nine
Elsa
“What do you meanyou want to switch places with me right now? We’re already at the ball.”
I’ve been watching for any sign that Jack has feelings for Ember. The plan tonight is for Ember and Riker to cause a scene while dancing to draw out any would-be attackers. Ember and I slipped away to the ladies’ room to “freshen up” before the big scene.
“I haven’t told him it was me he made love to that night. I want to see whether Riker can make him jealous. I want to see which one of us he runs to—you posing as me, dancing with Hollander, or me posing as you while dancing with Riker.”
“Doesn’t that seem kind of dangerous? I mean, he knows that Trace and I are a couple. Why do you think he would still want me? More importantly, why don’t you talk to him and tell him the truth?”
“Please, Ember,” I beg, not ready to tell her all my insecurities about being known as a cold-hearted bitch are taking over. “You know Trace isn’t going to be able to watch Riker and you on the dance floor. Either one or both of them is going to realize that and drag you away from Riker.
Ember crosses her arms over her chest and stares at me for what feels like forever. “Fine.” She uncrosses her arms and begins to unzip her gown. “But don’t be surprised if this makes Jack angry.”
Yeah, angry because I switched places with his precious Ember.
I love my twin. I really do, but I can’t help but wonder whether, every time I’ve seen Jack look at me like he wants to devour me, he’s really thinking about Ember, since we share the same face.
We’re able to switch our outfits right down to our shoes and the necklaces from the Frozen Flame collection, which our family company delivered this afternoon. There is no way anyone will notice that we’ve switched places.
Ember walks out of the ladies’ room first while I trail behind, watching as she makes a beeline for Hollander.
We met Hollander and Riker earlier today. They spent the afternoon in our hotel suite reviewing the plan for tonight. Riker is definitely the more outgoing of the two, or at least the more direct. Hollander, on the other hand, seems quiet, almost reserved, as if he’s calculating everything in his head before he finally speaks.
I make my way through the crowd to stand next to Riker, “Hey, pretty lady, do you want to dance?” Riker winks, holding his hand out to me.
“Sure.” Taking his hand, I let him lead me onto the dance floor. He rests his hands lower on my waist, so his fingertips are almost grazing the top of my ass, just as we planned. Only he was supposed to be dancing with Ember, the Temptress, making a scene by dancing provocatively and drawing attention to them.
Ember’s gown is a strapless dress with a heart-shaped neckline, showing more skin than I’ve ever shown at a ball. But right now I’m Ember. I need to embrace the Flame.
Riker’s eyes sweep the crowd. With a slight nod, he shifts his gaze back to mine. “Show time.” He lowers his head, pressing kisses along my shoulder and down my arm as his fingers glide down my back until he’s cupping my ass cheeks. He’s a sexy guy, but I feel nothing for him. All I want is to be in Jack’s arms, with him touching me like this.
“Get your hands off my woman, asshole.” Just as I predicted, Jack is pulling “Ember” out of Riker’s arms.
Jack pulls me tight against his chest, his hands wrapped around me possessively. But it’s not me he’s possessive of—it’s Ember. Tired of fighting a losing battle, I give in to tears, letting them fall down my face as I push myself out of Jack’s arms.
He gently grips my arm and spins me around to face him. Where do you think you’re going, Elsa?”
ten
Jack
Ialmost lost myshit when I realized Elsa and Ember had switched dresses and were pretending to be each other. The sight of Riker’s hands and lips on Elsa’s body sent me into a crazed frenzy.
How in the world had Trace agreed to the plan, allowing Riker to touch his woman so intimately?
“Y-you called me, Elsa.” Elsa looks at me, her big blue eyes filled with tears.
“Of course I called you Elsa, that’s your name, isn’t it, Princess?”
Her hand flies to her mouth as a gasp escapes her lips, “You know who I am and what we did.” It’s not a question, but a statement.
“Do you really think I wouldn’t know the real name of the woman I love?”
“You love me? But we barely know eachother.”
“I know enough to know the woman I made love to that night is the woman standing in front of me, the woman I plan to marry.”
