Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
“I’m always real.”
Slowly, my breathing goes back to normal, but I’m so drained, so ashamed, so unable to face him after my epic meltdown.
Closing my eyes, I sag into his welcoming embrace, knowing, for some reason, that he will prevent me from falling.
The world disappears from beneath my feet as he carries me to the car.
He said he’s always real, but a depressing thought keeps banging on the walls of my sanity.
What if everything is still a figment of my unruly imagination?
16
ELI
“To what do I owe this touching heart-to-heart displeasure?”
I narrow my eyes on my cousin through the huge monitor in my home office and stare at his nonexistent soul.
A step below mine, or maybe above.
Proving who’s superior is a competition neither of us would forfeit, but it’s a known fact that Landon breathes chaos and would sacrifice his firstborn to watch the world go up in flames.
Appearance- wise, we’re similar and share the King genes. Especially the straight nose and frosty eyes that unconsciously prompt people to shake in their boots.
The similarities end there.
His brown hair, courtesy of his mother, and blue eyes, the only thing he got from his father, distinguish him from my better genes.
He’s also tragically less refined than me, considering his casual gray T-shirt and finger-raked hair. One more reason why the parasite doesn’t fit King Enterprises’ image if I have any say in it.
Rain patters outside, barely reaching my ears through the double-glazed windows as I stretch my legs beneath my desk and cross them at the ankles. “Your recent plans to start trouble. Maybe I need to sit you down and break the unfortunate news that Hannibal Lecter isn’t real.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence by comparing me to a loser who has no capabilities in controlling his basic impulses. Additionally, I wouldn’t have started any trouble if I hadn’t been presented with tempting receipts.”
“I see your vacationing with vulgar Americans has taught you bad habits.”
“Not vacationing, keeping my beautiful fiancée happy while annoying her brother and looking out for my brother’s interests.”
“Sounds tedious.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He grins. “You should see Nikolai’s face when I steal Bran’s attention and purposefully cockblock him. That could be the stuff of an interesting psychological thriller. But enough about my stunning adventures, dear cousin. Did you hear the news?”
“About your pending assassination by your fiancée’s mafia family? Already booked the coffin. Will put some drops in my eyes and pretend to shed a tear as they lower you into the ground.”
“The Russians love me—like everyone who has to the honor to encounter my godly presence. Don’t you worry about that. What you should be concerned about, however, is the news I learned recently. Something about Ava’s former therapist somehow, by a stroke of luck, disappearing.”
“Oh?” I remain in the same position, my face muscles unmoving.
“What unfortunate news.” Lan shakes his head with a pretense of sympathy. “He was bright, professional, and particularly close with Barbie. I wonder if she learned about the tragic turn of events.”
“Ava. My wife’s name is Ava.”
“Thanks for the info. Anyway, is Barbie still awake for a quick catch-up call from her favorite King?”
“Seeing as she shares a house with her favorite King, the one she married, I don’t see where you come into the equation.”
He barks out mocking laughter and even slaps his knee for good measure. “You’re effortlessly funny, dear cousin. Sometimes, I wonder whether or not you truly believe your words.”
“If you’re done.” I reach for the mouse, but he holds up a hand and leans in.
Behind him, a gust of wind hits a couple of willow trees, their wild leaves, scraping the huge window.
He was apparently gifted the mansion he’s currently residing in by his fiancée’s Russian grandfather after he proved to be undoubtedly worthy of Mia Sokolov.
A fact he never stops shoving down everyone’s throat, especially Grandpa Jonathan’s, so he can score more points as the potential favorite heir.
The joke’s on him. I’m Grandma’s favorite, and since Grandpa worships at her feet, no one else has a chance. Except for maybe my cousin Glyn, who’s always been Grandpa’s spoiled princess.
“I’m not playing, Eli. I can barely contain myself from sharing Barbie’s grief, so unless you’re not bothered by that outcome, I’d suggest you try to placate me. We’ll start with a please.”
“Please drop dead so I can go ahead with my funeral plans.”
“Aw. Didn’t know you were eager to shed tears for me. But let’s postpone that for at least sixty more years.” He tilts his head to the side. “You’re really unperturbed about your wife learning the truth, possibly digging deeper, and shattering the illusion you’ve been miraculously maintaining?”
“No. Because if you tell her that, you’ll have no ammo to piss me off with.”
“Now. Don’t be so pessimistic. There’s that tidbit where her fall down the stairs and subsequent memory loss wasn’t an accident, no matter how much effort you put into making it appear otherwise. I don’t believe Barbie would appreciate the lies and deceit.”