Xander tucks the ball under his arm. He’s also in casual jeans and a denim jacket. “It was a one time only, Margo, come on.”
“Yeah, Margo.” Ronan quips. “Don’t be a dictator.”
“You have no right to talk. You almost burnt my kitchen over the weekend. I can’t believe I take one day off and all hell breaks loose.”
Ronan smiles sheepishly and Aiden says, “That’s it. No one is allowed in Margot’s kitchen anymore.”
“That’s my boy.” She smiles warmly at him. That motherly feel returns in full force even more than the look she gave Ronan earlier.
When Aiden smiles back, I’m struck by how beautiful his genuine smile is. I look for signs that he’s putting on a mask, but right here, in his home with the closest thing he has to family, he appears carefree.
“And no one is taking Margot away.” He gives pointed glares to Xander and Ronan.
The latter huffs. “I won’t stop trying.”
Xander lifts a shoulder. “Me neither.”
“Stop it, boys.” Margo gets between them. Her petite size is almost comical compared to their ridiculous height. “Don’t fight in front of Elsa. It’s not every day Aiden brings his girlfriend.”
Girlfriend.
I don’t know why my cheeks heat at that word. Aiden and I never talked about what we call each other. We didn’t even make it official yet.
I look over at Aiden, but he has that infuriating poker face on.
Xander wraps an arm around my shoulder and brings me to his side. He’s so close that my nostrils fill with his expensive perfume. “She was my girlfriend first, weren’t you, love?”
One moment, Xander is standing beside me, the next, he’s shoved back and my shoulder is free of his arm. Aiden has him by the collar of his jacket and is dragging him away.
With a chip in hand, Ronan lowers his head to whisper in a teasing tone, “Don’t say a word about the threesome suggestion. My life depends on it.”
Still clutching Xander, Aiden grabs Ronan by the back of his nape.
“My chips!” Ronan hugs a bowl to his chest as Aiden drags them both away.
“Tell everyone I was a good person!” Ronan shouts over his shoulder at me. “I want this line on my tombstone, He had a 7 inch dick and used it well.”
Xander and I burst into laughter as they all disappear around the corner.
“Boys.” Margo shakes her head and places the remaining bowls of chips on the tray.
“Let me help,” I offer, setting my backpack on a stool.
“It’s all right, sweetie. I can do it.”
“Please let me. I do everything on my own at home.” And I’m not used to people serving me.
“It’s so rare to find reliable teens these days.” She steps aside and motions at another tray.
After she adds a few other snacks and mayonnaise to the mix, we carry the trays out of the kitchen.
“Have you been living here for long?” I ask.
“I’ve been here since Aiden was born.” A look of nostalgia covers her features. “He was my boy since then.”
“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.
However, the onslaught of a near-aggressive handshake from Jonathan catches me completely by surprise. Maybe his handshake is as strong as his business tycoon status. Or maybe this aggression is only directed towards me.
Either way, I don’t give weak handshakes.
I meet Jonathan King’s cold eyes and squeeze back as hard as my strength allows. My other hand screams with pain at holding all the tray’s weight, but there’s no way I’m bailing out first.
Something like contempt flashes on Jonathan’s blank face. At this moment, he looks so much like Aiden, it’s uncanny. Now, I know where the heir got his personality.
Jonathan King and his son are the type of people who crush while staring at their opponents in the eyes.