Aiden hasn’t even spoken to me since that day he threatened me to leave. I haven’t had any interaction with Levi, although I heard Margot mention to Tom that he sometimes visits during the day when neither Jonathan nor I are in the house.
If I can handle the older King, surely I can take on the other two, right?
Supposing I’m even ‘handling’ Jonathan. If anything, it’s the other way around.
It’s like I’m in a loop, the moment I think I see a way out, it resets to the beginning.
And now, I have to sit at a table with two mini versions of him who don’t like me at all.
How much worse could this be?
29
Aurora
I’m late.
I could blame it on the suffocating traffic, but I don’t. I needed the extra minutes to come to terms with what I’m about to do.
Not that it helps.
By the time I push the dining room doors open, everyone is seated at the table.
Every. Single. One.
And all their attention shifts to me.
My skin prickles at being forced under the spotlight. Ever since the public show I went through during Dad’s trial, attention has become my most loathsome enemy. I did everything not to be the centre of it by staying in the shadows.
Apparently, I wasn’t doing a good enough job, considering that Jonathan found me.
The focus in this room isn’t like the one I received eleven years ago. The people present here don’t want to mutilate me and hang my head on a stick. However, the energy isn’t welcoming either.
Jonathan is at the head of the table, as usual. His pressed black suit moulds to his muscles like a second skin. I swear the tyrant only likes to wear black, like his heart. I hate how much it suits him and brings out the darkness of his grey eyes and the sharp lines of his jaw.
His lean, masculine fingers form a steeple at his chin as he leans forward, both elbows on the table. Those fingers were inside me just this morning when he brought me to orgasm to prepare me for the size of his cock and then —
I force myself to avert my gaze from him so I can focus on the others. Aiden sits on his right, watching me with that calculative streak he inherited from his father.
Elsa is seated beside him, her body language the complete opposite of her husband’s. She smiles and offers me a tentative wave that I return awkwardly.
On Jonathan’s left sits a blond-haired man with piercing blue eyes — or rather, blue-grey. Levi King. Jonathan’s only nephew.
I know he’s a professional football player for Arsenal, and I’ve seen pictures of him before, but he’s more striking in person. His physique appears harder and taller than Aiden’s. Despite his blond look that differs from the other King men, Levi has the same straight nose and an intense gaze that’s meant to cut.
He now watches me as if I’m a ghost coming after his life. “Fuck me. She does look like Alicia. Are you sure she’s not her, Uncle?”
“Levi.” A petite woman with long brown hair and jade green eyes holds on to his bicep and shakes her head. Astrid Clifford. Levi’s wife and Lord Henry Clifford’s daughter.
The digging around I did before going to Aiden’s wedding is sure coming in handy. At least I’m not hit out of the blue by people I don’t recognise.
Levi’s expression immediately softens as he grins down at her. “I’m just saying it how I see it, Princess.”
“Levi,” Jonathan warns in his non-negotiable tone. “Change seats.”
“This is where I always sit,” he argues. “Why don’t you tell Aiden to change his seat?”
His younger cousin throws him a glare. “That won’t be happening.”