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.
To say I’m not intimidated by the sheer power Jonathan exudes without talking would be a lie. However, I won’t cower away.
He can break my bones and I’ll still squeeze with the intact bones I have left.
“Dad.”
Aiden’s detached voice comes from the side. I was lost in my silent war with Jonathan that I didn’t sense his presence.
That’s a first.
Jonathan’s sharp gaze slides from me to Aiden without breaking the handshake. I stare incredulously at the battle that erupts between Father and son.
Aiden is a carbon copy of the older King. It’s like a battle royale between a larger-than-life power and his younger self.
The king and his heir.
I’m not sure who’s winning or if there needs to be a winner, but the tension hangs in the air like a thick sheen of smoke.
Suffocating.
Mysterious.
Enthralling.
“Have fun with your party, Son.”
Just like that, Jonathan lets me go as smoothly and as predatory as a panther.
“Will do.”
Jonathan smiles like a refined, aristocratic gentleman. Not too welcoming, but also not repulsive. It’s conserved with a hint of the darkness that coats Aiden like a second skin.
The dark demons are in their damn genes.
After giving me another once over, Jonathan starts towards the entrance with domineering strides.
I face Aiden, thinking he’s watching his father like I just did.
Instead, Aiden’s full concentration is on the tray in my shaking hand. He snatches and carries it in his grasp without uttering a word or sparing me a glance.
He strides in the direction Margo and I were heading to.
I massage the hand that Jonathan nearly broke and fall in step with Aiden.
“What was that all about?” I ask.
Silence.
“Aiden?”
More silence, but his strides turn wider.
Did I mention how much it sucks to be on his bad side? Who thought someone like Aiden would use the silent treatment?
I jog and stand in front of him with both my arms flung wide.
He halts and cuts me a glare so harsh, it’s like he’s slicing me open with knives. His knuckles tighten around the tray.
“W-what is it?”
This side of him always puts me on high alert. Aiden isn’t the type who parades his emotions so freely. The fact that he seems close to combusting means something disastrous is bound to happen.
“Say something.” I push when he remains silent yet again.
“Stay away from my father.” He enunciates every word in a near growl.
