CHAPTER THIRTY

“How long do you think he’s going to keep us here?” Number Twelve asks as we walk down the hall the next morning, our arms full of washing.

“I really don’t know. I don’t even think he knows. He has us here for whatever reason, but I’m not sure letting us go is big on his list right now.”

“Surely he can’t have just stolen thirteen girls. Where did he get us from? Do you think we have families looking for us?”

I shake my head. “No, I honestly don’t. I think William saved us somehow.”

“Maybe,” she says.

We round the corner, and stop dead when we see William’s father, Peter. He’s standing against the wall, staring at us with a hard expression on his face. He narrows his eyes and stares down at our hands for a minute before returning his glare to our faces. Did he overhear us? My heart begins to pound. If he knew what William was doing here, he’d make his life a living hell.

“Peter,” I say, straightening. “Does William know you’re here?”

He narrows his eyes again. Something doesn’t feel right.

“What’s your name, girl?”

I stare at Number Twelve, and she’s staring at the floor, nervously.

“Emelyn,” I say, as firmly as I can.

“And you?” he growls.

Number Twelve doesn’t answer. Her hands begin to shake, and I know she’s nervous.

“Her name is Samantha,” I lie.

“Why have you got numbers tattooed on your hands?”

I feel my em"

heart beginning to pound. He must have overheard us. It’s the only reason he would ask so many questions. I feel sick to my stomach as I try hard to come up with an explanation for the odd numbers on our hands. Surprisingly, it’s Number Twelve who speaks.

“It was a silly prank when we were younger.”

Peter stares at her, then back to me, then back to her before muttering, “Whatever, where’s William?”

My breath leaves my mouth in a whoosh. He doesn’t know. He would make more of a scene if he suspected us.

“He’s in his office.”

He walks past us without answering. I let my shoulders slump and I turn to Number Twelve. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “Do you think he heard us?”

I sigh and shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“Emelyn!”

I hear Ben’s voice and I spin around to see him striding down the hall, a huge grin on his face. I can’t help but smile at him. He stops in front of us, smiling down, his face always a mask of happiness.

“How are you, angel?”

I beam. “I’m well, Ben, thanks.”

He turns his eyes to Number Twelve and they noticeably soften. “And who’s this lovely lady?”

I turn to Number Twelve to see her staring at him in shock. She must know he looks exactly like William; she obviously never paid attention at dinner. Her hands are trembling and her cheeks are pink as she takes him in. He grins down at her, clearly flattered.

“Do you have a name, beautiful?”

Her cheeks flame even harder, and she blinks up at him. “Ah, S-S-Samantha,” she says, copying the name I just gave their father.

“Sam,” he purrs. “Beautiful. I’m Ben, William’s brother. Twin, in case you didn’t notice already.”

She nods, tucking a strand of her dark-red hair behind her ears. Ben winks at her, and I can almost feel the sexual tension in the air.

“Anyway, I would love to stay with you ladies and chat, but I have to find Will and do some business. Maybe later?”

“Later, Ben.” I smile.

“B-b-bye,” Number Twelve whispers.

He grins at her one last time, before disappearing around the corner. I turn to her, unable to stop the little giggle coming from my throat. “You should have seen your face.”

“You never told me William had a twin brother.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to know.”

She flushes. “I wanted to know.”

I smile and tuck my arm through hers. “Well, now you know.”

“You’re sick,” William murmurs, stroking my damp hair from my forehead.

“Just a cold,” I croak.

My head is pounding. My entire body is trembling and I feel so sick I just want to curl up and die, but I don’t want William to worry.

“That’s a lie,” he says, standing straight and pulling out his phone.

A moment later he’s ordering someone to bring soup, painkillers, and water. He turns back to me and presses the back of his hand against my cheek. Frowning, he pulls my blankets back.

“William,” I groan.

“You have a fever, you shouldn’t be really warmReal8217;t b12;it will make it worse.”

“But...” I begin.

He puts up his hand. “Trust me, Beauty. I will make sure you’re well.”

I hear a soft knock at the door and lift my head off the soft pillow to see Number One walking into the room. She stares at me, gives me a weak smile, and then places a tray down. “George told me to bring this in,” she says quickly.

“Thank you, Number One.”

William doesn’t look at her as he speaks, but he does smile. She nods and leaves the room. William opens the tray and brings a bowl of soup over, sitting beside the bed. I give him a wobbly smile. It seems odd someone like William would open himself like this to me, allowing me to see the gentle that’s inside.