He’s been showing up near my classes, without a disguise, as if he’s begging for his face to be beaten and crushed to minuscule pieces.
Naturally, I’ve avoided him and have even sent my bodyguards over so he couldn’t trespass into my space.
Though I should’ve known better. Landon and giving up apparently don’t see eye to eye, because he’s been in my vicinity every day over the past week, carrying my favorite Frappuccino.
I don’t take it, but that doesn’t deter him from his morning ritual.
Then, in the evening or whenever my classes finish, he offers to give me a ride in his show-off car. He’s always blocked by my bodyguards, who accompany me home instead.
It’s clear he doesn’t like that, and I often expect to be reintroduced to his ugly side, but he surprisingly just leaves. Yet not without telling me he’ll be back or that this push-and-pull only manages to turn him on.
In order to escape his vicinity, I’ve also been avoiding the chess club unless it’s an unplanned game with Frank. The last thing I want is to be alone with or in close proximity to the bastard.
While that might be perceived as cowardly, I don’t care. Landon threatens the very foundation of my being and, more importantly, he’s a danger to my family. Even if a part of me longs for his touch and intensity, I’m well aware that it would only end in peril and destruction.
We started as the epitome of a toxic relationship, and those never end well. So if I have to crush these nuisance emotions and my heart in the process, that’s exactly what I’ll do.
His inability to give up isn’t helping. He’s practically a stalker at this point, and that’s creepy, to say the least. His birthday gift was even more disturbing. In the box he gave me, there was a golden QR code with ‘Happy Birthday’ engraved in the middle. When I visited it, I found an image of a half-blurred statue face that looked so much like me.
On top of it, there were the words, ‘If you want to see the whole thing, all you have to do is come to our haunted house. P.S. The plants seem to miss you.’
His attempts at getting me alone again were clear, and no matter how much I wanted to visit the plants and see the entirety of that statue, I didn’t go.
I’d have to be insane to willingly go to Landon’s den.
The door opens and I go still. Please don’t tell me I accidentally conjured him…?
A chill shoots down my spine and my entire body tightens, ready for the inevitable meeting. I don’t have my bodyguards with me right now, though if I send them a text, they’ll be here in fifteen. Maybe less…
My thoughts scatter when a new face strolls inside, his features closed and his pressed suit suggesting a certain level of control. He looks to be in his thirties and carries the aura of a wise, formidable opponent.
“Welcome, Professor Kayden,” Frank greets, his eyes softening.
“Kayden is just fine, Frank.” He speaks in a distinctly American accent that’s similar to mine. His gaze slides to me and he pauses for an uncomfortable beat. “I didn’t realize you have company this time of the day or I would’ve come another time.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Mia doesn’t mind.”
I nod, then push my rook forward and grin.
“Looks like you got a checkmate, Frank,” the newcomer, Kayden, says with a slight rise of his brow.
“Oh my.” Frank looks at the board as if he can’t believe his eyes.
It’s useless to try to find fault in my plan—or little tricks, so to speak. I might have picked up some bad habits from the time I spent in psycho Landon’s presence.
As much as I hate the bastard, he’s an absolute genius and a master of chess. He’s the type who believes in playing the player instead of the game, and when I complained that it wasn’t fair, he chuckled and offered to teach me. I have no clue why he disclosed his tricks when he’s not the sharing type, but I’ll definitely use them whenever possible.
What? I don’t like losing.
“I didn’t see that coming,” Frank says. “Nice game.”
“Thank you,” I sign.
“Is the young lady by any chance interested in playing against me?” Kayden asks.
“As long as you’re willing to lose, sure,” I type and show him.
He smiles a little, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I pause. For some reason, he seems oddly familiar, like I’ve met him.
But when? Where?
He couldn’t have come to one of the Heathens' parties, right?
“I’ll leave you my place.” Frank slowly stands. “Professor Kayden is one of our newest and rising-star members. He teaches criminal law at your university, Mia.”
Oh. That must be why I find him familiar. I must’ve seen him around campus.
Kayden removes his jacket, revealing a muscular build that doesn’t fit a stereotypical professor. He sits opposite me, wearing an easy but entirely disingenuous expression.
“Nice to meet you,” I type and show him.
“Likewise. It’s rare to find young students who are interested in chess.”
“It’s my favorite hobby and my number one coping mechanism.”
His attention slides from the phone to my face. “Interesting.”
I internally cringe. That was definitely too much information for a person I just met. What is it about this Kayden that seems awfully familiar?
“My sister is in pre-law. I also have a cousin who’s studying law at TKU. Maybe you know him? His name is Gareth Carson.”
Kayden’s eyes skim over the text, pausing for an uncomfortable beat again, then he says, “Could be.”
“He only joined The King’s U this year,” Frank says from beside him as if he’s his designated butler. “He can’t possibly know all the students.”
“You’d be surprised,” Kayden deadpans. “How close are you with this cousin of yours?”
“Very. We were brought up together, so he’s like a brother.”
“I see.” For a fraction of a second, I think I see a smirk, but I must be imagining things since it quickly disappears.
I play white as usual and the start goes well. In no time, I manage to use the tricks Landon taught me, but unlike Frank, Kayden isn’t completely oblivious. He counters each and every one of them and drives me into a corner.
The last stage of the game is basically me fighting a hopeless war against his relentless and highly strategic attack.
“Checkmate,” he finally announces with emotionless coldness.
I purse my lips and study the board to try and figure out where I went wrong.
“You want to know your fault?” he asks, the question obviously rhetorical since he continues, “Instead of playing chess, you’re playing a treacherous war-like game with no codes of honor whatsoever. Instead of focusing on the pieces, you were too busy trying to outsmart me.”
“Chess is all about playing the player, not the game,” I type, then wince. Those are that bastard Landon’s exact words.
“You need to be psychologically stronger than your opponent before you can attempt to play him.”
“I tend to agree.” The low, deep voice catches me completely by surprise.
I was so caught up in my tragic loss that I momentarily let my guard down. None other than Landon ruthlessly used that gap to come into my vicinity.
He strolls inside wearing nonchalance like a second skin and psychopathy as a personality trait. Pressed black ankle-length pants add elegance to his long legs, and the crisp white shirt that’s tucked in them outlines his lean waist and broad shoulders.
His hair is styled and I can smell the expensive cologne that seems to be made exclusively for him.
A chill spreads down my spine as my flight response zings through every fiber of my being.
I need to run.
Run…
Landon stops beside my chair and wraps a casual hand around my shoulder as if it’s the most natural motion in the world.
His fingers dig in the bare skin of my upper arm, keeping me completely immobile. My temperature rises and, to my horror, it has nothing to do with rage and more to do with an outrageous sensation.
Like how good his touch feels.
How much my body is starved for the intensity.
The manhandling.
The unknown.