My movements are forceful as I wash my hands and stride back to the coffee shop. I pause by the table when I notice the atmosphere is not as sickeningly sweet as when I left.
The reason is that Bran’s clone is in my chair.
I place a hand in my pocket and stand beside him. “You’re in my spot.”
Landon’s head whips in my direction, sporting his slimy smirk. Although he shares Bran’s physical traits, Landon is buffer and much more loathsome. If it weren’t for the identical features, no one would think they’re siblings. Where Bran is calm and a fucking asshole behind closed doors, Landon is an asshole openly. Antagonistic and completely unhinged.
I still haven’t forgiven him for kidnapping Kill, even if my cousin let it go to keep his relationship with Glyn intact.
“Don’t see your name on it, big man,” he says with that same smirk, and the only reason I don’t punch him in the face is because it’s a mirror of Bran’s.
Can’t stand the fucking guy.
“Lan?” Bran shows up, looking not one bit flustered. As if he didn’t get on my last fucking nerve a minute ago.
He carefully slides into his seat, keeping his attention on his pretentious brother. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard you and Glyn were catching up, so I wanted to join. I didn’t think there would be unwanted company, though.”
“Watch your mouth,” Kill grits and Glyn presses on his hand as if stopping him from punching her brother, who definitely deserves to be sent to the moon with a hole in his goddamn face.
“Bran, little bro.” Landon wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Why were you sitting beside Nikolai? Stupidity can be contagious, you know.”
This fucking—
Before I can kick him, Bran pushes him away. “That’s rude. Apologize, Lan.”
“Me? Apologizing?” He bursts out laughing. “Good one, Bran. You’re effortlessly funny.”
“I apologize on my brother’s behalf,” he says, barely looking at me.
Christ. This fucking asshole, I swear. I glare at him and he ducks his head, cutting off eye contact like the coward he is.
“What’s going on here?” Lan snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Hey, you. Eyes off my brother before I fucking blind you.”
“Lan!” Glyn chastises.
Bran lifts his head and the fear I see in his gaze makes me sick to my stomach.
He’s so terrified about the notion that anyone could find out about us that he looks like he’s on the verge of throwing up.
“I’m out of here,” I announce and leave without a look behind.
Fuck the lot of them. Starting with Brandon fucking King.
I walk back to the mansion and then take my Harley on a ride along the seashore. But neither the air nor the vibrations of the bike lighten my mood.
After half an hour, I park by the beach and pull out my phone.
I find a text from the bane of my fucking existence.
Bran
Thank you and I’m sorry.
Motherfucker.
Me
What for?
Bran
I’m sorry for how I spoke. Thank you for leaving and not clashing with Lan.
Listen, I think he’s suspicious about something.
So?
It’s best I keep my distance from the penthouse for now.
Typical Brandon. Running away at the first sign of danger seems to be your modus operandi.
You don’t know Lan. He’s like a dog. If he comes sniffing around, he’ll find out everything.
And that’s such a fucking tragedy?
Nikolai, please. Don’t do this.
You know what? I am doing this. I don’t have time for spineless, indecisive assholes. I’m neither your plaything nor your booty call.
What does that mean?
Go find yourself another toy. We’re done.
Oh, wait. We were never anything in the first place. Delete my number.