Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 140896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Because she was threatened by the fucking bastard who’ll wish he was dead the moment I find him.
“Does her family have any theories? Suspects?”
Glyn lifts her shoulders. “Not really. They definitely suspect it was an enemy of either or both of them, but that’s apparently a given in the mafia. Even Annika, Jeremy’s sister, was nearly kidnapped a few times. This is the only time they’ve gotten away with it, though.”
No, they haven’t.
If my calculations are correct, there’s one possible theory that none of them seem to have considered. But in order for that possibility to work, I need to confirm a few things first.
“Not sure if that helps…” Glyn trails off.
“It does.” I abandon my beer, then stand and ruffle her hair. “Thanks, little princess.”
She stares up at me with a parted mouth before she nods and lets her lips pull in a smile. “Sure.”
I head to my walk-in. “Feel free to hang out with the drama king, Remi, or Creigh if he’s around. I’m going out.”
“I’ll ask the girls to join me,” Glyn throws back and I hear her footsteps retreating from the room.
Other footsteps, however, approach me. I remove my shirt and dunk it in the laundry bin, then stare at my brother.
Bran leans against the doorframe, arms and ankles crossed. A rare gleam and subtle smugness shine through his eyes.
“What?”
“You just thanked Glyn for the first time ever.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I must’ve thanked her before.” I click the wardrobe button and watch my crisp, ironed shirts roll before me.
“No, you haven’t. You’re too egotistical to thank others or even see merits in them.”
“The only people whose merits I refuse to honor with even a glance are incompetent fools. Glyn doesn’t belong on that endless list.”
“Because she shares your genes?”
“Precisely.” I snatch an off-white shirt. “And she’s also never been daft. Just a bit too hung up on emotions for my taste, but oh well, as you constantly remind me, not everyone is built from the same genius clay you and I are made of.”
“You…think you and I are the same?”
“We’re identical twins, Bran.”
“Not in thinking.”
“Not one hundred percent, no.” I put on my shirt and start to button it as I look at him with a tilted head. “But you’re suppressing something, and as long as you’re doing that, we’re not too far off in hiding our secrets, are we?”
A somber look passes in his eyes, and if I weren’t in such a hurry, I’d explore it with more vigor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You never do, Bran.” I grab his shoulder and squeeze on my way out. “You never do.”
He catches my arm. “Where are you going?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not off to instigate a new war unless chess counts.”
“You’re really just going to play chess?”
“I know, right? I’ve become too boring for my own good.”
He gives me a quizzical glance, but he lets me go. “Remember, Lan. If you fall back into your manipulation and chaos patterns, it won’t work.”
“Yes, Mum.” I do a mock salute and I’m rewarded with Bran’s snickering.
On my way out of the mansion, I shoot my cousin Eli a text.
Landon: Remember the exchange of favors we once talked about?
Eli: Ready to go down like a little bitch?
Landon: Only if you turn into a smaller bitch than my highness.
Eli: Your arrogance will get you killed one day.
Landon: Not when your arrogance is alive and thriving. Now, as much as I love talking shit, I need something.
Eli: The question is, do you need it enough to lose your bargaining chip?
Landon: Yes.
Eli: Prepare to lose the race as the best King grandchild.
I ignore him. Eli thinks that I have only one bargaining chip, but he’ll learn, after I get what I want, that there’s no pushing Landon King to the side, not even by the hands of another King.
After sending him instructions about the possible proof that can make my theory a reality, I drive to the chess club.
Now, I don’t expect Mia to show up after she specifically asked me not to pester her, but it doesn’t hurt to try.
Yes. Unfortunately, I’ve become so irrevocably obsessed with the little muse that I’m surviving on the mere hope of being able to see her.
Desperate much? Abso-fucking-lutely.
I park my McLaren opposite the entrance and step out, only to be greeted by the most miserable weather England has to offer. The wind slaps me across the face, and I close my eyes to ward off the assault. When I open them, I see none other than Mia getting out of her car.
My lips pull in a wide smile.
Despite her occasional reluctance, she can’t get enough of me either, and her face lights up whenever we meet. Which is why I had a hunch she would be here…
As she approaches me, her black tulle dress swishes, and her ribbons fly in the wind. She comes to a slow halt in front of me, her eyes entirely fucking wrong.