by Rina Kent
As the door closes behind him with finality, a tear slides down my cheek.
I am not crazy.
12
Aurora
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 f
limsy 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.
13
Aurora
Even though I go to work, I can’t concentrate.
All I keep thinking about is those voices grating on my nerves and whispering things like:
She’s losing her mind, just like Alicia.
What makes it worse is the way Jonathan looked at me. And then he didn’t attempt to touch me during my shower today. His movements were anything but sexual with the sole purpose of helping me bathe.
Usually, his hands wander all over my body and he demands I beg him to finger me or bring me to orgasm.
Not today. He had no interest in me, even when I stood fully naked in front of him. I pretend that doesn’t slice through me and leave a wound worse than the ones covering my body.
Being the sole focus of his touch just to lose it all of a sudden is harsher than I ever thought.
After the shower, he helped me dress, then disappeared.
Just like that. No words. No orders for later per his usual.
Just…nothing.
The coldness I felt when he walked out the door was like being shoved into a freezer and locked inside.
Is that what he also did with Alicia when she started losing her mind?
Not that I am. I’m not.
Though coming all the way here to prove my theory is probably pushing it.
I went to my old building during my lunch break, where Paul insisted that there was no package and he didn’t see me on that day. Shelby, my grumpy neighbour, wasn’t there for me to hold him witness. When I asked Paul where he was, he said he was having trouble with the law and was solving it at the police station.
Then, after I left, a scary thought assaulted me. What if the attack with Sarah never happened? I mean, how would she know where I lived, even if she saw me in that charity event?
Did she see me? Was she there or did I make her up?
All those thoughts have been throwing me for a loop. I feel like I exist outside of my body, and I can’t find a way to go back in.
Except for this stupid, irrational action.
I’m standing in front of Aiden and Elsa’s house in Oxford, hand gripping my watch. Elsa sent me the address when I last saw her in an attempt to invite me to dinner. I’ve always refused because Aiden seems like he wants to chop my head off.
Today, I drove the whole way here. And although I spent almost two hours on the road, I still haven’t exactly managed to gather my thoughts.
The rain pours as if the sky is revolting against the world. The dusk has come and gone, and the early evening adds to the gloominess of the heavy downpour.
I’m soaked in seconds during the small trip from my car to the front door. My hair sticks to my temples and water forms rivulets down my face.
When I came up with this idea, my only angle was that, aside from Jonathan, Aiden knew Alicia the best. He would’ve noticed if there was something amiss with his mother.
I press the doorbell with hesitant fingers as doubts creep in, the most prominent of all being that Aiden doesn’t like me. Why would he talk about Alicia in front of me when he thinks I’m an impostor?
This was a bad idea, after all. If I leave now, they’ll probably chalk up the ringing bell to a child’s prank.
Before I can run away, the door opens. Elsa appears on the threshold wearing shorts and a sleeveless top. Her long hair is held up in a neat ponytail and her face is soft and beautiful, even without an ounce of makeup. Upon seeing me, her lips widen in a gorgeous smile.
“Aurora! What a lovely surprise.” She wraps her arms around me in a hug, uncaring about the fact that I’m soaked.
“I’m sorry for coming without notice.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re always welcome here.” She ushers me
inside. “Come in. The rain got you.”
“Thank you.” I remain in the entrance so that I don’t drip all over the shiny wooden flooring.
Their house is nothing like the King mansion. It’s smaller, homier, and has elegant but personal decor, like the small house figurines and the painting of Aiden and Elsa on their wedding day. Astrid must’ve done it — it has her special, unconventional touch.
The size and the feel of the house makes me wonder if Aiden wanted to exchange the big, empty, and cold King mansion with a place that he considers home. A place where he can start anew with Elsa.
“Why are you standing there?” Elsa motions behind her. “Come inside.”
“I’m good here.” I clear my throat. “Is Aiden around?”
“Yeah, he —”
“Sweetheart?” His voice filters in from the top of the stairs. “What did I say about opening the door? I’m the only one who does it. No one gets to look at you in those tiny clothes.”
“There he is.” Elsa shakes her head and whispers, “Sorry about that.”
“You don’t need to apologise.” A small smile grazes my lips, remembering how Jonathan acted this morning in front of Ethan.
Like father, like son.
My smile falls when Aiden joins his wife and watches me with a furrowed brow. Like her, he’s wearing cotton trousers and a simple white T-shirt. His black hair is tousled, and I can’t help staring at the small mole at the edge of his right eye — the only physical feature he inherited from Alicia.
He places an arm around Elsa’s waist and pulls her to his side, almost as if he wants to protect her from me. “What are you doing here?”
She elbows him. “Is that a way to treat our guest? She came all the way from London during this rain.”
“She’s not my guest.” He continues to study me, probably waiting for an answer to his question.
“I…I want to ask you something.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
Elsa pulls away from his hold, glaring him down, even though he’s way taller than her. She then takes my hand and leads me inside and seats me on the sofa, despite my attempt to protest.
By the time she brings a fluffy towel and wraps it around my shoulders, Aiden has followed after, his hands in his pockets. His grey eyes narrow on me as if I’m a liability he needs to get rid of.
