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The sneak.
My dead wife’s little sister.
5
Aurora
Oh, no.
No, no, no.
He wasn’t supposed to come now, of all times.
My gaze is held captive by his darker, grim one. He doesn’t even blink or show any reaction.
Jonathan stands a small distance away, but he might as well be wrapping his hands around my throat
in a tight noose.
A sharp tux flatters his broad frame and highlights his long legs. It’s almost as if he’s in his late thirties instead of his mid-forties. His appearance is taut, hard, and fierce — like everything about him.
His midnight-coloured hair is styled back, revealing a strong forehead and an angular jawline that could cut me in half if I get any nearer. A slight stubble covers his face, giving him an older, harsher, and untouchable feel.
The king.
Literally.
Figuratively.
It’s more than his last name and all about his power that knows no limits.
The queen? Forget about her. She does nothing in the real world. It’s the likes of Jonathan King who toys with the economy like it’s his personal chessboard.
The prime minister? Forget about him, too. Jonathan was the main sponsor of his campaign and that should explain everything about how far his influence can reach. It’s scary to think what else he could have under his control.
Or if there’s anything that isn’t.
Of all things, running into Jonathan King is the risk I took when I came to the wedding of his son — my nephew — who doesn’t even know I exist.
Here’s hoping Jonathan doesn’t either. We only met that one time, during his wedding to Alicia. There was also that phone call, but it was so long ago. Surely he doesn’t remember me.
I remember him, though. I don’t think it’s possible to erase the few memories I have of him.
Jonathan has a presence that creeps up on you out of the blue and soon enough, it takes over everything in your surroundings. It’s the bombing from an aeroplane.
The sound of thunder.
The eruption of a volcano.
And that? That’s not even close to forgettable. For so many people, meeting Jonathan is the highlight of their existence.
At his wedding, I was young. Seven. He was twenty-four. But I clearly recall how larger than life he looked.
Like a god.
I couldn’t stop staring at him while hiding behind Alicia’s wedding dress. I dug my little fingers into the cloth and peeked up at him, making her laugh in that radiant way that warmed my chest. She told me I didn’t need to hide and that he was family now.
I did, though.
