We both laugh, and Aiden throws a glance that suggests he’s not happy to be left out of our conversation.

We try to help him out, but he shoos us away, so we make the table, which is situated near the lounge area.

Elsa and I sit there, sipping wine and staring out the large window that the dining table overlooks. The droplets of rain running down it form long lines and the streetlights give the view a cosy feel.

It is a peaceful night, and I should enjoy it. I could if my heart would stop sinking like an abandoned ship.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted your plans,” I tell Elsa.

She slides the glass of wine on the table. “More like Aiden’s plans, but they’re everyday plans, so he can wait.”

“Are you sure he won’t hate me more?”

“He doesn’t hate you.” She bites her lower lip. “I mean, you’re the woman who tamed Jonathan King. Anyone would respect you for that — Aiden included.”

“I didn’t tame him.” Far from it. If anything, whatever we had has been destroyed since my hallucinations.

“Have you seen the way he’s possessive of your time and attention?”

“That’s because he’s a control freak.”

“Well, that he is, but it’s more. I can tell.”

“You can tell, how?”

“It’s in the little things, you know?”

“The little things?”

She takes a sip of her wine and leans her head on her palm. “Okay, so here’s one. When we sit for family dinners, Jonathan doesn’t touch his food until he makes sure you’re not only settled, but you’ve also started eating.”

“He just likes everyone seated.”

“Jonathan?” She laughs, the sound throaty. “He couldn’t care less about us. He only started that habit when you joined our dinners.”

“Oh.”

“There’s also the way he watches you so you’ll eat or how he snaps at Aiden or Levi whenever they address you. It’s like he doesn’t want your attention divided from him.”

“He snaps at everyone.”

“Not usually. Jonathan is the type who issues orders in the calmest, most frightening way. And he doesn’t actually snap at Aiden and Levi — at least, not when Astrid and I are there.” She grins. “You brought colours to his previously bleak world. I can feel it.”

Her words are supposed to lift my mood, but it flattens at the reminder of what recently happened.

Before Elsa can go on, Aiden re-joins us with plates of pasta and meatballs.

Elsa’s cheeks are red, and mine must be, too, considering this is our second glass of wine.

She tiptoes and kisses Aiden on the mouth, smiling. He deepens it, uncaring for having me as an audience. His arms wrap around her waist and he grabs her by the small of her back as he tongues her with intense passion.

I sigh into my glass of wine, watching them — probably like a creep. At least Aiden shows his emotions freely in front of Elsa. His father is stone-cold and demands punishment for every kiss and night in his bed.

He did kiss you and sleep with you without a punishment last night.

That was before he looked at me that way, so it doesn’t count.

Elsa pulls away, her cheeks coloured crimson. Aiden’s eyes are blazing as if he’ll push her on the table and take her right here and now. That was probably their plan for the night before I interrupted.

As if reading into his intentions, Elsa flops onto her seat, forcing Aiden to do the same. At first, the meal is spent in awkward silence, but Elsa brings up uni and a debate club that Aiden and his best friend named Cole attend.

She complains that they’re only there to make everyone’s lives hell.

Aiden counters that not everyone is boring like her politically correct colleagues.

That gets them both talking and arguing in an adorable kind of way. Or more like, Elsa argues. Aiden seems to rile her up on purpose just to get on her nerves.

“Can you believe this?” Elsa asks me. “Did you have people like this at uni?”

“My best friend, Layla. You met her at that charity. She’s so argumentative and doesn’t like to be ignored. She’s tiny, wears a religious scarf, and appears clueless and soft, so when she made a ruckus in debates, everyone kind of looked at her in awe.”

“She seems so cool,” Elsa says.

“She is.” I’m so proud of that little bugger.

Aiden takes a bite of his food. “Invite her for dinner at Jonathan’s someday.”

“She and Jonathan don’t get along.” I pick at my pasta. “She’s always threatening to practice her black belt karate on him.”

He smirks. “Even better.”

“She does that?” Elsa speaks in a slightly spooked voice.

“Yeah, I swear she has no fear for her life.”

Elsa is about to say something, but the bell rings. She starts to stand, but Aiden gets up first, puts two hands on her shoulders, and sits her back down.

“There’s no way in fuck someone is going to see you drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” she argues.

He pinches her reddened cheek. “Uh-huh.”

Aiden disappears around the corner before she can say anything.

She leans over. “Tell me more about your friend whom Jonathan hasn’t killed yet.”

“She calls him Johnny.” I giggle, then slap a hand over my mouth. Apparently, I’m also drunk.

I try to never get drunk, because that messes with my senses, and I can’t protect myself if I need to, but I guess I feel safe here.

That’s…both weird and comforting.

“No way! And he lets it happen?” Her gaze trails behind me. “Jonathan.”

“He can’t really stop her.” I giggle again and don’t bother to suppress it. “She’s fearless.”

“No,” Elsa whispers. “Jonathan is here.”

I turn around, and sure enough, my tyrant has come to find me.

14

Aurora

For a moment, I think it’s a play of my imagination.

However, the image forms clear in front of me. My blurry vision slowly takes him in from bottom to top. The sophisticated shoes, the pressed suit, the big, masculine watch that gives off the same hard vibe as him.

And then his face. Those sharp features and defined jawline that are meant to cut. His hair appears slightly damp, which means he got caught in the drizzle outside.

It’s only when I’m trapped in his steel eyes that I finally breathe. Or maybe I stop breathing altogether.

I cut off eye contact before I see that look. The one he gave me last night and this morning. The look that guts me open without him having to say a word.

Jonathan slides into the chair beside me with utter confidence, as if Aiden and Elsa’s dining table is an extension of the King mansion. It takes everything in me not to stare at him some more, get lost in him some more. Just…more.

Aiden joins his wife, but before he can sit down, Jonathan’s authoritative tone makes him pause. “Where’s my plate?”

“You weren’t invited. There’s no more food.”

Elsa starts to push her pasta in her father-in-law’s direction. “You can have mine.”