Vain - Part Two (The Vain Series Book 2) Page 9

  I know that I should ask for all the details but Brighton will slant them in his direction so I'll question the very fabric of my connection with Noah. I'm not about to let him, or anyone, steal this weekend away from us. It means too much to me. It's the start of a new beginning for Noah and me. It's the start of a life outside emotional prison he's been keeping himself in.

  "I'm late, Brighton." I start the steep descent of the stairs down to the lobby of my building.

  "Alexa." He catches my elbow and I wobble precariously on the top step. I fear, for just a brief moment, that I'll fall. I instinctively reach out to grab his hand.

  "Brighton, I need to go." I stare into his eyes. Anything that may have been there the night I saw him at the gallery in New York is now gone. All I see now, when I look at him, is a moment in Paris.

  He nods and it's as if he finally sees it too. "I'm a phone call away. If you ever need me, I'll be on the first flight back here."

  It's a tender promise that I know I'll never take him up on. When I walk out of the door and get into a taxi to take me to Noah's apartment, Brighton will officially become a thread of the fabric of my past. I can finally put that part of my life to rest, right where it belongs.

  ***

  I glance down that the plain brown bag from Axel. Picking up a sandwich for our train ride is meant to pull at Noah's heartstrings. I know he considers it a special part of our connection, so surprising him with it seems like the ideal way to start our weekend of new beginnings. I'm excited to tell him that Brighton is leaving. He probably already knows. Brighton likely wanted to talk to Noah about his plans. I'm hopeful that he hasn't completely spoiled Noah's mood for me. Leave it to Brighton to try to fuck up my life even when he's heading out of it for good.

  I wait until the doorman whizzes back down in the elevator before I knock at the door. I don't hear footsteps but I know that Noah is in there, waiting for me to help him pack the few items of clothing that he does own. I knock again, much harder this time. I'm almost bouncing up and down from the sheer excitement of what's awaiting both of us in New York.

  The door opens slowly and I instantly know that it's not Noah holding onto the other side of the door handle. I spot her feet first. Her toenails are painted a subtle shade of pink. My eyes trail up her bare legs to the bottom of a white bed sheet that is wrapped around her petite frame. My breath hitches as my gaze stops on her face. I stare at her in wonder. My voice is caught somewhere inside of me.

  "Can I help you?"

  "Noah," I manage to spit out in haste. "I'm here to see him."

  Her eyes drop to the bag in my hand. I left my suitcase in the lobby, knowing that within minutes Noah and I would be back down on our way to the train station.

  "Are you delivering something?" Her eyes meet mine again and I see a reflection of my own question there. She's staring at me with the same wonder in her expression.

  "Is he here?" Just as the question leaves my lips I hear his voice in the background. I can't make out the words. Maybe I don't want to make them out.

  "You look like me," she whispers as she reaches to take the bag from my grasp. My eyes settle on her forearm and the jagged scar that adorns it. "You look almost exactly like me."

  I stare at the scar before pulling my eyes past her face to where Noah is now standing in the apartment, his nude, wet body just feet behind her. He's drying his hair with a towel.

  "Noah, look how much the delivery girl looks like me." There's a carefree lilt in her voice. "We could be twins."

  She's right. We could be twins. She looks so much like me. More than Amy did. More than any of the blonde, blue-eyed women in the portraits did. More than any woman he's photographed, or called an agency for, or fucked has. This woman bears a striking resemblance to me and suddenly it all makes sense.

  "What are the chances my random twin would be delivering your food?" She darts her head back to look at him.

  It's not random. That's why I'm perfection to him. I'm her. I'm Camilla without the scar.

  I take a step forward.

  I need to talk to him.

  I need to understand what's happening.

  "Camilla." Her name is a growl that comes from deep within him. "Give us a minute."

  "You can tip her in front of me." She doesn't move. "Get rid of her, Noah. We have a lot to talk about."

  "Go in the other room." His hand sweeps down the hallway and she walks away, her bare feet moving quickly along the floor.

  "Noah," I say in a tone that I can't even hear. "What is going on?"

  He doesn't respond. He stares blankly at my face, his eyes studying each of my features intently.

  "What is going on?" I repeat louder and more clearly.

  "You need to go, Alexa."

  I reach for his arm but he pulls back. I stumble forward before I regain my footing. "No. I'm not going anywhere."

  "Please, Alexa. Just go."

  The door opens under his heavy hand. His eyes don't meet mine as I walk back into the hallway. The dull thud of the door slamming shut the only sound in the empty space.

  Thank You!

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  About the Author

  Deborah Bladon has never read a romance hero she didn't like. Her love for romance novels began when she was old enough to board the bus, library card in hand to check out the newest Harlequin paperbacks. She's a Canadian by heart, and by passport, but you can often spot her in New York City sipping a latte and looking for inspiration for her next story. Manhattan is definitely her second home.

  She cherishes her family and believes that each day is a gift for writing, for reading, and for loving.