So no, it’s not a smile. It’s a declaration of something sinister and potent.
“Why would you care who I do business with, Jonathan?” Last time I checked, he wasn’t my guardian.
“You think you can skip me in my own territory and choose someone else to do business with? And not just anyone, but Ethan. What’s your message there? Are you trying to challenge me?”
“No.” That’s the last thing I want.
“Then why didn’t you come to me?”
“I don’t like mixing familial affairs with business.” And I hate him for the way Alicia died. If I didn’t know he would overpower me, I’d punch him in the face and relieve the tension I’ve been carrying for eleven years.
“The only family I have has the King’s last name. You’re not my family, wild one. Never was. Never will be.”
“Mutual.”
“Glad we agree on that front. Now, you’ll cut off any contact or communication with Ethan — including Agnus.”
“That would be a no.”
“Did you just tell me no?”
“Yes, Jonathan. I don’t know what your deal is, but you don’t get to tell me what to do.”
Silence.
He watches me with that hollow expression that I’m now certain harbours a monster. “Is that so?”
I keep my chin held high, not cutting off eye contact.
Jonathan takes a step forward. My back flattens against the metal of the car door as his chest nearly touches mine. My bare skin tingles, goosebumps erupting at the surface and I have no idea why.
He places a hand near the side of my head, slowly resting it on the car’s metal, and grabs my chin with his free one. My pulse roars in my ears as he cages me in.
There’s no escaping him, even if I try.
Not that I will.
I’m trapped by his sheer presence and held prisoner by the darkened depths of his grey eyes.
It’s like being caught in the eye of a hurricane and all I can do is fall.
Drown.
Down…
Eventually disappear.
That’s what people like Jonathan do. If they wish, they can make you vanish as if you’ve never existed.
The feel of his skin on mine is like being burned from the inside out. No one is supposed to ooze so much control as he does.
It should be forbidden. Illegal.
“This is my first and final warning. Do not keep in contact with Ethan. Understood?”
I want to say no, to shout it, but it’s like my tongue is knotted in itself. I’m too caught up in his close proximity, in his lethal presence and the intimidation he plays so well.
I’m not the type to be intimidated, but this is Jonathan.
He’s in a special category all on his own.
He takes my silence for approval and releases my chin. Instead of leaving my space, he rummages through my bag and yanks out the card I accepted from Ethan.
Before I can stop him, he rips it in four and throws it behind him. The torn pieces fly in the wind.
Then he reaches into his jacket, retrieves his own card, and slips it in on behalf of Ethan’s. “This is the only contact information you need. Call me, apologise for skipping me over, and depending on my mood, I might consider helping you.”
Damn him. Who does the bastard think he is?
He steps back, all physical contact gone, and I finally breathe properly – or try to anyway. I don’t think it’s normal to remind myself to inhale and exhale on a regular basis. But if I don’t, I might stop my oxygen intake altogether.
His eyes roam over me one more time with a suffocating intensity that robs me of breath all over again. I resist the urge to fidget as his gaze pauses at my face. “And then you’ll tell me where you’ve been.”
And with that, he turns and leaves.
I sag against my car, sucking air into my lungs as if I’ve just learnt how to breathe. The act is there, but the weight slamming into me makes it almost impossible to gather my bearings. It’s the first time in ages that I’ve felt so trapped and with no way out.
Didn’t I promise myself I would never be in this position again?
You know what?
Fuck Jonathan King.
No one tells me what to do.
5
Jonathan
Aurora Harper.
Previously Clarissa Griffin.
That’s how I lost her — not that I’ve been actively searching for her. Alicia mentioned in her will that she wanted Clarissa taken care of. Then Clarissa disappeared off the face of the earth.
She couldn’t have been more than sixteen when the whole shitstorm with Maxim Griffin went down. She was a minor, yet she disappeared. I went as far as asking around in the UK Protected Persons Service with underhanded methods and they also said she was a missing person.
It’s like she vanished into thin air.
Granted, I didn’t put my all into searching for her, because I didn’t want a reminder of Alicia right after her death. I needed to move along, and Clarissa would’ve hindered that process.
Still, how dare she disappear then reappear without my permission?
Does she think this is a game? That she can do as she pleases and get away without paying the price?
And Ethan.
That’s a bold move that she’ll be punished for. Eventually.
I slip into the back of my car and find my assistant and right-hand man, Harris.
He’s one of those nerds who’s spent his entire life studying and is a genius, not only with numbers but also with information. He knows everything about everything.
Greeting me with a small nod of his head, he focuses back on his tablet, adjusting his frameless glasses.
“How’s the draft?” I ask.
“Eighty per cent completed. It’s with the legal team and will be ready in two hours.”
“Make it one and tell them to start drafting the additional merger contract.”
“On it.” He types at a rapid-fire pace on his tablet.
“And, Harris?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I need you to look up someone.”
He lifts his head from his affair with the tablet to give me a quizzical glance. The only people I look up are the ones I’ll do business with or whose companies I’ll take over.
Harris doesn’t need a reminder to do that. He forwards me all the relevant information before I even ask for it.
The reason behind his reaction is my change of pattern. He, of all people, knows I follow habits. It’s what maintains the order and control. It lets me rule with an iron fist and without mistakes.
The fact that I’m breaking my own rule is disturbing his usual work methods. But he won’t ask about the reason. And that’s what I like about Harris the most. He keeps the unnecessary rubbish to himself and talks solely in data.
“Name?”
“Aurora Harper. Previously Clarissa Griffin. The daughter of Maxim Griffin, the duct tape killer in Northern England. I need you to tell me everything you know about her.”
I have a premonition she’ll defy me.
My lips twitch fighting a smile.
It’s been a long time since someone dared to challenge me after being given a warning. They usually fall to their knees without as much as a verbal command.