Chapter 12: Rise of a Queen: Chapter 12

She’s like Alicia.

Just like Alicia.

Do you remember when she used to make things up?

It’s not only a resemblance in their features. They must’ve inherited the wrong genes from their mother.

The voices collapse and blend together. I think I can catch them, but the moment I reach out a hand, I fall.

Down.

Down…

I jerk awake, sweat covering my skin. For a second, I can’t figure out where I am, but then, soon enough, the familiar sensual scent fills my nostrils. Woodsy and airy. A strange sense of peace envelops me like a cocoon.

Jonathan’s room. It’s dark since the curtains are drawn, but I can feel it without having to search hard.

I vaguely recall strong arms wrapping around me from behind in the middle of the night. Or was that also a play of my imagination?

My breathing turns harsh and shallow as I recall what happened last night and the way Jonathan looked at me.

Why did he look at me like that?

I feel like I’ll be old and grey and I’ll never forget the disappointment in his eyes, and was it also…disgust?

The door barges open, and I squint as the light in the hallway hits me.

“Your knight in shining armour is here, mate!”

I smile despite myself at Layla’s voice. I’ve never been so happy to see her in my life as I am this moment.

She’s wearing baggy trousers and a hoodie on which is written, If You’re Happy and You Know It, Stay Away. Her expression plummets when she focuses on me. “What happened to your palms and lip?”

“I fell.”

“F that. It was Johnny, wasn’t it? I’m going to sue his arse. I’m dragging that dictator into court.”

“It wasn’t him.”

She narrows her eyes, slowly approaching me. “Are you protecting him or something?”

“Why would I do that? Now, come here. I missed you.”

She practically jogs my way, then engulfs me in a hug. It’s the first time Layla has ever initiated a hug and I know not to take it lightly.

“I was so worried about you,” she speaks into my neck. “I was legit planning to stab Johnny in the throat so I could see you.”

I already did that.

My heart falls at the reminder of blood and the cut and everything. Circling my arms around her slender back, I hug her and we remain like that for a while as I fight the tears trying to break loose.

I sniffle, and Layla pulls away. “Hey…what’s wrong?”

“Everything?”

“It’s that piece of S, Johnny, isn’t it? I’m totally kicking him in the nose.”

“Stop it, Lay.”

“What do you mean by stop it? He locked you up!”

“No, I mean, yeah, but it was complicated. I need to ask you about something.”

“There’s nothing complicated about locking someone up. That shit is no bueno, mate. And then the arsehole forbids me from coming here? Yeah, not going to happen. Not in this life.”

“Lay, focus.”

“What?”

“When I first moved in with Jonathan, did I tell you about the packages with no sender I used to receive at my old flat’s address?”

“I think you said something about changing your mailing address because it was annoying to go back and forth.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Did I mention a flash drive and Alicia’s messages? I said I agreed to Jonathan’s deal because I wanted to know the truth behind her death.”

“You did, totally, and I said, don’t do it, but you went on with it anyway. No one listens to Layla.”

“You remember the messages.” My voice is so full of hope, it’s pathetic.

“I have no clue about any messages. You said you hold a grudge against Johnny because you think your sister died because of him.”

“I never mentioned the voice messages I received?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

“What voices messages?” she whispers, as if this is a conspiracy theory.

“N-nothing.” I don’t want Lay to also think I’m crazy.

Am I? I’m not, right?

She fixes me with that overdramatic scrutinising look she learnt from detective shows. “What are you hiding from me? Spill.”

“I will. J-just not now, okay?” I pause, then blurt to deviate her attention, “Did Jonathan call you?”

“Yup. Seven in the morning like a damn alarm — not that I slept. I spent the entire night plotting his demise. He thought he could lock you up and have his happily ever after? Nuh-uh, not happening.”

Not that she could’ve done anything to him, but the fact that she didn’t give up on me warms my heart.

“I even brought backup.”

“What type of backup?”

She grins with pure mischievousness. “Johnny doesn’t get to chase me away, then call me over as if I’m his lap dog.”

“What did you do, Lay?”

“Relax. I only shuffled his cards with the one person he hates.”

Recognition settles in. “You didn’t.”

“Totes did.” Her grin widens. “I brought my Daddy.”

I jump to my feet. “Lay! What if they go against each other?”

“You think they would? Oh em gee, I should’ve stayed to watch.”

“You’re…” I point a finger at her, lost for words.

“The best?” She flutters her lashes. “Your ride or die?”

“I’ll deal with you later.”

“Mate, wait!” she calls after me, but I’m already flying down the stairs, not bothering with shoes.

If my vague memories from last night were real, Jonathan barely slept. It was close to four in the morning when he spooned me from behind. The last thing he needs is a quarrel with Ethan at the start of his day.

There’s no doubt in my mind that they’ll go at each other’s throats. Ethan might act cool, but he doesn’t hesitate to take a jab at Jonathan — in fact, he makes it his mission. As for my tyrant, well, he has no tolerance for Ethan whatsoever and he doesn’t shy away from showing it.

He even projects that hostility at Elsa, just for the fact that she shares DNA with Ethan.

Sure enough, clipped voices filter in from the main lounge area at the entrance of the King mansion.

“You’re not welcome here, Ethan. Leave.”

“Layla is worried about Aurora and I can’t leave without making sure she’s safe.”

“Her safety and her entire existence are none of your fucking concern.” Jonathan’s voice turns eerily calm but with a threatening undertone. “Don’t look at her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t fucking breathe near her.”

A chuckle comes from Ethan. “And if I refuse?”

“Let the answer to that be a surprise.”

“Are you threatening me, Jon?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? Jon? That’s what I used to call you back in the day.”

“You lost the right to call me that a long time ago, you fucking bastard.”

“I lost my wife, too.” Ethan’s tone hardens.

“Not before she locked up and tortured my son, whom, should I remind you, you kidnapped.”

“That’s because you burned my whole fucking factory, Jonathan. People died. Aiden didn’t.”

“Alicia did.”

“So did Abigail. So did I, for nine years, in case you forgot.”

I arrive in time to find the two men standing toe-to-toe with each other. Jonathan’s the first to look my way.

His eyes instantly darken to a terrifying colour. I remain frozen in place from the mere force of it.

What? What is it?

I stare down at myself and realise that not only have I come down barefoot, but I’m also wearing the flimsy nightgown from last night. My hair must appear like a mess and so must my face.

In my attempt to stop whatever war they were going to unleash, I’ve shown up like this.

Layla catches up to me, panting. “People with long legs suck.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I came down looking like this?” I hiss at her.

“I tried. You didn’t listen.”

I’m about to say something else when a large presence appears in front of me.

Jonathan.

I don’t know why my heart skips a violent beat whenever he looks down at me with those steel eyes. It’s like I’m the only thing that matters in his environment and he doesn’t hesitate to show that fact.

Then why did he regard me last night as if I were insane?

Shooing that thought away, I take a moment to appreciate how elegant and larger than life he appears in his black tailored suit. Seriously, if he ever considers a career in modelling, he’ll ace it — like everything in his life, basically.

I never knew I had a thing for men in suits until Jonathan came along. Or more accurately, he’s the only man in a suit that I have a thing for.

Though a thing is putting it mildly. My nipples tighten against the thin nightgown at the view, and something tells me it’s not due to the cold air coming from the entrance.

Jonathan removes his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders, and then he picks me up and carries me in his arms.

Just like that.

Just like it’s a given.

A soft gasp leaves me, but the sound is swallowed by how warm he feels, how good he smells.

Will I ever get used to this? Worse, will I ever forget about this?

Layla makes a face at Jonathan’s back, obviously still holding a grudge about the way he chased her away. Ethan’s lips pull up into a mysterious smile as he watches us like a cat who’s caught a mouse.

Jonathan takes me back to the room, his strides firm and purposeful. He walks with the same confidence he exudes — there’s no hint of doubt. But this time, it’s almost as if he’s angry.

He lowers me to the ground, my bare feet getting swallowed by the plush carpet, then he kicks the door shut.

When he faces me, I’m pinned in place by the darkness in his gaze.

It’s almost as if he’s been saving it and he’s now unleashing it.

By the time he speaks, his voice is clipped and non-negotiable. “Don’t you ever, and I mean ever, show up dressed like that in front of Ethan or any other man. Is that understood?”

The possessiveness in his tone turns my skin hot and tingly.

“I said, is that fucking understood, Aurora?”

All I can do is nod.

Seeming satisfied with the answer, the edge slightly leaves his features. “Why did you come down anyway?”

“I…I didn’t want you to fight with Ethan first thing in the morning.”

The slight ease vanishes and he closes down like the vault he is. “Worried about him?”

When I don’t answer, he reaches me in two long strides and wraps a hand around my throat. “Are you?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“I…you…you barely slept last night.” My lips tremble. “Right?”

His expression is unreadable, and I expect him to confirm that I’m insane, but he loosens his hold on my throat. “Right.”

Right. I didn’t make that up. He did sleep beside me. He wasn’t disgusted with me to the point he didn’t want to touch me.

Does that mean I didn’t make up those voices either?

“Come on.” He takes me by the wrist so as not to hurt my palm. “Let me help with the shower so you can get ready.”

“Get ready for what?”

“Don’t you have to go to work?”

A long breath leaves me. Not because he’s giving me back my freedom — because, in a way, I knew Jonathan would keep his word — but because of the fact that he didn’t bring up the part where he thinks I’m crazy.

But then he stares at me over his shoulder and gives me that look again.

The pity.

The disappointment.

He…he’s going to get rid of me, isn’t he?

Just like Alicia.