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His home office is bland with black and brown sofas and bookshelves. He even has a glass chessboard on the coffee table between me and Elsa.
If he isn’t a replica of Jonathan, I don’t know who is.
Elsa’s legs are snapped closed together as she stares at her lap, her shoes, her jacket. Anything but me or her father. Concern radiates off her in waves and prickles my skin.
I meet Ethan’s stare with a neutral one. He’s trying to intimidate me with silence so when he speaks, I’ll have no choice but to fall at his feet.
Jonathan used to do that, too, until he realised the tactic doesn’t work on me.
Manipulation affects neurotypical people, not me.
“What are your intentions with my daughter?”
He goes straight to the bullseye. I can respect that about him. I like direct opponents.
“Intentions?” I repeat to get a rise out of him.
“You know exactly what I mean.” He plops both his elbows on the desk and leans forward like an emperor planning his attack. “Jonathan must’ve ordered you to ruin her life.”
“How…” Elsa clears her throat. “How do you know that, Dad?”
“I know everything about you, princess.” He smiles at her, but his expression hardens when he focuses back on me.
While Ethan and Jonathan are two facets of the same coin, there’s one difference. Ethan looks at Elsa like she’s his world. He’s doing everything to protect her and her legacy.
Jonathan doesn’t.
His world has turned bleak and sharp since Alicia’s death. Everything he cares about is revenge and power. I doubt he’d bat an eye if either Levi or I fall in the process.
As long as one King remains to carry on with his legacy, he’s all good.
“My intentions towards your daughter are simple,” I say with the calmest, most determined voice I can manage. “She’s mine.”
“Aiden!” she hisses.
I lift a shoulder. I won’t lie to Ethan. Not about this. He needs to know that I’ll fight for her. I’m ready to fight him, Jonathan, and the entire fucking world.
Hell. I’m ready to fight her if she doesn’t snap out of her stubbornness. It used to be adorable, now it’s pissing me off.
I expected Ethan to stand up and throw me out of his house. In all honesty, I wouldn’t be surprised if he sics his dogs on me.
However, he just watches me.
The contempt in his gaze would’ve made me angsty if I weren’t brought up to handle these types of situations.
Stressful, intimidating encounters do nothing to those with the King surname. We were taught to overcome them before we learnt to ride a bike.
Elsa shifts uncomfortably in her seat, smoothing her already perfectly pressed jacket.
The twitch in her nose when she’s stressed out is too cute for words. Now, I’m itching to touch that nose, kiss it, lick it.
“What does Jonathan think about that?” Ethan’s question brings me back from my fantasies about his daughter’s nose.
“What Jonathan thinks doesn’t matter.” I don’t miss a beat.
“Does he know that?”
“He knows everything.”
