Or maybe I didn’t interfere because I’m a coward who doesn’t want to see her choose him over me.
I face Jonathan, making sure he sees the tension radiating off my body. This one has his schemes written all over it.
He’s wearing a dark brown Italian suit all complete with Italian leather shoes. Handmade. One of a kind. Just for him.
Jonathan likes to believe the world revolves around him. And why wouldn’t he when everything he wants whirls in his orbit?
His hair is slicked back and he has the usual indifferent expression that Aiden inherited.
“How did you find me?”
“You thought I didn’t know about your little hideout?” He throws a glance around the place with disregard before his metal eyes slide back to me. “I told you. You only exist because I allow it.”
Although a thousand retorts fight to break free, I reign them in. I lived with Jonathan long enough to recognise his provocations.
He feeds off anger. Now, I realise that I’ve been treating it all wrong.
I’ve been playing in the devil’s hands and pretending to be above him.
“See, patterns are my forte, and I knew you’d fuck up at some point. It’s written in your DNA. One mistake, Levi. I gave you the right to one mistake and it had to be a Clifford.” He pronounces the name with disgust as if he doesn’t want to say it.
“She has nothing to do with this.”
He raises an eyebrow, and I curse myself for wording it that way. Fuck. I just gave him the reaction he needs.
“I see.” Jonathan approaches with steady steps, his shoes are the only sound in the house. “This isn’t a meaningless fling to rebel against me. That’s… interesting.”
“If you have a problem, then you have it with me,” I snarl in his face. “Stay the hell away from her.”
“I don’t hav
e to approach her. Her father will be more than enough to put her back where she belongs.” His calm expression morphs to sheer hatred. “Far the fuck away from the King name.”
I pause. It’s the first time I see Jonathan showing such great hatred to anyone. He believes emotions such as hatred, revenge and holding grudges are a waste of time and energy.
Lord Clifford must’ve done something unforgivable to elicit unschooled hatred from Jonathan.
“You recognise that this is your fall, right?” Jonathan stares down at me with that usual ‘you’re a rock in my shoe’ look. “Are you ready for seven years in my company? No more football or your little escapades.”
My jaw clenches so hard, I’m surprised it doesn’t snap.
The moment I always dreaded has come.
My football dream is withering away right in front of my fucking eyes.
It’s at moments like these that people start regretting what they did.
I don’t.
If I get to repeat last night and today with Astrid, I’d do it all over again.
“I assume you’re not ready.” Jonathan shakes his head with what looks like exasperation. “You’re persistently defiant like your father.”
“Is this the part where you tell me I’ll become crazy like him?”
“James was not crazy.” Jonathan’s face and voice turn stone cold. “He had mental issues, but he wasn’t deranged. He did everything for you, ungrateful brat.”
My mouth parts. Did Jonathan just defend my father?