Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 153544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
“What are you now, my father?”
“Shouldn’t that be frowned upon in your moral code, considering I plan to fuck you?”
I choke on my own spit and Annika grins like an idiot. “Never mind me, guys. Think of me as a wallflower.”
Killian doesn’t seem to notice she exists in the first place.
“I mean it. No going out.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Be good.”
A shudder goes through me. I can’t help it. I really, really can’t help it and I hate how vulnerable this makes me feel.
Even as I pull away from him. As I stare at the distance and try to ignore him.
But he uses Annika to make me talk, and he asks all sorts of questions about uni and art and my professors. Whenever I refuse to answer, he starts being a wanker.
It’s scary how fast he can flip from the amicable version of himself to the insufferable one.
When Jeremy calls him, he finally takes Annika and stands.
“Behave,” he whispers against my forehead before planting a chaste kiss there that makes my toes curl.
My phone vibrates and I try to gather my bearings as Annika gives me a sad hug and says she’ll miss us tonight.
Then she turns and leaves with Killian.
I release the breath I’ve been holding since he showed up and fish out my phone to find a text.
Heathens: Congratulations! You are invited to the Heathens’ initiation ceremony. Please show the attached QR code upon arrival to the club’s compound at four p.m. sharp.
14
GLYNDON
“How’s my favorite grandchild?”
I grin widely while lifting my tablet higher so I can get a better view of Grandpa’s face.
He’s actually Dad’s uncle, but he raised him after his parents’ death, and, therefore, became my grandpa.
As in, my favorite person on earth.
I love my parents, but nothing compares to the complete adoration and connection I share with Grandpa. I spent my whole childhood basically living with him and Grandma Aurora. Whenever Mum and Dad took me home, he’d come to ‘steal’ me again.
It’s a known fact that I’m his favorite grandchild. He likes Creigh and Bran and has big expectations for Eli and Lan, but I’m the only one he spoils like a princess.
After all, I’m the only female offspring in the Kings’ line for a few generations.
I might feel like I’m worthless in front of Mum’s and my brothers’ talent. I might consider myself unfit to be in the same picture frame as them, but those feelings never exist when I’m with Grandpa.
And honestly, it should be the other way around. Jonathan King is a ruthless businessman with an empire that reaches all parts of the world. He has a reputation that leaves people trembling in his presence.
Me, however? I get all giddy. I don’t see him as the cold, merciless man people describe him to be. I see him as the man who taught me how to take my first steps, ride a bike, and bought Grandma a whole new set of special edition makeup when I decided to go rogue and painted the door with all of hers.
He still looks to be in his mid-fifties, although he’s way older. Two streaks of white decorate the sides of his hair, adding a wise edge to his hard features—features that are softening as he talks to me while sitting in his home office with bookshelves behind him.
“I’m doing great, Grandpa. Studying and trying to convince my professor that not all my paintings are that horrible.” I laugh in an attempt to mask the awkwardness.
He’s the only one I’m willing to share my insecurities with.
“Or I can send him to the next planet where he’d wish he’d never bothered my princess.”
“No, Grandpa, don’t do that. I really want to convince him on my own.”
I thought I was coming close today when Professor Skies wanted to speak to me alone, but then he asked me to see if Mum could make it to some gallery opening he’s planning.
Not that it cut me open or anything.
Okay, maybe a little when I heard him tell his assistant teacher, “I can’t believe Glyndon is the Astrid C. King’s daughter and Landon and Brandon King’s sister. Her technique is juvenile at best and so chaotic that it’s embarrassing to compare her to them.”
I learned long ago that being an artist means to open oneself to criticism. Mum and my brothers got their share of it, but I guess I’m not as strong as they are or confident enough to close my ears to that type of roasting.
It’s why I had to talk to Grandpa right after. He makes me feel better. Mum does, too, but I don’t talk to her about any art school things, because I feel as if she just wouldn’t understand.
She’s better.
She doesn’t struggle with low self-esteem or other darker thoughts.
“If he doesn’t, I’ll take care of him. He’s obviously a crook if he doesn’t recognize your worth,” Grandpa says.