Oh well, at least I tried. I haven’t gotten to see most of the island yet, and it already looks like a small space cut from paradise.

Thoughts of why we’re here try to barge in. I think of Dad’s interview and his accusations, about the prosecution, media, and victims’ families.

The beauty surrounding me starts to vanish, its colours slowly turning to grey. This isn’t a holiday.

I’m running away — it’s as simple as that.

Jonathan releases my hand, letting it drop to his lap, and grips my thigh. It’s like he knows exactly where my mind went and is bringing me back to the present.

A strange type of warmth engulfs me as I fall into his presence. There’s something about his soft touch that, even if his features remain unreadable, I sense what he’s trying to relay.

Right now, it seems that he wants me comfortable above anything else.

We stop by a house in the hills that’s slightly hidden from below by tall trees.

It’s smaller than the King mansion, and it has a modern feel to it with its two-storey round architecture. The interior stairs are visible from the outside through the shiny glass walls.

“It’s different,” I tell Jonathan as we step out of the car.

“It’s the prince’s creation, not mine.”

The lack of Jonathan’s grandiose touch makes sense then. If it were up to my tyrant, he’d make it appear as intimidating as he is.

In every sense of the word.

Power isn’t only a tactic for Jonathan, it’s his philosophy in life.

From what I understand about his past, the way he lost his father made him merciless. Seeing his dad die of weakness made him take a figurative vow to never be in that position himself.

In a way, he tamed power and made it his best friend. They’re so intertwined now, as if they’re one being.

Jonathan grabs me by the waist as he leads me inside. Moses remains still as a stone in front of the car, arms crossed in front of him, one hand over the other. I smile back at him with a nod.

“Eyes ahead, Aurora.” Jonathan’s voice holds a clear warning.

“I was just acknowledging him. I don’t like ignoring people.”

His lips thin. “You were smiling at him.”

“So now I’m not allowed to smile at others?”

“Not if you can help it.”

“And if I can’t help it?”

We stop at the entrance, and he lifts my chin with two long fingers. I stare up at him with parted lips and he runs his thumb over the bottom one, back and forth, creating a sensual rhythm.

“Your smile, like everything else about you, is mine and mine alone. I don’t share.”

I’m trapped in the intensity of his grey eyes. In the storm lurking inside that he won’t hesitate to unleash on the world at any second. The fact that he’s willing to destroy the world for me shouldn’t affect me this much, but a strange type of giddiness overtakes me.

Clearing my throat, I pull away from Jonathan to take a look at the house. Its interior is as modern as its exterior. There’s nothing of the precise control and majesty that’s clear in every inch of the King mansion.

Here, it’s minimalistic but a bit cosier. I fall onto the plush sofa, throwing my head back. “This is so comfy.”

“We can get a similar one for home.”

Home.

No idea if he’s calling it that on purpose, but somewhere deep down, in that wrong part of my soul, I believe it.

Whether I like to admit it or not, the King mansion has become my home. Jonathan’s home is my home.

That’s a scary thought.

I vaguely remember that I only have a few months left of the agreement we had, but I stopped thinking about that a long time ago.

I bite my lower lip as I open my eyes. Jonathan stands in front of me, his jacket slung over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He lost the tie somewhere during the flight. Some strands of his black hair are tousled and falling over his forehead, making him appear the most ruggedly handsome I’ve ever seen him.

He’s studying me intently. He’s always doing that, watching me, pulling me to the centre of his attention as if I’ve always belonged there. “You should go rest.”

“I’m fine.” Rest is the last thing on my mind right now. I clench my thighs together, trapping the tingles in. I can’t believe I’m turned on by just his appearance.

If Lay hears about this, she won’t let me live it down.

“You must have jet lag, Aurora.”

“I don’t.”

“You might not feel it now, but exhaustion will soon take over you. It’ll be better once you sleep.”

“I slept enough on the plane.”

He sighs. “Must you have an objection to everything? Stop fighting me about your health and go rest.”

I’m apparently doing a shit job at showing my interest, so I try again, this time lowering my voice. “Are you going to join me?”

I swear something shines in his eyes, but the blank façade returns all too soon. “I have to make a few calls.”

“Fine.” I huff, getting to my feet. “Whatever.”

I bypass him and stomp to the stairs like an angry kid with issues. Damn him.

Upstairs, there are only two rooms, so I go into the first one. Sure enough, there’s a large bed with white sheets, and the curtains are drawn, hiding the sun.

I kick my shoes off, then jerkily strip off my clothes. Disappointment sticks at the back of my throat like a foul aftertaste, but I refuse to acknowledge it.

Screw Jonathan.

I step into the glass shower and let the cool water submerge me. A full-body mirror is positioned in front of me, making me watch myself shower. It must be another one of the prince’s creations — a weird as hell one. Who even does that?

I close my eyes and try to let the flow of the water rinse away my thoughts. But no matter how long I stand there, my mind keeps jumping back to the shitshow I left behind in England. This island is merely a temporary solution.

There’s no way in hell I can escape forever. Besides, now that Layla and her family are involved, it’s one more reason to not escape. It’s not like I can take them all and smuggle them to Scotland or out of the UK with me.

A warm body envelops me from behind, his hard chest moulding to my wet back. He pulls my hair to the side, baring my throat before he wraps a hand around it.

Jonathan’s lips graze the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “Is this what you meant by joining you?”

My thighs tighten as the earlier wave of arousal slams back into me with a vengeance. There’s nothing I love more than the feel of Jonathan’s body glued to my skin and his hot breaths mingled with mine.

His free hand comes down on my arse, and I yelp, my eyes shooting open. God. It hurts so good with the water like this.

My eyes meet his through the mirror. It’s slightly foggy now with the steam, but I can make out the spark in those dark greys.

“What was that for?” My voice is so lustful, it would’ve been embarrassing if I wasn’t so turned on.

“To get your attention. It needs to always be on me.” He grabs me hard by the arse. “Not anyone else. Me.”

“Why?” I ask in the same voice, just to challenge him. Jonathan loves that — challenges, I mean.