Twisted with a Kiss: A Dark Enemies to Lovers Romance by B. B. Hamel

Author:B. B. Hamel [Hamel, B. B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-03-31T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 15

War

Melody stays locked in the tower for the rest of the day and I can’t blame her for it, not after that ugly brawl. It only lasted seconds, and I couldn’t get to her fast enough to stop it, but I saw the pain in her eyes after it was done. Nothing hurts like family, and this family seems dead set on hurting each other as much as humanly possible.

I’m tempted to scale those stairs and push my way into the top room, but I decide she’s better off left alone.

Around dinnertime, a few cars leave the main house, and I go wandering back, looking around for those cowardly shithead uncles or any of her cousins, but the place is empty.

Which provides a man like me with an opportunity.

The thing about doing what I do is I developed some flexible morals over the years. I’ve seen the nasty side of people and got a glimpse at what families are capable of when they’re desperate and angry and willing to go as far as it takes to get what they want, and I’ve learned that there are no lines when it comes to winning. Everything for me is moral gray, there’s no black and white. Melody hasn’t figured that out yet, but fortunately, she’s got me.

Something about Daisy’s story didn’t ring true to me. I keep thinking about what she said about Colton Leader as I drift through the big house, looking like I’m just out for an evening stroll and taking a tour. I poke my head in room after room, moving from wing to wing. I come across some living spaces, some bedrooms, and I poke around where it seems interesting, but I keep it moving. I keep it casual. And I keep on thinking.

It was when she started talking about the years after Melody left, and how her father started going downhill mentally, and how she was the one that stepped up and saved this place—

I smile to myself as I turn a knob and peer into another bedroom on the far end of the eastern wing. This one feels right—its feminine but younger. It’s a big room, very pretty and well maintained, with small modern touches. Throw pillows, comfortable blankets, a couple candles left burning. Heels are lined up near the door. I step inside, peering around the corner, but the place is empty. A computer sits blank on a desk across from a massive four-poster bed. An iPad charges on the bedside table. Another door leads into a bathroom with a messy vanity, and beyond that is a massive walk-in closet with more women’s clothing.

I start with the closet. People are predictable. I learned that over the years too—even if I think a hiding spot is too obvious, half the time that’s exactly where I find whatever I’m searching for. I flip through sweaters, glance under dresses, poke around on shelves. I find old shoeboxes of photographs—young girls smiling, tanned and happy, and I recognize

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