Page 4 of Beni

“That looks like it’s raw,” Marcus noted, gesturing at the busted lip Beni sported. “And you’re not in any better shape, huh?”

Bene made that noise under his breath again. “Face hurts.”

“Yeah, it looks like it.”

They weren’t exaggerating.

A night in jail did nothing for bruises and cuts. Beni couldn’t smile without feeling that split in his lip rip open again. Each time he flexed his hands, his bruised, busted knuckles protested to no end. He was kind of sure he had a bruised rib, if not broken, but the hospital wouldn’t do shit for that.

“Should see the other guys,” Beni muttered.

Marcus shook his head. “What is wrong with the two of you?”

“Uh …”

Bene looked over at Beni.

He shrugged.

That was not the response Marcus wanted.

Color me fucking surprised.

“What caused the fight at the club?” Marcus asked.

“People using their mouth for shit they shouldn’t.”

“Excuse me?”

Beni eyed Marcus, and the tailored, pressed suit that covered his form. What was it—nine in the morning? Why was he already at their parents’ mansion, dressed in a three-piece suit, looking like he was ready to start his whole day?

“Do you ever sleep in?” Beni asked. “Or … I don’t know, do what you want to do instead of just business for Dad?”

Marcus arched a brow. “Do the two of you ever go out and not cause a fucking scene?”

“Not really.”

“See, that’s a problem. Because that’s all the two of you do—cause problems, Beni. You can’t even control yourselves at a club we don’t own. And then you get yourselves arrested. You’re fucking lucky Papa has connections to the RCMP, and managed to get those charges dropped. Had it worked out last night, actually.”

Bene’s brow furrowed.

Beni matched his brother.

“Wait,” the two of them echoed at the same time, another strange occurrence for others where the twins were concerned. They could speak in tune with one another, without any prior knowledge of what the other would say. “The charges were dropped last night?”

“Yes.”

“Why did we only get out this morning?” Beni demanded.

Marcus smirked. “Dad thought you two would do well to sober up in a cell.”

Perfect.

Just fucking great.

Beni glared at the mansion at the end of the paved, circular driveway. It was cold as hell—January offered no reprieve in Canada, that was for sure. And yet, he had little to no interest in going inside the warm mansion now because he didn’t want to hear his father bitch. The sloped, Swedish style of the mansion’s eaves brought back familiar memories of his childhood looking out the windows, and the downhill drive in the crisp winter air made him think of sledding down it with his twin.

All good things.