9
Elsa
Considering all the tiny bursts of panic I experienced tonight, I should’ve been ready for Aiden’s appearance.
I’m not.
Not really.
Not at all.
I fist both sides of my dress just to have something to twist.
Jonathan saunters inside with his infuriating confidence on display as if he owns the place and everyone in it. He looks down his arrogant nose at everyone in his vicinity.
Aiden and Levi stride on either side of him like generals waltzing into a war zone. Astrid hangs onto Levi’s arm seeming more uncomfortable than I am currently feeling.
The three King men are wearing sharp black tuxedos that flatter their developed physiques. My attention bounces back to Aiden. I try to fight it, you know.
I try to look at Astrid’s beautiful dress, at Levi’s easy grin, or even at Jonathan treating everyone as peasants.
I can’t.
Something pulls at my strings and leads me straight back to Aiden.
I hate that something. I loathe it from the bottom of my defective heart.
Said defective heart flutters, and I squash it while I focus on Aiden. On the way he strides with confident ease. On his slicked, stylish hair. On the cloth that tightens around his biceps and his muscular, tall thighs.
He put on an effort tonight. He wants to be as presentable as possible — and lethally attractive. He’s using his appearance to help his manipulations.
The moment his eyes meet mine, I freeze. It’s like those grey clouds have entered the hall and will now transform into a storm, wreaking havoc in its wake.
Or perhaps, that storm is only meant for me.
I keep sucking air, but I’m not breathing properly. I’m not breathing at all.
Silver is the queen to the King’s name.
That reminder hits me like a jab to the ribs. My temper flares and all the blocking I’ve managed thus far threatens to smash to pieces.
I break eye contact with effort and face the guys. “I have to find Teal.”
Ronan protests, but I lift my dress and walk in the opposite direction.
No idea where Teal went, but if I can find her and Knox, I won’t have to face Aiden and his bitchy fiancée who must’ve come with him.
A whirlwind of bitterness grips me out of nowhere. My hands itch, and I curse myself for not bringing hand sanitiser.
The breathing shortage from earlier swings back with a vengeance. I nearly topple over from the force of it.
Air.
I need air.
Stumbling, I find a patio door open and I slip outside.
The music from the banquet dies down a little as the fresh air hits my face. Goosebumps cover my bare arms, but I don’t wrap my arms around myself. That’s for weak people.
Running away is also for the weak.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip. The wound is still fresh. I’m sure with time, I won’t run away. There will be a day when I’ll see Aiden and walk right past him without sparing him a glance.
I hope so.
I really hope so.
Pain is temporary. Pain dulls over time.
However, I doubt there’ll be a day when I think about him and don’t feel ache, but I’m sure it won’t be this sharp or damning.
You’re strong, Elsa. You’re a Steel.
As Dad used to say, ‘no one fucks with a Steel and lives to talk about it.’
Taking a deep breath, I whirl around. I’ll go back inside and pretend he doesn’t exist.
I falter, my heels catching on the floor. Aiden stands in front of me like a grim reaper.
No, not a grim reaper. A monster.
Mymonster.
He doesn’t make a noise as he steps outside, purposefully invading my space and my air.
But that’s what Aiden does, isn’t it? He pushes you into a corner, and soon enough, you’ll realise there’s no way out.
He’s more intimidating and handsome than anyone should be. He has his father’s arrogant nose and the aura of a God amongst humans. Or rather, a king amongst peasants.
“Did you think you could run away from me, sweetheart?”
His voice is still the same, rough, deep, and sinister. No idea why I thought his voice would change in the span of a week.
My repressed anger catches on fire and boils through my veins. Profanities fight and claw to be set free like a hurricane brewing in the distance.
However, I remain silent.
Aiden is the type of deviant who feeds on hysterics. The best way to win against him is to reverse his own tactics, disrupt his thought process, and keep him in the dark.
Due to his lack of empathy, he has a knack for reading people. He relies so much on intuition and logic; they’re his greatest assets. It’s almost impossible to shuffle his formation or make a move he didn’t already anticipate.
However, I have one advantage.
I know him so well that I’m able to look him in the eye and seal all my emotions inside.
If he’s searching for a fit of anger, he won’t be getting any.
“You disappeared on me,” he continues after a moment of silence. “I understand you’re angry, but you didn’t hear my side of the story, Elsa.”
Angry? How about waking up in the middle of the night to find myself crying and my chest squeezing painfully? How about the sense of betrayal I’ve been blocking out so I don’t break into pieces?
His side of the story? Fuck that.
Fuck him.
He has no side of the story. He kept a fucking engagement a secret while I was going berserker on the girl who had more right to him than I ever would.
The bastard reduced me to being the other woman.
It’s such a dirty, humiliating place to be, and I’ll never forgive him for that.
I lift my dress and start to pass him.
Aiden grips me by the arm. His touch would’ve set me on fire before, now it’s just… so cold.
So freezing.
So wrong.
“I said,” he enunciates as if I didn’t hear him the first time. “You didn’t hear my side of the story.”
I wiggle my arm free and surprisingly he releases me.
That’s a first.
I take two steps when his lethal, hard voice stops me in my tracks. “You made a promise, Elsa. Fucking keep it.”
“If you don’t keep your promises, why should I keep mine?” My voice is so calm, it’s kind of haunting.
I don’t turn around or face him.
He chose this. He chose to have us in a place where my back is the only thing he sees.
“I don’t give promises I don’t keep. You’re the one who does that over and over again. I told you loving me is a one-way road. I told you not to say the fucking words if you didn’t mean them.”
I throw a glance at him over my shoulder. “I meant those words. I love you, Aiden, but I also love myself enough to walk away from you.”
And then I head back inside.
The urge to cry hits me like a sudden natural disaster; hard and destructive. Still, I don’t cry. I won’t shed tears for him. I won’t be reduced to the victim he wants me to become.