It’s me.” He smiles with so much warmth, I want to poke his eyes out and shove him back to the grave he crawled out of.
It is him, I recognised him as the man rather than Elsa’s father.
Ethan Steel — Jonathan’s former friend and most worthy rival.
He’s aged since the last time I saw him, but he still has the same black tailored suits style as Jonathan. He still sports his chestnut hair slicked back with purpose and power; he still wears Prada shoes and diamond cuffs and a watch that costs a third world country’s yearly budget.
He’s Steel Empire’s emperor back for his heir.
Elsa’s bottom lip trembles as if she’s about to cry, but there are no tears. When I look closer, I can almost see Ethan’s reflection in her electric blue eyes.
She takes a shaky step forward. Her damp blond strands stick to her face and wet clothes, but I’d bet one of my limbs she’s not trembling because of the cold.
I grab her arm, stopping her from taking another step. She doesn’t acknowledge me and continues to try getting to her father.
“Get your hands off of my daughter. Now.” Ethan orders in an authoritative tone that would’ve scared any other person.
Ethan isn’t a man to be taken lightly. He’s as ruthless as Jonathan, if not more. If he puts someone in his sight, he won’t stop until that person is eradicated. The fact that he rose from the dead is one more proof of his ruthless personality.
But he doesn’t scare me.
The only person I care about is this beautiful girl who won’t even acknowledge my existence.
“Let her go, Aiden,” Jonathan finally speaks.
I tune him out. “Elsa, look at me.”
She doesn’t.
I stroke my thumb along her arm, caressing softly. “Sweetheart, look at me.”
“Are you engaged to Silver?” Elsa continues staring at her father, but her words are directed at me.
The sudden question stops me in my tracks. How do I answer this without triggering her ugly side?
“It’s not what you—”
“Yes or no?” She cuts me off, still not sparing me a glance.
I grind my molars at the apathetic way she’s addressing me. I can’t blame her, but my brain crowds with only one thought: throw her over my shoulder and get her the fuck out of here.
I’m restraining myself only because she’s reuniting with her father and will never forgive me for taking her away. And while I don’t give a fuck about him or anyone else in this room, I give lots of fucks about her.
“Elsa, there’s so much you need to know,” I speak in my calmest tone.
“It’s a simple question, Aiden. Yes or no?”
“Yes.” My left eye twitches as I say the word.
Elsa goes completely still; she doesn’t even blink.
I expect her to turn around and hit me. I would let her. If it’ll help her blow off steam, I’ll let her hit me all she likes. As long as she finally fucking faces me, I’m ready to do just about anything.
She jerks her arm out of my grip. My hand curls into a fist by my side, but I don’t grab her again.
It guts me to have her close and not touch her, but if I reach out for her, I’m really kidnapping her the fuck out of here.
All the shaking from earlier disappears. Her spine jerks upright, and her chin lifts high as she takes purposeful strides in her father’s direction. Away from me.
“Elsa.” Her name leaves my lips like a pained growl.
“Let’s go home,” she tells her father with such determination, it echoes around the room.
Ethan wraps an arm around his daughter’s shoulders. She snuggles to his side like a kitten.
He nods in our direction. “Looking forward to crushing you, Jonathan.”
Then he’s out of the door, Elsa and Van Doren walking on either side of him.
Go after her.
Bring her back.
Kidnap her if you have to.
It takes everything in me not to follow my beast’s demands. If I use any type of force with her it’ll only backfire and burn me. If some distance will help cool her down, then so fucking be it.
For now.
I face Jonathan, expecting him to be seething about Ethan’s sudden appearance.
My father likes to use the element of surprise, but he sure as fuck doesn’t like to be its victim. Ethan’s rise from the dead has shuffled all of his cards and ruined the plan he’s been concocting for ten years.
A sadistic smirk sits on his lips. He flops on the sofa and forms a church steeple at