I couldn't believe my eyes. My whole body shook at the sight of him, and when his fingers found mine, gently wrapping around my hand, I couldn't fight the emotions flowing through my body.

Ryker Marino in the flesh.

When I saw him after all that time, I found myself wondering why I'd pulled away in the first place. He looked so much different, yet I would recognize him anywhere.

His ink-black hair had grayed, and he looked older, more experienced. 

I followed him blindly as he led me through the house, until we reached an office.

He sat on the edge of his desk, and I sat in front of it in a plushy chair. I couldn't stop drinking him in, addicted to the feeling of being close to him again.

My pussy was wet. I realized it with an embarrassing flush of my cheeks, and judging by Ryker's knowing smile, he probably knew about it too.

"I assume you're looking for your sister," he said, and I nodded.

"How do you know Astor?"

"She… works for me," he replied roughly. "Has for a few years now."

"What are you doing here, Ryker?" I whispered. "You're supposed to be… somewhere else. Are you following me?"

"Yes," he replied, then chuckled after a short pause. "Not that I've had much luck until today. You're a hard woman to track down, Ginger Adley."

I flushed. He knew my last name, so surely he knew the story as well. He knew what Astor had done.

"Why did you give her a job?" I asked him. "You knew what she'd done!"

"No," he replied calmly. "She gave me a different last name, and I didn't know what she'd done until today. I had no idea you were sisters."

"None?" I raised my eyebrows. "She looks like me."

"Maybe when you're in the same room. Her hair is darker." He stared at his hands clasped in his lap. "I told myself she didn't look like you at all. In fact, I tried really fucking hard to convince myself she was nothing like you."

"Why?"

"Because, Ginger, I’ve seen you in every fucking woman since the day you left me. I looked for you in their faces, in their fucking soul. And no woman could ever compare."

I didn't know what to say to that. All I could manage to do was swallow thickly and avert my eyes. I couldn't look at him, couldn't bear the weight of his gaze, knowing how much he knew about me now.

Surely he hated me, judged me for what I had done to Astor.

"You know what I did, don't you?" I whispered, raising my eyes to his.

"You haven't done anything wrong, Ginger," he replied, though his eyes were filled with emotion.

"But you know everything, don't you? You know she went to the mental institution because of me."

"No," he said firmly. "She was admitted because she was fucking crazy. She burned down your family home. She killed your parents. She killed her own twin."

"I know," I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. "I know. I really thought so."

"You don't anymore?" he asked me gently.

I just waved my hand in the air, unable to tackle that topic just yet. 

"We'll talk about it later. But Ginger… you're in danger."

"So are you. I think she's going to kill again."

"Why?"

"The asylum. You didn't hear about that?"

"What about it?" His brows furrowed, knitting together in worry.

"It burned down. Just like our house did. A woman died, one of the people who ran the place. It's nothing but rubble now."

"When?"

"A few years ago," I admitted. "I think Astor did it, after she escaped. She asked a family friend for money and came to Italy. And that's how she found you."

"Does she know about the situation?" he asked, looking deep into my eyes.

"What situation?" I replied, playing like I didn't know.

But God, I wanted to hear him say it.

"About us." His eyes blazed with silent fire.

Us. That word sounded so good coming from his lips. The desire to stand up, to go between his legs and kiss those lips I used to know so well, consumed me. I barely managed to stop myself.

"I don't know. She never mentioned you to me."

"I knew she had sisters," he admitted. "She mentioned you sometimes, but both of you. I knew she has a twin."

"Had," I corrected him bitterly. "Had a twin."

A silence lay upon the room, and I stared at my hands awkwardly.

I wanted nothing else than for him to scoop me up in his arms, carry me to the bedroom and show me all the things I had been missing. But I couldn't say it out loud, not even if I tried. My mouth was firmly shut, and my own conscience prevented me from saying a word.

"Ginger," Ryker spoke up. "There's something you should know."

I looked up at him, surprised to find regret in his eyes.

"I… before I knew you were related," he started. "Before I knew anything, I tried to find you. I've been searching for you for so long. And I still don't know where you were."

He waited, but I didn't say anything, and he sighed before going on.

"I've only been with one woman since you," he admitted.

"How nice," I snapped. "How nice of you."

"It was Astor. I didn't know. I swear to God, Ginger, I didn't know who she was."

I stood up, feeling like my head was going to explode. God, I wanted to kill him. Intense rage and sadness bubbled in the pit of my stomach, and I wasn't sure whether I wanted to hit him or burst out in tears.

"I tried so hard to get you back," he said. "But you were running, Ginger. You kept running away from me, tesoro."

"Don't call me that. Don't you ever call me that again."

"Please, Ginger." He reached out for me. "Please, let me make it up to you."

"No!" I snarled, pulling out of his embrace. "Don't you understand, Ryker? You can never make this better."

"Why not?" he asked, following me as I paced the room. "I'll do fucking anything, tesoro. Anything you fucking want, just for you, my pretty little girl. My treasure. My Ginger."

"Not yours," I growled. "I was never yours!"

"You were," he insisted. "That night in the garden, with Ophelia watching. You fucking promised me anything I wanted, Ginger. Was that a goddamn lie? Was it all a lie?"

I stayed stubbornly quiet, not wanting to satisfy him with an answer. 

"I know it wasn't," he said heatedly. "I know how you felt that summer, Ginger. Why did you leave me? Why did you fucking run?"

I didn't answer.

The frustration, the tension in the room was palpable, but neither of us acknowledged it. Not until Ryker groaned and grabbed a glass off the table, smashing it against the wall with a growl.

Everything stood still. I stared at him, my eyes wide, my hands shaking.

He wouldn't hurt me. He'd never hurt me. He cares too much… just like I do.

He approached me then, standing only a few steps away as his eyes turned to mine.

"Why did you leave, Ginger?" he asked again. And that time, when I opened my mouth, the words came pouring out.

"I couldn't stay. I couldn't face the truth. The betrayal. What I'd done to my sister, to Astor. It was always on my mind, and it turned me into a different person. A quiet girl scared of every fucking shadow. Do you even understand what that's like, Ryker?"

He just kept glaring at me, not saying a word. I closed the distance between us, our lips close enough to touch.

"I betrayed her," I went on. "She was in that place because of me, and I never even checked up on her, Ryker. Never, not once. I wanted her to rot in that asylum for what she'd done. And look at her now. She found you. Whether she knew or not, she took you from me."

"She didn't," he said hoarsely. "She could never take me from you."

I just shook my head, my gaze downcast.

"She did," I muttered. "She stole you."

He touched my hand with a single finger, the touch like a jolt of electricity through my whole body. Our eyes connected for the briefest of moments, and I shivered before putting my hands over my face to hide my emotions.

"Ginger," he begged. "Just fucking look at me, please."

"No," I said in my smallest voice.

"She could never take me from you."

His words filled me with shame, and I was angry at my sister again. Yes, it was justified this time, but once again she was the root of the problem between Ryker and me.

I'd left because I thought he could never love me knowing what I'd done to Astor.

But he'd slept with her, maybe even loved her. Did he know then what she'd done? Did he forgive her?

I never had the chance to be forgiven. And the only person I could blame for it was me.

He took my chin between his fingers. "Look at me. Please, tesoro. Please."

I felt so small, so fragile when he held me, like he could break me with a snap of his fingers.

Slowly, I looked up through lashes laden with tears.

His eyes were just as emotional as mine, and we stared at one another for a long time before I let out a choked sob.

"Ginger, I could never hurt you, tesoro. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for what I've done. I should have waited, should have tried to find you. I should have—"

"No," I whispered. "Maybe this is how it's meant to be."

"What?" His brows knit together. "It's not, Ginger. It's meant to be you and me, together. Always. Can't you see that? Even after all this time, you still can't see?"

“See what?” I muttered, my eyes on his.

“That we belong with each other,” he said, his lips dangerously close to mine. “That you're meant to be fucking mine, Ginger.”

“N-No,” I lied through gritted teeth.

He leaned in closer, whispering right against my lips.

“Well, in that case, tesoro, you’re nothing but a pretty little fool."