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A knock at the window startles us both, and she tries to pull away as I hold her close. Looking up, I smile at the familiar face. “Hey, come on in,” I call.
Loosening my hold on Penelope, I turn her so her back is against my chest and she can look at our guest.
“Izzy,” Fitzy gasps, his face going pale.
“No,” I say as I feel my Princess go rigid in my arms. “No, Fitzy, this is Penelope.”
16
PENELOPE
“Oh my god,” the man says, his eyes wide as he takes me in. “You really are identical, but not at the same time.”
“Penelope, this is Fitzwilliam Van De Burg,” Hawthorn says. “Fitzy, this is Penelope Rhodes.”
“It is lovely to meet you, Penelope, I apologize for the confusion,” the man says, walking forward and pushing his hand out for me to shake.
I take it, and he squeezes lightly, almost affectionately, which is surprising. Most of the people’s hands I’ve had to shake in the past seem to enjoy squeezing so hard it hurts, like they’re trying to make an impression literally by creating an indent in my hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Van De Burg.”
“Please, call me Fitzy,” he says jovially before looking up at Hawthorn and scowling. “Why didn’t you tell me the clothes you wanted were for Izzy’s sister?”
“I can’t believe you thought I’d be hugging Izzy while I was naked,” Hawthorn says with a laugh.
“Well,” Fitzy says, clearing his throat.
My eyes widen as I remember that I’m only wearing Hawthorn’s shirt. Oh my god, Hawthorn is naked, and I’m just in his shirt. My hair is a bird’s nest, I probably smell like sweat and orgasms, and it literally couldn’t be any more obvious that we just had sex. “I should go.” I cringe, refusing to look at anything but the floor as I point roughly in the direction of the bedroom.
Chuckling softly, Hawthorn turns me to face him again. “Go shower, and I’ll make dinner,” he says softly, tipping my chin up and leaning down to press a gentle kiss against my lips while my cheeks burn red with embarrassment.
“I should call a cab,” I argue.
His lips press into a firm line, and his eyes narrow. “Go take a shower, Penelope,” he orders in that tone I just can’t seem to be able to disobey. “Then we can eat before Fitzy helps you with some clothes.”
As soon as he releases me, I glance quickly at Fitzy, then dart away, shutting and locking the bathroom door the moment I’m safely inside. My heart is racing, and my head is spinning with everything that’s happened in the last couple of hours. I’m pretty sure Hawthorn told me he likes me, or maybe he only likes me when we’re having sex?
Honestly, I’m not sure, and I’m not sure why I’m okay with that. Maybe it’s that I think I like him too. Who am I kidding? I know I like him. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t keep letting him invade my life the way he is.
Without my parents, I’m floundering, but Hawthorn grounds me. He tells me what he needs, what he expects, and I need those rules. I need that guidance, because when I’m doing what he tells me, I feel calm and safe.
My hands are shaking as I turn the shower on. They shake the whole time that I wash, leaving my hair smelling of Hawthorn’s shampoo. Once I’m clean and have stayed in here as long as I can, I carefully unlock the bathroom door and creep into his bedroom, wrapped only in a towel. I didn’t hear him, but he must have come into the bedroom while I was in the bathroom, because there’s a white button-down shirt laid out on the bed for me to wear. Like the one I had on earlier, this one is massive, covering me almost to my knees, the sleeves hanging past the ends of my fingers. But despite being covered, I’m still all too aware that I’m naked beneath it, the only underwear I own is still in the dresser at the hotel.
Grabbing the hairbrush Hawthorn left on the bed, I brush my hair, dragging the tangles free, and then quickly twist it into a braid that hangs over my shoulder.
Once I’m as ready as I can be and without any more excuses to hide in here, I sink down onto the edge of the bed and seriously consider calling a cab. Running away would be the sensible option, but I know I won’t because I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave him, even though I know I should.
His words earlier completely disarmed me, and now I’m caught, lost in his web, helpless, but a willing victim.
17
HAWTHORN
Both Fitzy and I stay silent until we hear the shower turn on.
“What the hell are you playing at?” Fitzy hisses.
“What do you mean?” I ask, playing stupid, like I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“That,” he hisses, pointing in the direction of the bedroom, “is Izzy’s sister. Her evil”—he emphasizes the word—“twin sister.”
