Chapter 108

[MIA]

Alex's good looks were effortless. His father could easily pass as his older brother. Alex was his father's identical twin, sharing his height, build, face, and hair—everything except his eyes. His entire family had brown eyes; his were the exception. His parents were unremarkable—normal, friendly people; not at all arrogant or condescending. Unlike a certain someone, Alex seemed to be a manufacturing defect, entirely unlike his family.

"Oh no, Mia, call me Sofia," Alex's mother corrected me after they'd summoned me to the living room.

I smiled. "Sofia. Thank you."

"So, who are you?" Aurora, Gabriel's twin sister, eyed me suspiciously. Despite their fraternal differences, her expression revealed their familial connection.

"Mia," I replied.

"She's a colleague's sister," Gabriel lied smoothly. "He asked me to look after her for a few days while he's busy."

Aurora frowned, clearly unconvinced.

"So, Mia, what do you do?" Alex's father asked.

"I'm a baker," I whispered.

Sofia's eyes lit up. "I loved baking when I was younger."

"Really, Mama?" Aurora asked. Sofia nodded, and they launched into reminiscences about Sofia's baking and the twins' mischievous toddler years. They even recounted how Alex, jealous of Ronan's impending arrival, had thrown himself down the stairs, resulting in a faded scar on his forehead.

The stories and laughter continued past midnight, until the elder Whitlocks ushered us to bed, as Gabriel had an early meeting.

"Mia, should I prepare the guest room for you?" Sofia asked kindly. Since learning I'd grown up without parents, she'd been particularly warm toward me. Even Alex's father's demeanor had softened.

"If it's not too much trouble," I replied.

"Of course not," she said.

"But Mom," Aurora protested, "the guest room's air conditioning isn't working, remember?"

Sofia looked confused. "Huh?"

Aurora announced, "It's broken. And the other guest room still has Luna's things. And Ronan turned the third one into a man-cave for his eighteenth birthday, and you let him!"

Not wanting to be a burden—I'd been kicked out of too many foster homes for being inconvenient—I offered, "I can sleep without air conditioning."

"Nonsense!" Aurora scoffed. "I'll prepare Ronan's room for you."

Ronan, Alex's almost twenty-one-year-old brother, had been mentioned several times but wasn't present.

Alex glared at his twin.

"What?" Aurora shrugged, smirking. "He's partying. He probably won't even come home. I'll text him to crash in the guest room if he does."

"No," Alex refused.

"What 'no'?" Aurora retorted. "I'd have offered for her to stay with me, but I have work until 3 AM, and I'm sure she's exhausted from traveling."

My cheeks flushed. "I-I can manage anywhere. I'll be fine, really."

"She'll stay with me," Alex declared.

Aurora smirked. "She will?"

My eyes widened. "I will?"

The elder Whitlocks exchanged amused smiles, wished us goodnight, and went upstairs.

"I have to keep an eye on her until her brother's free, don't I?" Alex said. "How can I do that if she's not where I can keep an eye on her?"

"Yes, because Ronan poses such a danger to Mia," Aurora teased, her smirk widening.

Alex glared; she glared back until he sighed, shaking his head. She smiled triumphantly.

"Goodnight, Alex. Goodnight, Mia," she grinned. "Our room is next door, so keep the noise down, if there's any." She winked, and I felt my face burn.

"We're not like that," I mumbled.

Alex glared at her—not playfully this time, but with the chilling coldness I'd become accustomed to. "Not your business, Auro."

She pouted, flipped her hair, and gave him the finger before storming off.

I smiled at Alex. "You have a nice family."

He raised an eyebrow. "Nice? You call that nice?"

I nodded, pursing my lips. "Makes me wonder what happened to you."

He feigned offense.

"No, seriously," I pressed. "When I first met you, I thought you'd had an abusive childhood to turn out so"

"Cold?" he offered.

"Monstrous," I quipped.

He glared. "I've killed people for being called far less."

"And yet, you won't kill me."

"Yet," he conceded. "I won't kill you yet."

I followed him down the hallway to his room. It was large, much like mine, with dark blue wallpaper, a king-sized bed, a huge walk-in closet, and an even bigger bathroom. Blue curtains screened a balcony with a small table and chairs. It was surprisingly dust-free, despite apparent disuse.

The luxury of the room wasn't what quickened my pulse. It was the bed. There was only one.