by Rina Kent
Jonathan’s hot breath leaves goosebumps on my face as he whispers in a low, almost threatening tone, “Long time no see, Aurora. Or should I call you Clarissa?”
4
Aurora
I’m trapped.
This sensation of being in a confined place with no way out was supposed to be over eleven years ago.
I’m supposed to be free.
But am I? Really?
I step away from Jonathan’s clutches, and that leaves me with my back against the closed door of my car.
Jonathan towers over me like a large wall. I miscalculated his height. I’m not short by any means, yet in order to meet his gaze, I have to tilt my head up.
I have to step out of my comfort zone and pay the price for the risk I took.
Clarissa.
He remembers. Why does he remember a name he’s only heard twice in his damn life?
Alicia wouldn’t have talked about me. She came to see me in secret and told me it was our private little world that no one needed to know about. We even did it behind my father’s back as I grew up.
We only shared a mother who died soon after I was born, and then Alicia wanted to fulfil that role.
She tried to, anyway.
But I was already acquainted with the devil and I had no way out. Nothing Alicia could’ve done would’ve saved me. If anything, it might’ve accelerated her death.
Bottom line is, Jonathan shouldn’t care about my existence, let alone remember my old name.
“Aurora. My name is just Aurora Harper now.”
He remains motionless like a mountain. “I see you’re killing your association with Maxim Griffin.”
Black images assault my head. The cries. The shouts. The assault of the angry crowd.
My bottom lip trembles and I trap it under my teeth to put a halt to it.
“Don’t.” I wrap a hand around my waist and hug myself. The old scar is way underneath my clothes, but I feel the burn as if it’s happening right now.
“Don’t?” he repeats.
“Don’t say his name.”
“That doesn’t erase him from existence.”
“Just don’t. Stop it.”
“I might consider it if you tell me something.”
“What?”
“Where have you been, Clarissa? I mean, Aurora.”
“Why should I tell you?”
He tilts his head to the side, watching me for a few seconds without blinking. Being under Jonathan’s brutal scrutiny is like kneeling in a king’s court, waiting to be judged.
“You think you can show up out of nowhere, at my son’s wedding, no less, and pretend like nothing happened?”
Yes.
But now that I hear it in that haughty, almost condescending voice, I feel like I was being childish for ever thinking that.
“Let’s pretend we never met,” I try in my soft tone.
“I don’t pretend.” He steps closer, purposefully invading my personal space as if it’s his God-given right. “So how about you tell me what the fuck you were doing with Ethan?”
“Nothing.”
“Try again, and this time, don’t lie to me. If you do, I’ll take it as in you’re ready to bear the consequences.”
I could lie to him and get myself out of this pinch, but that will only take me so far. I might not have seen Jonathan in person for twenty years, but his name can’t be escaped in this country or even in the international business scene.
He’s an investor. A commander. A ruler.
If he sets his sights on something, there’s no stopping him until he either gets it or ruins it.
Black or white. There’s no grey in his dictionary.
And for that reason, I need to tactfully slip out from under his radar as smoothly as I was trapped within it. I crossed the enemy’s lines by mistake and now, I need to find the safest way out.
I suck in a deep breath. “Business.”
“What type of business?”
“Just business.”
“Did you not hear me ask what type of business it is? I do not like repeating myself, Aurora.”
Damn him and the authoritative way he speaks. It’s like he expects everyone to fall at his feet with a simple command.
I might not want to provoke Jonathan on purpose, but I will not get on my knees in front of him.
Not now. Not ever.
I’m done with kneeling for a lifetime.
“It’s nothing that concerns you.”
“Nothing that concerns me, but it concerns Ethan. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“No?” I repeat with a confusion that must be written all over my face.
“You’ll end whatever business venture you have with Ethan.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I said so, wild one.”
Is he fucking kidding me? He’s not. I know Jonathan isn’t the type who jokes around, but does he honestly believe I would follow simply because he ordered?
So what if he has power? It’s not absolute. Nothing and no one is.
I lift my chin. “And if I say no?”
“Then we’ll do it my way.” A small smile lifts his lips. His sensual, well-proportioned lips.
And now, I’m staring at his lips.
Stop staring at his lips.
I lift my gaze to his and the whole image is clear. He’s not even smiling, and it’s downright menacing. This is the look of a man who’s preparing for a battle.
A man who’s so used to war that peace bores him.
And I’m another battlefield in his path of conquering.
So no, it’s not a smile. It’s a declaration of something sinister and potent.
“Why would you care who I do business with, Jonathan?” Last time I checked, he wasn’t my guardian.
“You think you can skip me in my own territory and choose someone else to do business with? And not just anyone, but Ethan. What’s your message there? Are you trying to challenge me?”
“No.” That’s the last thing I want.
“Then why didn’t you come to me?”
“I don’t like mixing familial affairs with business.” And I hate him for the way Alicia died. If I didn’t know he would overpower me, I’d punch him in the face and relieve the tension I’ve been carrying for eleven years.
“The only family I have has the King’s last name. You’re not my family, wild one. Never was. Never will be.”
“Mutual.”
“Glad we agree on that front. Now, you’ll cut off any contact or communication with Ethan — including Agnus.”
“That would be a no.”
“Did you just tell me no?”
“Yes, Jonathan. I don’t know what your deal is, but you don’t get to tell me what to do.”
Silence.
He watches me with that hollow expression that I’m now certain harbours a monster. “Is that so?”
I keep my chin held high, not cutting off eye contact.
Jonathan takes a step forward. My back flattens against the metal of the car door as his chest nearly touches mine. My bare skin tingles, goosebumps erupting at the surface and I have no idea why.
He places a hand near the side of my head, slowly resting it on the car’s metal, and grabs my chin with his free one. My pulse roars in my ears as he cages me in.
There’s no escaping him, even if I try.
Not that I will.
I’m trapped by his sheer presence and held prisoner by the darkened depths of his grey eyes.
It’s like being caught in the eye of a hurricane and all I can do is fall.
Drown.
Down…
Eventually disappear.
That’s what people like Jonathan do. If they wish, they can make you vanish as if you’ve never existed.
The feel of his skin on mine is like being burned from the inside out. No one is supposed to ooze so much control as he does.
It should be forbid
den. Illegal.
“This is my first and final warning. Do not keep in contact with Ethan. Understood?”
I want to say no, to shout it, but it’s like my tongue is knotted in itself. I’m too caught up in his close proximity, in his lethal presence and the intimidation he plays so well.
I’m not the type to be intimidated, but this is Jonathan.
He’s in a special category all on his own.
He takes my silence for approval and releases my chin. Instead of leaving my space, he rummages through my bag and yanks out the card I accepted from Ethan.
Before I can stop him, he rips it in four and throws it behind him. The torn pieces fly in the wind.
Then he reaches into his jacket, retrieves his own card, and slips it in on behalf of Ethan’s. “This is the only contact information you need. Call me, apologise for skipping me over, and depending on my mood, I might consider helping you.”
Damn him. Who does the bastard think he is?
He steps back, all physical contact gone, and I finally breathe properly – or try to anyway. I don’t think it’s normal to remind myself to inhale and exhale on a regular basis. But if I don’t, I might stop my oxygen intake altogether.
His eyes roam over me one more time with a suffocating intensity that robs me of breath all over again. I resist the urge to fidget as his gaze pauses at my face. “And then you’ll tell me where you’ve been.”
And with that, he turns and leaves.
I sag against my car, sucking air into my lungs as if I’ve just learnt how to breathe. The act is there, but the weight slamming into me makes it almost impossible to gather my bearings. It’s the first time in ages that I’ve felt so trapped and with no way out.
Didn’t I promise myself I would never be in this position again?
You know what?
Fuck Jonathan King.
No one tells me what to do.
5
Jonathan
Aurora Harper.
Previously Clarissa Griffin.
That’s how I lost her — not that I’ve been actively searching for her. Alicia mentioned in her will that she wanted Clarissa taken care of. Then Clarissa disappeared off the face of the earth.
She couldn’t have been more than sixteen when the whole shitstorm with Maxim Griffin went down. She was a minor, yet she disappeared. I went as far as asking around in the UK Protected Persons Service with underhanded methods and they also said she was a missing person.
It’s like she vanished into thin air.
Granted, I didn’t put my all into searching for her, because I didn’t want a reminder of Alicia right after her death. I needed to move along, and Clarissa would’ve hindered that process.
Still, how dare she disappear then reappear without my permission?
Does she think this is a game? That she can do as she pleases and get away without paying the price?
And Ethan.
That’s a bold move that she’ll be punished for. Eventually.
I slip into the back of my car and find my assistant and right-hand man, Harris.
He’s one of those nerds who’s spent his entire life studying and is a genius, not only with numbers but also with information. He knows everything about everything.
Greeting me with a small nod of his head, he focuses back on his tablet, adjusting his frameless glasses.
“How’s the draft?” I ask.
“Eighty per cent completed. It’s with the legal team and will be ready in two hours.”
“Make it one and tell them to start drafting the additional merger contract.”
“On it.” He types at a rapid-fire pace on his tablet.
“And, Harris?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I need you to look up someone.”
He lifts his head from his affair with the tablet to give me a quizzical glance. The only people I look up are the ones I’ll do business with or whose companies I’ll take over.
Harris doesn’t need a reminder to do that. He forwards me all the relevant information before I even ask for it.
The reason behind his reaction is my change of pattern. He, of all people, knows I follow habits. It’s what maintains the order and control. It lets me rule with an iron fist and without mistakes.
The fact that I’m breaking my own rule is disturbing his usual work methods. But he won’t ask about the reason. And that’s what I like about Harris the most. He keeps the unnecessary rubbish to himself and talks solely in data.
“Name?”
“Aurora Harper. Previously Clarissa Griffin. The daughter of Maxim Griffin, the duct tape killer in Northern England. I need you to tell me everything you know about her.”
I have a premonition she’ll defy me.
My lips twitch fighting a smile.
It’s been a long time since someone dared to challenge me after being given a warning. They usually fall to their knees without as much as a verbal command.
Let’s see how Aurora will react.
Whatever path she chooses will only lead back to me.
Where she was supposed to be eleven fucking years ago.
6
Aurora
The following day, I go to work with fresh motivation.
I spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed, mad at myself for letting Jonathan treat me as his property or a small child. No idea which pissed me off the most, but they both left me boiling in pent-up rage.
So I decided to completely ignore him.
Yes, he tore Ethan’s card, but I have direct contact with Agnus, which is the next best thing.
Today, I’m going to continue concept designing and forget about the bank’s axe that’s hovering over our necks like a guillotine.
They’re only holding off the auctioning of the stocks because we begged them. ‘We,’ as in me and my partner in crime.
Speaking of which, I swing by her office, juggling two caramel iced coffees. The reason we’re friends, as she likes to remind me.
She’s not there.
I greet my workers good morning, keeping my face devoid of the anxiety I see radiating off them. The atmosphere here has been grim and tense for a few months now.
The factory has been working irregularly lately and the bank’s workers have come to define its value.
Employees gossip, no matter how much we try to convince them that we’ll get H&H out of this funk.
Some even started to request days off to search for another job. I don’t blame them. After all, they need to earn a living, and if this situation we’re in continues, we’ll be forced to let some of them go.
The moment I open my office, I’m greeted by the sound of Don’t Look Back in Anger by Oasis. Layla’s taste in music is kind of stuck in the past and she still mourns the band’s break up.
My partner and best friend stands in front of the transparent board, scribbling at supersonic speed.
She has a tiny frame, so when she wears baggy trousers and oversized hoodies, she appears like a street hip-hop singer — a fact she’s proud of that since she considers herself street-made through and through.
Her hair is covered by a scarf, tucked elegantly at her neck. Layla is also a devoted Muslim and a third-generation British citizen. Her father is of Pakistani heritage and her mother is Tunisian.
As a result, her skin tone is a shade darker than her Caucasian mother’s and lighter than her South Asian father’s. She has the smoothest skin I’ve ever seen, outside of Photoshopped advertisements, and her huge brown eyes can show you the world if you stare at them hard enough.
“Oasis this early in the morning?”
She reaches out to me without lifting her head. “My iced coffee, mate.”
“Here.” I push it into her hand and we take a slurp at the same time, then sigh.
I stand beside her in front of the board. She’s writing up her marketing plan — the one we’ll need if we get investments.
When we first started this adventure straight af
ter graduating from uni, we agreed that I’d take care of the designing side of the business and she’d do the marketing because she’s a genius at that.
Five years later, we were killing it. Our company had gone from two people to more than one hundred. We made that happen. Just Layla and I. Until that bastard Jake ruined what we built in years in a matter of months.
“This is the best.” She takes another slurp. “I feel more energised and ready to kick butt.”
“You must’ve had some coffee already.”
“I need two to fully wake up. Remember dorm days?”
“Ugh.” I used to literally splash her with water so she’d wake up and not be late for class.
“Uh-huh. Exactly.”
“Looks good.” I motion at the board.
“Not good enough, but forget about that.” She takes my hand and leads me to the sofa opposite my desk, then tells Alexa to stop playing the music. “How did it go yesterday?”
“I told you.”
“A text in the middle of the night that says, ‘I think we’re good, talk to you tomorrow’ explains rubbish. I need details.”
“Lay…”
“All of them,” she speaks like a stern mother and I sigh, then tell her the gist of what went down yesterday and the dreadful meeting with Jonathan. I’d previously told her that the mere thought of that particular encounter scared the shit out of me.
“Bollocks,” she breathes out after I’m finished.
“Bollocks indeed.”
“So your nephew really called you Mum?”
“Seriously, Lay?”
“What? I think that’s cute.”
“Aiden is anything but cute. He’s the mini version of his father.”
“So what’s the problem here?”
“Jonathan threatened me. If I go through with this with Ethan, he’ll come after me.”
“Not if you have Ethan’s protection.”
My brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
She takes a generous gulp of her iced coffee and crosses one leg over the sofa, fully facing me. “Okay, listen up. So Jonathan is like this big bad wolf, right? Guess who can kill a wolf?”
“A hunter?”
