode2

The Morning After

“s**t. s**t, s**t, s**t!”

The words tumbled out of my mouth before my eyes were even fully open. I sat up so fast that the room turned around to 360. My head was banging, the consequences of drinking to stupor. I held my head, the pain was overwhelming.

I looked down at the bed, the white sheets were screaming at me, telling me exactly what I did.

Memories from the night before started hitting me instantly. The pole. The hallway. The man. The way he had looked at me. The way he had f****d me throughout the night. s**t.

I glanced to the side. He was there, face down against the pillows, one muscular arm draped across the space where I’d been lying. He looked like he was dead to the world, his breathing deep and steady.

My legs were literally shaking as I slid out of bed. I felt sore in places I hadn’t thought about in years. I couldn't believe it. I had actually slept with a stranger. I didn't even know his last name or first name, I didn't even know if maybe he was dangerous, absolutely nothing about him.

“Get it together, Amelia,” I whispered to myself, clutching the edge of the mattress.

I scrambled around the floor, finding my dress crumpled near the chair. I pulled it on, my fingers fumbling with the zipper. My skin felt sensitive, still tingling from his touch. I looked at the bedside table and saw a gold keycard sitting right there next to an empty glass.

“Thank you, Lord,” I breathed.

I grabbed the card, holding it in my hands, then reached for the small clutch bag I’d dropped by the door, and didn't look back. I didn't want to see him wake up, neither did I want him to notice me leaving. I just wanted to disappear from this place.

I used the key card and opened the door quietly, checked the hallway, and then I took off. I didn't run—that would draw attention—but I walked as fast as my shaking legs would allow. By the time I hit the street and felt the cool morning air, I felt like I could finally breathe again.

I pulled my phone out of my bag. The screen lit up and nearly blinded me.

42 Missed Calls. 15 Text Messages.

Most were from Chloe.

Where are you?

Amelia, if you’re dead I’m going to kill you.

I’m leaving the club. Call me or I'll call the police.

“She is going to murder me,” I groaned, rubbing my temples.

I stood on the curb and raised my hand. A yellow cab pulled up almost instantly. I slid into the backseat, the smell of old air freshener and leather making my stomach do a nervous flip. Just as I was about to call Chloe back, a new message popped up. It wasn't from her.

It was from my mother.

Amelia, please tell me you’re awake. You need to come to breakfast at Sant Ambroeus ASAP. Arthur wants us to meet the rest of the family. No excuses. Wear something nice!

I let out a long, shaky sigh and leaned my head against the cold window. I had a massive hangover, I smelled like a club, and now I had to go play "happy family" with a billionaire.

“Change of plans,” I told the driver. “Can we stop at an apartment in Brooklyn first? I’ll pay extra if you wait five minutes for me to change.”

The driver grunted okay.

I made it home in record time. As I was fumbling with my front door, I finally called Chloe.

“Amelia Vance! You better have a very good reason for disappearing!” Chloe’s voice blasted through the speaker.

“Chloe, please, don’t be mad,” I pleaded, pinning the phone between my shoulder and ear as I kicked off my heels. “Something came up. I’m okay, I promise. I will tell you everything later, every single detail, but I have to get ready right now. My mom is losing her mind. I have to go meet her soon-to-be husband and his family for breakfast.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Is he hot?”

“The husband? He’s like sixty, Chloe.”

“No, the family! Whatever. Go. But you’re buying the drinks next time.”

“Deal. Love you!”

I hung up and sprinted to the bathroom. I took the fastest shower of my life, scrubbing the scent of the stranger off my skin, though the memory of him wouldn't wash away so easily. I threw on a simple, pale blue sun dress. This was my usual look not last night. I touched up my makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes and ran back out to the waiting cab.

I climbed inside, not thinking about anything that conspired between me and that stranger, I slapped my cheeks immediately.

The driver turned back to look at me if I was okay.

I just nodded my head, ‘’sorry,” I mumbled out the words. I need to be focused and think about my careless actions later.

The drive down to the restaurant lasted for 30 minutes. I came down from the cab and walked inside immediately.

The restaurant was one of those places you know you don't belong in. It was all white tablecloths and people wearing watches that cost more than my college tuition.

I saw my mother sitting at a large table in the corner. She looked beautiful, glowing in a way I hadn't seen in years. Beside her was Arthur Thorne. He was a tall, silver-haired man with a kind smile that didn't quite match the "ruthless head of company" reputation he had.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I said as I reached the table, breathless.

Arthur stood up and pulled out a chair for me. “No need to apologize, Amelia. It’s a pleasure to finally see you again. Actually, you’re not the last ones. My sons haven't arrived yet.”

I froze mid-sit. “Sons? Plural?”

My mother gave me a look that was half-apology, half-warning. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I might have forgotten to mention that Arthur has two older twin boys. They’re very busy with the company.”

Who forgets such a thing, sons? Like two boys?

She reached under the table and squeezed my hand, her eyes telling me to be on my best behavior. I forced a smile and took a sip of water, trying to ignore the way my stomach was churning.

“They should be here any second,” Arthur said, checking his watch. “They usually travel together. They’re very close.”

We chatted for a few minutes about the wedding plans and the house in the Hamptons. I tried to focus, but the hangover was making it hard to keep my eyes open.

Then, the front door of the restaurant opened.

The energy in the room seemed to shift. I didn't even have to look up to feel it. It was that same heavy, magnetic pull I had felt in the club. My heart started to thud against my ribs.

“Ah, yes,” Arthur said, brightening up. “Welcome. Dimitri, you took so long. I assume Ivan did a good job of picking you up?”

I felt the blood drain from my face. My hands started to shake under the table. Slowly, like I was moving through a nightmare, I lifted my head.

There were two of them.

Identical. Tall, built, and wearing suits that probably cost a year of my rent.

But it was the one on the left that made the world stop. It was him. The man from the suite. The man who had told me to spread my legs.

“s**t,” I whispered, the word slipping out before I could stop it.

The man—Dimitri—locked eyes with me. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look shocked. He just stood there, looking at me with those dark, predatory eyes.

A slow, wicked smirk spread across his face.

“Good morning, dear,” he said. “I see you found your way.”