Page 76 of The Heir

Chapter sixteen

Between Us

My legs shake hard as we walk past the foyer and into the main hallway that leads to the double doors of the dining room. I wiggle my toes in the comfort of the plush rug as King opens the doors himself and ushers me through first with a hand on my back.

I walk slow, the only thing holding me up at this point is hunger. I haven't eaten today, and only ate once yesterday, but I can't even remember it because I was drugged.

At the reminder of my forced marriage I roll my lips and stiffen against his hand. I just can't believe the fucker actually did it.Drugged meto do it.

Who does that?

I get he's a smooth talker, successful, used to getting what he wants, and arrogant. But honest to God, what possesses a person to think they can just pluck a person out of their life and place them into theirs? What aremy friends Brittany and Tiffany thinking? It's been almost three days since I saw them at the art gala.

And what about my mother and Melody?

Am I going to ever be allowed to see them again? And if so, when? When he's sure the Stockholm syndrome sticks?

The worst part about all of this is how I feel. Despite all the reasons why I should currently be hating him, be an incessant 'hellion' as he so likes to call me, I can't help but be insanely attracted to him. There's just something about King that calls to me. It's more than charisma. What King is is magnetic. Powerful enough to steal your breath and grant you life.

And he does it with nothing more than alook.

I sniff, lowering myself ever so carefully into the seat King holds out to me before scooting me in. He reaches around me and snags my napkin, shaking it out with a snap and placing it over my thighs in a move so smooth he must have done it a thousand times before. The thought makes my nose scrunch and my lip curl with jealousy. Thinking of him being with other women makes me feel evil. Like the demon he just called me in the bedroom.

I tighten my lips and look at him out the side of my eye, seeing him settle himself into his seat. Sweetie jumps into my lap and lays down, making biscuits on my thighs. I stroke her fur while King talks with Marriane who'd just come up behind me with two decanters. One for me, and one for King.

"Can we go ahead and have our salad and shrimp please, before the main course?" he asks Marianne quietly who begins pouring our drinks.

"Yes, sir," she says, however I tsk and lean forward grabbing the decanter out of her hand. All this being waited on hand and foot is starting to get a little suffocating.

"Thank you, Marianne," I say, giving her a little look that she returns with a secret grin for me.

She exits through a door that I presume leads to the kitchen, and as I pour my white wine, the fingers of my free hand strum anxiously on the tabletop. I put the decanter down as his phone pings from his pocket.

When he pulls it out to check a notification, I lean over fast and snatch it out of his hand and then slide it as hard as I can down the table. I turn my head back to his, and he furrows his brow as he watches it spin smoothly away, his hand frozen in midair as the device slides completely off the table and then clatters to the floor at the opposite end.

I narrow my eyes at him, daring him to say a word. His eyes flick back to mine.

He doesn't.

The silence swells between us as his hand hits the table with a thump, and we just stare rather blankly at each other. I pull my eyes from his incredulous ones, pursing my lips as I gaze into the gold wine in front of me. I count to one hundred before I trust myself to speak.

"Am I going to see them again?" I ask softy, keeping my eyes on my glass.

"Who?" he asks, his voice slightly confused. A log splits, punctuating the awkwardness between us.

Really?

"My family,"I whisper, feeling a tear slip down my cheek. "Who the hell do youthinkI'm talking about?"

His head tilts, and a look of surprise passes his face. "Yes."

I tear my eyes away, glancing down at the empty placemat, rolling my lips, trying not to break down in tears. "You don't get to be on your phone in front of me when I don't even have a chance to have mine."

"Okay. That's fine, Izzy." A couple minutes pass. "Isobel," he says. "I-"

Narrowing my eyes at him, I will the tears away as I ignore him speaking. "And if you ever drug me again I will slit your throat in your sleep."

His lips tighten as he regards me with a wary expression. "I'm sorry, Isobel."

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