by Rina Kent
Harris motions at her without saying anything.
“Continue.” I rest her head on my lap and her hand grips my thigh as she resumes her sleep.
I keep stroking her hair while she nuzzles her head into my thigh.
It’s a single moment in time. Something that happens with no prior planning, but in this second, I decide something I’ve never thought about in my life.
Aurora or Clarissa or whatever name she goes with is now fucking mine.
Literally.
Figuratively.
In every sense of the word.
28
Aurora
I finally received another recording.
It’s been weeks since the last one. Damn weeks. I almost gave up on the hope that there would be something else.
The moment Paul called and told me I had a wooden box package, I drove to my flat so fast, I wouldn’t be surprised if a speeding ticket shows up in my inbox.
I sit in the middle of my lounge area, finger hovering over the Play button on my remote.
Unlike the previous times, I’m not so ecstatic about listening to my sister’s voice.
It’s the guilt, isn’t it? It’s catching up to me in every step I take. With every orgasm Jonathan wrenches out of me, and every slap of his hand against my arse.
It’s been weeks of being dominated by him in ways that make me not only delirious, but also beg for more.
Weeks of scorching hot meals and games where he ends up getting what he wants — which is usually my body.
Weeks of running me hot baths where he loosens me up just so he can fuck me all over again.
And with every week, the fact that he was my sister’s husband starts to fade away and becomes white noise.
Every day, I have to remind myself that I can’t get lost in Jonathan and that, besides H&H, the sole reason I agreed to the deal is to uncover the facts behind Alicia’s death.
The problem is, I started to forget about the deal altogether. In the beginning, I counted the days, but now, I vaguely remember that it’s been about six weeks since I started this journey.
Six weeks of rediscovering my body.
Six weeks of feeling.
Six weeks of forgetting about the outside world whenever Jonathan is in sight.
Or even in my thoughts.
I haven’t been thinking about Dad at all, despite the threat of him being granted parole. And that says something.
It’s like Jonathan is sucking my soul into a different dimension than the one we currently live in.
Chasing him away from my thoughts, I hit Play and sit on the sofa opposite the TV.
As usual, there’s a long silence before Alicia’s voice fills my flat. “I haven’t been truthful with you about the past, Claire. You know our mother had a one-night stand with your father, but you don’t know why she did it. Her husband, Papa, was an abusive man. And while I escaped his wrath sometimes, Mother never did. That’s why she killed herself. I was the one who found her sleeping peacefully in her bed with an empty bottle of pills lying by her side. Her will mentioned two specific things; one of them about you. I’m sorry I never told you about it before, but in my mind, I was protecting you. Her will states that she left all her properties to me. The second and only other item on that list was that I needed to cut all contact with you. Our own mother wanted us apart, Claire, and it was for a reason.”
The audio goes dead.
I keep staring at the screen as if it’ll magically resume or explain Alicia’s words.
Mum wanted us apart?
Granted, I never had a mother. I knew my biological mother had a one-night stand with Dad, and the moment she gave birth to me, she threw me in front of Dad’s doorstep and disappeared into the night like she was never there.
My start in this world was just like that. Unwanted. Thrown away. A shame.
When Alicia first came to see me, I was three years old and she was seventeen. I remember it so well, that first meeting. I remember the fascination and how I inched closer to her until her summer scent mixed with marshmallow and vanilla enveloped me. I remember the way we smiled at each other like we always knew we were meant to cross paths.
Alicia said that she found out by chance that she had a sister and confronted our mother to tell her where I was.
After that, Alicia made it a habit to visit me. Mum never did. No matter how many letters I secretly sent her.
With time, I stopped sending them and gave up trying to reach a mother who never once looked in my direction. I reached a point where I was content with having Alicia. She was the only mother figure I ever had.
There was never a day where Alicia pulled away from me. If anything, she’s the one who showered me with affection and love.
Mum died when I was five and Alicia was nineteen. Dad told me we weren’t allowed to attend the funeral.
I cried that day, not because of Mum, but because of the pain Alicia was going through on her own.
That same day, Alicia came to me and hugged me to sleep as we cried together. It was the first and last time Alicia spent the night with me.
She took me to London twice after that. First, to say goodbye to Mum’s grave, and again, on her wedding day.
That second time, she came to my school and picked me up. She bought me ice cream and a beautiful tulle dress with ribbons and lace.
After I attended her wedding, Dad came to London and fought with her.
I listened to their exchange from my position behind Dad’s truck. When he drove me away, Alicia was crying.
I wanted to cry, too, because I didn’t want to leave her. I wanted to stay with her and her new husband who looked like a god.
Alicia never tried to take me to London again. She came to visit me in Leeds, either weekly or bi-weekly, and we spent time together. Then she would leave at the end of the day and that was it.
Alicia never complied with our mother’s will or stayed away, so what did she mean by telling me that?
Was it because of Dad?
Did Mum already know what type of monster Dad actually was?
But she couldn’t have. They met a long time ago. Before he started killing…or was it after he started?
My head hurts just thinking about it. I won’t get caught up in that loop.
Because judging by the way things are heading, it seems like Dad has something to do with it. To know more, I’ll have to ask him, and that means seeing him.
The thought brings a sour taste to my mouth.
I don’t want to meet that devil until the day I die. The moment he sees me, he’ll kill and bury me in the grave he dug up that no bodies were found in.
My phone vibrates and I startle out of my trance. I expect it to be Layla since we had plans to go over the new accountant report together. We’ve become stricter about that since the last accountant’s backstabbing.
It’s not my best friend, though. It’s Jonathan.
I swallow. He rarely calls. If ever. He’s the type who likes to lash out orders in person or via email.
Clearing my throat, I answer.
“You’re late.”
“Hello to you, too.”
“Late, Aurora,” he repeats. “Are you craving some punishment tonight?”
I hate how my legs snap together at the promise. He’s turned me into a nymphomaniac, I swear.
“What have I done?” I ask.
“Do you or do you not recall that we have a family dinner tonight?”
“Oh.”
“Right. Oh. I expect you to be here in ten.” He pauses. “And don’t wear red lipstick. I don’t want the two punks to see you that way.”
I smile despite myself. The subtle way Jonathan shows possessiveness always brings me a sense of power.
He shows it sometimes when I bicker with Harris and make fun of his snobby expressionless face. Jonathan usually shuts him down like a toddler. Doesn’t mean his right-hand man stops trying to prove to me that he can smile. He can’t.
My good mood disappears as the reality of what awaits me sneaks up on me out of nowhere.
Family dinner.
Jonathan decided we’d have dinner with Aiden, Levi, and their wives. I know it’s his way of keeping me from going to Ethan’s house or having any meals with him, but that doesn’t deny the reality of what I’ll have to face.
Family.
It’s not mine, but it’s still…family. Jonathan’s, to be more specific.
And from what I’ve heard, both his son and nephew are replicas of him — cold, ruthless, and calculating.
Aiden hasn’t even spoken to me since that day he threatened me to leave. I haven’t had any interaction with Levi, although I heard Margot mention to Tom that he sometimes visits during the day when neither Jonathan nor I are in the house.
If I can handle the older King, surely I can take on the other two, right?
Supposing I’m even ‘handling’ Jonathan. If anything, it’s the other way around.
It’s like I’m in a loop, the moment I think I see a way out, it resets to the beginning.
And now, I have to sit at a table with two mini versions of him who don’t like me at all.
How much worse could this be?
29
Aurora
I’m late.
I could blame it on the suffocating traffic, but I don’t. I needed the extra minutes to come to terms with what I’m about to do.
Not that it helps.
By the time I push the dining room doors open, everyone is seated at the table.
Every. Single. One.
And all their attention shifts to me.
My skin prickles at being forced under the spotlight. Ever since the public show I went through during Dad’s trial, attention has become my most loathsome enemy. I did everything not to be the centre of it by staying in the shadows.
Apparently, I wasn’t doing a good enough job, considering that Jonathan found me.
The focus in this room isn’t like the one I received eleven years ago. The people present here don’t want to mutilate me and hang my head on a stick. However, the energy isn’t welcoming either.
Jonathan is at the head of the table, as usual. His pressed black suit moulds to his muscles like a second skin. I swear the tyrant only likes to wear black, like his heart. I hate how much it suits him and brings out the darkness of his grey eyes and the sharp lines of his jaw.
His lean, masculine fingers form a steeple at his chin as he leans forward, both elbows on the table. Those fingers were inside me just this morning when he brought me to orgasm to prepare me for the size of his cock and then —
I force myself to avert my gaze from him so I can focus on the others. Aiden sits on his right, watching me with that calculative streak he inherited from his father.
Elsa is seated beside him, her body language the complete opposite of her husband’s. She smiles and offers me a tentative wave that I return awkwardly.
On Jonathan’s left sits a blond-haired man with piercing blue eyes — or rather, blue-grey. Levi King. Jonathan’s only nephew.
I know he’s a professional football player for Arsenal, and I’ve seen pictures of him before, but he’s more striking in person. His physique appears harder and taller than Aiden’s. Despite his blond look that differs from the other King men, Levi has the same straight nose and an intense gaze that’s meant to cut.
He now watches me as if I’m a ghost coming after his life. “Fuck me. She does look like Alicia. Are you sure she’s not her, Uncle?”
“Levi.” A petite woman with long brown hair and jade green eyes holds on to his bicep and shakes her head. Astrid Clifford. Levi’s wife and Lord Henry Clifford’s daughter.
The digging around I did before going to Aiden’s wedding is sure coming in handy. At least I’m not hit out of the blue by people I don’t recognise.
Levi’s expression immediately softens as he grins down at her. “I’m just saying it how I see it, Princess.”
“Levi,” Jonathan warns in his non-negotiable tone. “Change seats.”
“This is where I always sit,” he argues. “Why don’t you tell Aiden to change his seat?”
His younger cousin throws him a glare. “That won’t be happening.”
“It’s okay.” I flop on the chair at the other end of the table. I realise that I’m far away from the others, but that’s probably the type of distance I need.
From the slight narrow in Jonathan’s eyes, I can tell he doesn’t like it, but he must also see that there’s no point in pressing the matter further. Especially with his family as company.
Jonathan’s family.
The notion strikes me like thunder. I didn’t sign up for this when I agreed to that deal. It was supposed to be only about him and I and sex. Now, there are family members and everything is complicated.
Silence falls on the dining table for a second too long to the point I start touching my neck, then my watch. I drop my hand when Jonathan stares at me across the table.
He said it before. That showing my tells is a sure way to have my weaknesses exploited.
I wish I was more natural at this sealing emotions thing like he is. It’s one of the traits that I admire yet loathe the most about him.
His confidence and the way he flips the world the finger while ruling it is a trait only the top of the top possess.
However, being unable to read him, let alone figure him out, is no fun at all.
Margot and Tom wheel in trays of food, cutting through the silence. Levi grins at Margot and even Aiden directs a smile her way. She returns their welcoming expressions with one of her own.
Whoa. So she can smile. She just never shows it to me.
By the time she reaches me, her face has turned back to its blank professionalism. After she serves the soup and the main course, which seems like an exotic type of meatloaf, she and Tom nod, then leave.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Uncle?” Levi ignores the soup and goes straight for the meat.
“Aurora,” Jonathan speaks. “This is my nephew, Levi. That’s his wife, Astrid. You already met Aiden and Elsa.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Elsa told me so much about you.” Astrid grins, and I notice she’s wearing jean overalls that make her appear way younger than what I think her age is.
I’m about to take a spoonful of my soup, but I set it back down at her words. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“I have a question.” Levi pauses with a forkful of meat halfway to his mouth. “How come we never knew you existed?”
“Because she didn’t,” Aiden says without lifting his head from his plate. “She’s a ghost. Or more like a parasite now.”
“What did I say about respecting my guests when at my table?” Jonathan’s lethal voice cuts through the hall like doom. “If you don’t like to be here, off you go.”
“And leave her to do whatever she wants?”
“Aiden.” Elsa glares at her husband. Despite Aiden’s frightening expression, she’s not the least bit fazed. “You told me you’d play nice.”
“I don’t play nice, sweetheart. Especially with imposters.”
“I’m not an imposter,” I say calmly, even though something inside me burns.
“Is that why you came into my mother’s house and decided you’d make it yours?”
“I have no intention of taking anything of Alicia’s.”
“Don’t say her name.” Aiden’s left eye twitches. “You have no right to say her name when you didn’t come to her fucking funeral.”
“I didn’t go to her funeral because I was being detained in a police station in Leeds.” My voice chokes. “I reported my father for murder.”
The silence that overtakes the dining table now is more due to surprise instead of awkwardness.
It’s the first time I’ve divulged that information willingly, but Aiden needs to know that much about my life. He needs to know that abandoning him that young, despite my bond with Alicia, wasn’t a choi
ce I took lightly.
Jonathan stares at me across the table and I expect disapproval, or perhaps surprise. Instead, his lips curl into a smile. A genuine one.
A proud one.
Wait. He’s proud of me?
Wasn’t he the one who said I wouldn’t tell Aiden anything? He should be surprised that I did talk. Or was that entire speech a manipulation plot to push me to speak?
Whatever it is, the expression on Jonathan’s face encourages me to keep talking.
“I was sixteen at the time, a minor. Since I had no relatives, aside from my father and Alicia, I was taken to a safe house. I couldn’t attend Alicia’s funeral, even if I wanted to.”
“I’m sorry.” Astrid’s eyes fill with deep sympathy. “Mum died when I was fifteen. It would’ve killed me if I hadn’t attended her funeral.”
My lips tremble, but I rein in the tears. All I think about is the nights I spent in that safe house. The fear. The guilt for ratting my dad out. The thoughts of what if I made a mistake. But most of all, I was hit by the grief of losing Alicia and the inability to even say goodbye.
In a way, I still haven’t.
“What happened afterwards?” Levi is the first who goes back to eating.
“Statements and trials.” I release a breath. “Lots of trials.”
“How long did that take?” Aiden asks. “Weeks? Months? It couldn’t have possibly been eleven years, right?”
Elsa pins him down with a glare again, but his attention stays firmly on me.
“Due to the nature of the crimes my father committed, I had to be admitted into the Witness Protection Program.”
This time, Jonathan is the one who narrows his eyes on me. He couldn’t possibly know that I escaped the program the moment I could. After that, I didn’t let them write my story for me. I went back to the cottage and wrote my new beginning with my own bare hands.
“You have an answer for everything. Brilliant.” Aiden goes back to eating.
“Aiden,” Jonathan warns.
“You can’t bring her here, to the place Mum called home, and expect me to act all acceptant of her. That woman is not Alicia. Why can’t you see it?”
