Rise of a Queen (Kingdom Duet #2) by Rina Kent

“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.”

Aiden presses his palm over hers, gently stopping her. “Nonsense. I’ll get him a plate.”

Jonathan raises a perfect brow. “I thought there was no more food.”

His son narrows his eyes on him for a beat before he disappears into the kitchen.

“How did you find me?” I whisper what I’m thinking.

This is another reason why I don’t drink. My inhibitions kind of disappear, and sometimes, I don’t know when I’m thinking aloud.

“I always know where you are.” He removes his jacket, places it on the chair beside him, and loosens his tie. “You don’t really think you can escape me, do you?”

I should focus on what he’s saying, but my entire attention is robbed by the way his lean, masculine fingers glide over the tie, wrapping around it. Tugging on it.

Why am I not that tie?

As if answering my thought, Jonathan’s knuckles glide over my cheek, turning up the heat a notch. “You’re warm. Have you been drinking?”

I motion at my half-empty third glass. “A little?”

His gaze holds mine, and I’m caged in the moment. It’s like he’s taking me hostage, and I can’t, under any circumstances, find a way out.

Not that I want to.

Aiden re-joins us and places the plate in front of his father — not so gently, might I add. Jonathan takes a moment before he drops his hand from my cheek.

“What is this supposed to be?” Jonathan asks as he stares at the pasta with meatballs.

“Food. Eat it.” Aiden pauses. “Or don’t.”

“You made it?”

“So what if I did?”

“Is it edible?”

“It is,” both Elsa and I say at the same time, then we break down in giggles.

Jonathan throws me an indecipherable glance before he takes a tentative bite of his food. Although Aiden pretends to be focused on his plate, his gaze keeps filtering back to his father.

The latter says nothing, but he keeps eating, which means he likes it. Jonathan is a tyrant and picky in everything — food included. He wouldn’t have continued if he didn’t like it.

Elsa asks Aiden to pass her the salt, and he says no because it’s not good for her health. Elsa tells him he’s being too much.

While they’re busy arguing, I lean over to Jonathan until his woodsy scent smothers me and murmur, “Tell him you like it.”

He turns his head so his lips are mere inches away from mine. His attention remains on my mouth as he whispers back, “What was that?”

I gulp at the heated look in his eyes. It’s so different from the one he gave me this morning. Maybe that one will never appear again? Or is this wishful thinking because I’m drunk. “The pasta. Tell Aiden you like it. That would mean so much to him.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do.”

Even though he doesn’t show it — and never would — Aiden does care about his father’s approval, in a way. There’s just a deep hole between father and son that’s almost impossible to mend, and after talking with Aiden, I’m certain it started after Alicia’s death. Instead of fulfilling child Aiden’s emotional needs, Jonathan brought him up to be just like him. Impenetrable, hard, controlling. In his mind, he probably wanted his son to be the best, like everything about his own life. However, I don’t think Aiden knows that. I feel like he thinks his father doesn’t care about him in any other way, except for the fact that he’s his heir.