Wish you were mine

82. Nightmare

PENELOPE

Silence.

Complete...

Utter...

Silence.

My finger was still accusingly pointed at him.

My mouth slowly fell open.

I looked at Madeline.

Then at the blond man.

Then back at Madeline again.

"...Your brother?"

The blond man slipped the now-folded handkerchief back into his pocket with elegant precision.

His icy blue eyes met mine.

One corner of his lips lifted into a faint, almost mocking smile.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Anderson."

His voice was smooth.

Cultured.

Dangerously calm.

"I must say..."

His gaze briefly flickered to the hand that had shoved him.

"...your introduction was certainly... memorable."

My eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

Did she just call this weirdo her brother?

For a moment, I wondered if the afternoon heat had finally gotten to me.

I looked at him again.

Now that I knew, I could see it-the same striking shade of blue in his eyes, the same unmistakable intensity that Madeline carried in hers. The resemblance had been there all along. I had simply been too busy preparing for his murder to notice it.

Madeline stood beside me, her chest rising and falling with barely contained irritation.

"Then why did he grab your hand like that?" I demanded.

"Because I was about to fall," she explained, exasperation creeping into her voice. "He grabbed me to stop me from falling."

She gave me a pointed look.

"You misunderstood everything."

My gaze slowly shifted back to the man.

He was already standing beside his car, looking completely unimpressed by the entire situation. His expression held the kind of cold patience that made me feel even more embarrassed.

"I..." I cleared my throat.

"I'm sorry."

He didn't look particularly moved by my apology.

"Save it."

His gaze flickered briefly toward Madeline.

"An Anderson has plenty of things to apologize for."

The words were quiet, almost casual, but there was something underneath them that made my curiosity flare.

Before I could ask what he meant, he opened the door of his car and slid inside.

The engine purred to life.

Only then did I properly notice the vehicle.

My eyes widened.

A limited-edition Rolls-Royce sat gleaming beneath the afternoon sun, its polished exterior practically announcing that whoever owned it didn't have to worry about the price of anything.