เข้าสู่ระบบNobody moved for what felt like forever.
Matteo kept walking toward us, slow and quiet, like he owned the air in the room. I stood there clutching the front of my half-undone dress, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. “Okay,” I managed, my voice shaking more than I wanted. “Somebody needs to explain what the hell is going on right now.” Nico let his hand drop from my waist. He walked to the side table like this was just another Tuesday, poured himself a drink, and sat on the edge of the bed. “Matteo,” he said calmly. “My twin. He lives here.” “He lives here,” I repeated, feeling stupid. “Yes.” “In this penthouse.” “Yes.” I looked at Matteo. He stopped a few feet away, arms crossed, staring at me with those same gray eyes — except his felt colder. Harder. The scar on his jaw and the tattoos climbing his neck made it obvious he wasn’t the polished one. He didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. Just watched me like I was an inconvenience that had walked into his house. “And the contract…” My voice cracked. “The contract was with you. Not… both of you.” Nico took a slow sip. “You married into the Black name. That covers both of us.” A broken sound escaped me... not quite a laugh. “That’s not what the papers said.” “Read them again.” My hands shook so badly I had to grip the front of my dress tighter. I had read every page three times. I was sure of it. But right now, with both of them looking at me, I wasn’t sure of anything. “The bond,” Matteo said. His voice was low and rough, like he didn’t use it much. I turned to him. “What bond?” He glanced at Nico, then back at me. “What you felt when I walked in. That’s the bond.” My stomach dropped. “What does that mean?” Nico set his glass down. “When we were kids we were in an accident. Something changed. We feel each other’s pain, strong emotions… physical sensations. It’s never worked with anyone else before.” “Until tonight,” I whispered. “Until you.” My legs gave out. I sank into the chair by the window. The city lights blurred below me. They could feel what I felt. Both of them. Every touch. Every reaction. Every time my body betrayed me. The heat from Nico’s kiss was still burning between my legs. If Matteo had felt even a fraction of that… My face burned with fresh shame. “Stop,” I whispered. “Stop what?” Nico asked. “Thinking about it.” I looked up at them, voice trembling. “So right now you can both feel… whatever I feel?” “Yes,” Nico said quietly. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. Tears were threatening again. I had signed a contract to save my family, not to become some shared toy for two men who would feel every single thing my body did. “I want to call my mom,” I said suddenly. Nico blinked. “It’s late.” “I don’t care.” I stood up, holding the dress against my chest like it could protect me. “I stood in that church. I signed your paper. I let you touch me. I want two minutes to make sure my mother is okay in the new facility. Then we can… continue whatever this is.” The twins looked at each other. A whole silent conversation passed between them. Nico pulled his phone from his jacket and handed it to me. I turned my back to them and dialed with shaking fingers. Mom answered, her voice tired but grateful. She told me the room was nice, the nurse was kind, Jake had eaten. I pressed my forehead to the cold glass and listened, fighting back tears the whole time. When I hung up, I stayed facing the window a moment longer. When I finally turned around, both of them were watching me. Nico stood up slowly and walked toward me. His hand found my waist again, turning me gently. His fingers slid the zipper the rest of the way down. The dress fell. Cool air hit my skin. I was standing there in nothing but a thin strapless bra and panties, sixty floors above the city, with two identical pairs of gray eyes on me. My face burned. My nipples tightened against the fabric. I felt myself getting wet again and hated my body more than I hated them. Nico stepped closer, voice low. “Let the rest go.” Matteo stayed in his chair, silent. But I felt him anyway... that ghost sensation ghosting over my breasts, between my legs, making my thighs press together. Nico’s mouth found my throat. And I realized, with a fresh wave of shame and terror, that this contract had just become a lot more complicated than I ever imagined. I was going to be shared. Completely. And there was nothing I could do about it tonight.The guests leave at eleven. I hear them from my room. Voices at the door, laughing, saying their goodbyes. Then the door closes and the penthouse goes quiet and I just sit on the edge of my bed in the cream dress and stare at the floor. No tears. I thought there'd be tears. There's just nothing. Like I used everything up at that table and came back empty. I take the pins out of my hair and drop them on the nightstand one by one. Shake my hair loose. That's the most like myself I've felt since this morning. I'm reaching for the zip at the back of my dress when the door opens. No knock. Never a knock. Nico stands in the doorway with his jacket gone and his collar open and his eyes on me across the room. I go still with my arm twisted behind my back still reaching for a zip I can't get to. He looks at me for a moment then crosses the room and stops behind me and unzips the dress in one smooth pull like he's done it a hundred times. Because he has. "You did well tonight," he says
He tells me at breakfast. Casual. Like he's telling me it might rain. "We have guests tonight. Eight o'clock. Help the staff set up." I look at him. He's already looking at his phone. "The tables, the flowers, the bar cart." He turns a page. "Cora will direct you." He leaves. His coffee cup is still on the counter. He didn't finish it. He just left it there for someone else to deal with. I look at my eggs. He has staff for this. Three people whose entire purpose in this penthouse is exactly what he just handed to me. He knows that. I know that. I pick up his cup and wash it myself because if I don't move my hands right now I'm going to sit here and feel things I can't afford to feel before nine in the morning. Cora doesn't look at me the whole time. That's the part that gets under my skin more than the instructions themselves. She holds her clipboard and tells me where things go and I can see it on her face — that specific discomfort of a person being made to participate in
I was dismissed like staff after service. I stand up. Smooth my dress. Walk toward the door. "Aurora." I stop. Turn. Nico is looking at me from across the room with something in his face I haven't seen before. Not warm exactly. More like the very beginning of a question he hasn't finished forming yet. "You did well," he says. I hold his gaze for exactly the right amount of time. "Thank you," I say. And walk out. I make it to my room before my hands start shaking. Not from fear. From the effort of holding everything still for ninety minutes while men talked around me like furniture and I sat there being the domestic picture and smiling and collecting and swallowing every single thing that wanted to come up. I sit on the edge of the bed and press my palms flat on my thighs and breathe. Three names. Two locations. One shipping route. One figure. I go over them in my head until they're locked. Then I go over them again. Then I sit with my hands pressed flat and think about my
I wake up before the sun. That's been happening since I got here. My body refuses to sleep past five, like some part of me decided that unconsciousness is too close to surrender and keeps pulling me back up before the penthouse gets a chance to feel normal. I lie in the big bed staring at the ceiling and listen to the city sixty floors below doing its early morning things and wait for my heartbeat to settle into something that feels less like running. It takes a while. Last night sits on my chest the way last nights have been sitting on my chest since the wedding. That specific weight that isn't quite shame and isn't quite grief but borrows from both of them. My body still warm from things I didn't fully choose and couldn't fully stop wanting and the two of them living somewhere in this penthouse right now sleeping the sleep of men who don't carry what happened the way I carry it. They don't have to. That's what bought means. It means they put it down when they're done and I'm st
Dinner at seven means I'm in my seat at six fifty-five.Not because I'm eager. Because being late means Nico's eyes sliding to me when I walk in with that flat quiet look that isn't anger yet but is the thing that lives right before it. I've learned his warning signs the way you learn weather. The sky doesn't have to be storming for you to know it's coming.I'm in a simple dress, hair down, no jewelry. I stopped wearing the red stone after the gala. Nobody has mentioned it.Matteo is already at the table when I come in. Black shirt, sleeves pushed up, looking at his phone with the focused stillness he brings to everything. He glances up when I sit down. Doesn't say anything. Goes back to his phone.The bond hums.It's always humming now. I've stopped being surprised by it and started just living alongside it like a sound in the walls you can't locate and can't turn off. Tonight it's running at a frequency that feels almost warm and I don't look at Matteo when I notice that.Nico arriv
I eat breakfast in the kitchen. Not because I want to. Because yesterday I made the mistake of walking into the dining room at eight in the morning, plate in hand, and Nico looked up from his coffee and said without even putting his phone down: “You eat in the kitchen or your room.” Then went back to scrolling like he hadn’t just said anything at all. I stood there for about three seconds. Then I turned around and went to the kitchen and ate standing at the counter because sitting felt too much like accepting it and I wasn’t ready to accept it yet. That was four days ago. I sit now. I’ve accepted it. The kitchen staff moves around me the way water moves around a rock. Not hostile. Just indifferent in that particular way of people who’ve been trained not to notice things. A woman named Rita who runs the morning shift has never once made eye contact with me. She puts my plate in front of me and my coffee beside it and goes back to whatever she was doing and that’s the whole of our r







