“Killian doesn’t see it that way. He feels that you’re unable to respect that part of her. So I probed a bit more and he told me what he knows. The story happened when Killian was nine and Mia was about eight years old. Maya and Mia were being driven home when they were attacked in the middle of the road. One bodyguard got killed, but the other managed to protect the girls. However, one of the assailants reached in and took both of them. Mia struggled, kicked, and bit his hand until he released Maya. In the end, she was the only one who got kidnapped. The other bodyguard managed to get Maya home safely. For three days, they didn’t have any news. Her parents expected a ransom call, but they didn’t get one in the beginning.
“Killian said that was the darkest time for their family. Her parents mobilized the entirety of their resources in the Russian mafia to find her. They closed New York and flipped it upside down in search of the assailant, but they came up empty. Just when they were about to go crazy, they got a call. The kidnapper wanted twenty-five million sent to an offshore bank account, and only when they made the transfer would he tell them her location. If they didn’t agree to his demands, he would’ve still told them her location, but she would have been dead. Naturally, they made the transfer, and he sent them a GPS location. They found Mia balled up in a fetal position inside a dark, humid basement. She was starved and had a bloody lip and welts on her body, but she wasn’t crying. The doctor said that while she was hit, thankfully, she wasn’t sexually assaulted. But ever since then, she’s never spoken a word, and the professionals ruled it as mental rather than physical.”
My fingers tighten on the bottle so hard, I’m surprised I don’t crush it to pieces and watch my blood spill on the ground.
Just listening to what happened to her triggers an avalanche of feelings I know so well. It’s similar to when those twats made Bran the joke of the school, but these emotions are a lot stronger in intensity and could only be categorized as black rage.
Someone had the audacity not only to terrorize my Mia but also to threaten and traumatize her enough to steal her voice for a whole decade.
“She went through a lot,” Bran comments with a hunch in his shoulders.
“What else?” I ask in a slightly tight tone that even I don’t recognize.
Glyn watches me carefully. “That’s all. Mia’s parents searched all over the world for her kidnapper but found no trace of him. They suspected it could have been one of the bodyguards who disclosed the route since only they and her parents knew about it, but one of them died and the one who survived brought Maya home while badly injured, so if he had been in on it, he would’ve had Maya taken as well. They’ve been at a stalemate since then. It doesn’t help that Mia never disclosed any details about what happened.”
Because she was threatened by the fucking bastard who’ll wish he was dead the moment I find him.
“Does her family have any theories? Suspects?”
Glyn lifts her shoulders. “Not really. They definitely suspect it was an enemy of either or both of them, but that’s apparently a given in the mafia. Even Annika, Jeremy’s sister, was nearly kidnapped a few times. This is the only time they’ve gotten away with it, though.”
No, they haven’t.
If my calculations are correct, there’s one possible theory that none of them seem to have considered. But in order for that possibility to work, I need to confirm a few things first.
“Not sure if that helps…” Glyn trails off.
“It does.” I abandon my beer, then stand and ruffle her hair. “Thanks, little princess.”
She stares up at me with a parted mouth before she nods and lets her lips pull in a smile. “Sure.”
I head to my walk-in. “Feel free to hang out with the drama king, Remi, or Creigh if he’s around. I’m going out.”
“I’ll ask the girls to join me,” Glyn throws back and I hear her footsteps retreating from the room.
Other footsteps, however, approach me. I remove my shirt and dunk it in the laundry bin, then stare at my brother.
Bran leans against the doorframe, arms and ankles crossed. A rare gleam and subtle smugness shine through his eyes.
“What?”
“You just thanked Glyn for the first time ever.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I must’ve thanked her before.” I click the wardrobe button and watch my crisp, ironed shirts roll before me.
“No, you haven’t. You’re too egotistical to thank others or even see merits in them.”
“The only people whose merits I refuse to honor with even a glance are incompetent fools. Glyn doesn’t belong on that endless list.”
“Because she shares your genes?”
“Precisely.” I snatch an off-white shirt. “And she’s also never been daft. Just a bit too hung up on emotions for my taste, but oh well, as you constantly remind me, not everyone is built from the same genius clay you and I are made of.”
“You…think you and I are the same?”
“We’re identical twins, Bran.”
“Not in thinking.”
“Not one hundred percent, no.” I put on my shirt and start to button it as I look at him with a tilted head. “But you’re suppressing something, and as long as you’re doing that, we’re not too far off in hiding our secrets, are we?”
A somber look passes in his eyes, and if I weren’t in such a hurry, I’d explore it with more vigor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You never do, Bran.” I grab his shoulder and squeeze on my way out. “You never do.”
He catches my arm. “Where are you going?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not off to instigate a new war unless chess counts.”
“You’re really just going to play chess?”
“I know, right? I’ve become too boring for my own good.”
He gives me a quizzical glance, but he lets me go. “Remember, Lan. If you fall back into your manipulation and chaos patterns, it won’t work.”
“Yes, Mum.” I do a mock salute and I’m rewarded with Bran’s snickering.
On my way out of the mansion, I shoot my cousin Eli a text.
Landon: Remember the exchange of favors we once talked about?
Eli: Ready to go down like a little bitch?
Landon: Only if you turn into a smaller bitch than my highness.
Eli: Your arrogance will get you killed one day.
Landon: Not when your arrogance is alive and thriving. Now, as much as I love talking shit, I need something.
Eli: The question is, do you need it enough to lose your bargaining chip?
Landon: Yes.
Eli: Prepare to lose the race as the best King grandchild.
I ignore him. Eli thinks that I have only one bargaining chip, but he’ll learn, after I get what I want, that there’s no pushing Landon King to the side, not even by the hands of another King.
After sending him instructions about the possible proof that can make my theory a reality, I drive to the chess club.
Now, I don’t expect Mia to show up after she specifically asked me not to pester her, but it doesn’t hurt to try.
Yes. Unfortunately, I’ve become so irrevocably obsessed with the little muse that I’m surviving on the mere hope of being able to see her.
Desperate much? Abso-fucking-lutely.
I park my McLaren opposite the entrance and step out, only to be greeted by the most miserable weather England has to offer. The wind slaps me across the face, and I close my eyes to ward off the assault. When I open them, I see none other than Mia getting out of her car.
My lips pull in a wide smile.
Despite her occasional reluctance, she can’t get enough of me either, and her face lights up whenever we meet. Which is why I had a hunch she would be here…
As she approaches me, her black tulle dress swishes, and her ribbons fly in the wind. She comes to a slow halt in front of me, her eyes entirely fucking wrong.
I cross my arms even as I keep my smile in place—only, it’s much more fake now. “I thought we weren’t supposed to meet since you’re apparently scared shitless of everyone in your family finding out about us. Changed your mind?”
“This is my club, too, last I checked,” she signs and lifts her chin.
“Which you knew I’d be coming to. Does that mean you miss me?”
“In your dreams.”
“I’ll take that as you don’t mind Nikolai and the others finding out about our very secret, very intimate rendezvous.”
Her cheeks heat and rage blares in her eyes that are more wrong than vanilla sex.
“It doesn’t matter, because I’m getting bored and could send you packing any second. In fact, I’m doing it right now.”