“You raised him?”
“I did,” she says with pride.
“Then you knew his mother?” I’m being nosy, but I hope she doesn’t mind.
“Poor woman died too soon.”
I’m like a cat who caught a fish and would do anything to keep it. “Aiden doesn’t talk much about her.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Margo’s warm tone turns biting. “Alicia was messed up and took all sorts of pills.”
I don’t miss the note of dismay in Margo’s tone as if she either hates Alicia or hates what she did. It’s probably the latter since Alicia’s suicide must’ve wounded Aiden and Margo seems to care about his wellbeing.
I’m about to probe some more and ask if it was suicide or an accident, but Margo stops. “I forgot the salt.”
“I’ll go back with you.”
“No, go ahead. The game is about to start and the boys would flip without their chips.” She points down the hall. “The theatre room is around the corner.”
Of course they have a theatre room. Why did I think we’d watch the game in the lounge area like normal people?
When Margo trudges back from where we came from, I sigh and continue my path. I stop down the hall. Margo forgot to mention whether I should turn left or right. There are equally long hallways on both sides.
Footsteps sound down the hall. Maybe the butler or one of the boys returned and I can ask them.
As the footsteps approach, they’re more measured and confident like what I’d imagine a prime minister or a president’s footsteps to sound like.
A tall man appears from the right. He’s wearing a tailored navy blue suit that screams wealth and status. It’s not until I meet his gaze that I’m stuck staring at the older version of Aiden.
Jonathan King.
I saw him on TV and in newspapers and a few times at school, but this is the first time I’m this close to him.
He has the same jet black hair as Aiden, although Jonathan is more styled and streaked with a few white strands. His jaw is more defined than Aiden’s. His eyes appear a darker grey than his son’s. If I thought Aiden’s gaze is intimidating, then his father’s is a killer.
His attention falls on me with pure aggressiveness.
Chapter Forty-One
My grip tightens on the tray so I don’t drop it.
If I weren’t so sure that Jonathan King wouldn’t kill me with so many witnesses in the house, I would’ve bolted towards the door.
How can someone show such aggressiveness on a first meeting?
He cools down fast. A welcoming expression takes over his silver fox features.
“Hello,” he says in a smooth posh accent and offers me a tight-lipped smile along with his large hand.
If I didn’t sense the earlier aggression in my soul and felt it in my bones, I would’ve thought it was all in my head.
“Hello.” I hold the tray with one hand. The heavy weight falls on my arm and palm.
The moment I slip my hand in his, he squeezes so hard that I wince.
Uncle Jaxon taught me to always give firm handshakes. He said that first impressions matter the most and in the business world, status and deals can be decided upon handshakes.
As a rule, Uncle never deals with anyone who has weak or soft handshakes. Even Aunt’s handshake is as firm as Uncle’s. As a result, my handshakes are as strong as theirs.