Play with the Phantom: Chapter 4

Ari

“How do I look?” I ask Asher, twirling in my white summer dress. The fabric is a structured white linen, and it’s what Frankie calls my ‘good girl’ dress. The neckline isn’t too low, the length isn’t too short, and it has adorable, puffy sleeves. I’ve paired it with nude, flat sandals and left my long brown hair naturally wavy.“You look great,” Asher says, looking back at his phone a second after his eyes skim down my body from his place sitting on my bed.Grabbing my vintage pink Prada purse, I slide my phone inside, set it on top of my suitcase, and walk over to Asher.He sighs as he pockets his phone, and his hands come to rest on my hips.“What’s wrong?” he asks, brows wrinkling.“I’m just nervous. Dinner with your parents is one thing, but a week with them? What if they discover I reenact entire courtroom scenes from in the shower?”Legally Blonde He smiles at this. “You don’t really do that, do you?” I scowl down at him in answer, and he chuckles. “They love you, Ari. It’s why my mom asked me to invite you.”My brown eyes flick between his blue ones. “I hope so. Because I really like you.”“I really like you, too,” he murmurs, squeezing my ass and kissing my stomach.“Do we have time for a quickie?” I ask, wiggling my brows as I look down at him.He laughs. “Unfortunately not. I’d rather not be late, or else I’ll never hear the end of it from my dad.”He stands, dropping his hands from my hips, and I miss the contact. Grabbing my things, he walks to the front door to begin loading his car. I do a once-over of the house, making sure everything is all set for me to be away for a week.My eyes snag on the drawer where I stashed the two letters I’ve gotten, and I swallow.The letters had been a quiet, creeping presence for a few days last week, but there hasn’t been another since then.Seven whole days of complete radio silence.Maybe that should bring relief. Maybe it should make me feel safer, knowing that whoever had been watching me—writing to me—had finally lost interest.But instead, a strange, unwelcome feeling twists low in my stomach.Disappointment.I shake my head, pushing the thought away as quickly as it comes. I be relieved. I should be grateful that the eerie, obsessive messages have stopped. But some dark, hidden part of me—one I don’t like to acknowledge—itches at the silence.shouldAfter locking up, Asher and I climb into his car. He tells me a little bit more about his family, and I give him my rapt attention. Apparently today is something called midsummer—a holiday that his father, Otto, grew up celebrating in Sweden. Asher drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console, and every once in a while, he squeezes my thigh lightly. It feels so… domestic.It’s a three-hour drive to Malibu where his parents are renting the vacation house. And once we pull into the gated driveway, my mouth drops open. The house is bigger than I expected. More modern, too. It sits on a cliff overlooking the ocean, all glass walls and sleek wooden beams. It’s the kind of place that people with money book when they want to pretend they’re still connected to nature while sipping imported wine and ignoring emails.The place is as polished as I expected, impeccably maintained and gleaming in the late afternoon sun.“What do you think?” Asher asks, placing an arm around my shoulders as we both exit the car.“I think it explains a lot,” I tease, smiling when he huffs a quiet laugh.“Come on. My parents are already inside.”I’ve met them before, of course. Hannah and Otto. They were polite the two other times we’d had dinner with them, welcoming in the way that people raised to uphold appearances always are. Asher is like that too—buttoned-up, controlled. Everything in his life fits into a neat, color-coded folder, and his parents are exactly the same.Asher grabs our suitcases and takes my hand, leading me toward the front door. It opens before we reach it, and Otto steps onto the porch, smiling. Asher’s father is a broad man and though he’s white-haired, he still carries the imposing presence of someone used to being in control.“So nice to see you again, Ari,” he says, his voice warm as he pulls me into a brief but firm hug.“You too,” I reply, offering a smile. “Thank you for having me.”Hannah appears in the doorway, clasping her hands together. “We’re just waiting on one more, and then we’ll get seated outside.”I glance at Asher as my brows knit together. His grip tightens slightly around my fingers.“You invited him?” Asher’s voice is cold, sharp enough to make his father’s brow lift slightly.“Of course I did, son. We’re a family, and we should behave as such. Besides, it’s midsummer. A time for celebration, don’t you think?” Otto pats Asher on the back before walking into the house, leaving us standing there.Asher exhales, his fingers twitching at his sides.“Are you okay?” I ask quietly, touching his arm.He nods stiffly but doesn’t say anything. Hannah gestures for us to follow, leading us through the house to the open patio doors. The backyard is breathtaking, an elegant dining table set with candles and fresh flowers, the sound of the ocean mingling with the faint trickle of the pool.Asher is tense beside me, his body coiled tight like a spring about to snap. I squeeze his hand. “Who else did your parents invite?”He sighs, jaw clenching. “My brother.”I pause mid-step. “You have a brother?”Asher presses his lips together before nodding. “I never told you because I want nothing to do with him. I even changed my last name to Harrison—my mother’s maiden name—so no one would make the connection.”There’s something almost haunted in his voice, and I remember his words from last week.“Family stuff. I’m a little distracted.”I frown, watching the way his throat bobs when he swallows hard. His weird mood all week must’ve been because of his brother.“But why? What happened?”“Ari,” he says, voice low, “promise me you’ll stay away from him, okay? He’s dangerous.”My stomach knots. “Dangerous? How?”Before he can answer, Otto’s voice cuts through the air. “Ah, there he is!”Asher rubs his temples, and I slowly turn toward the back doors.The man standing in the threshold isn’t just anyone.My breath catches. My pulse stumbles.Because he isn’t just Asher’s brother. He’s his .twinIdentical—perfectly so.Asher never told me he had an identical twin brother.The revelation lingers in my mind, sticky and uncomfortable. It wasn’t something casual he’d forgotten to mention. It was something he actively hid.And now, I’m about to find out the reason why.