Deviant King (Royal Elite 1)

“I can live with not being adorable.”

“I meant you’re not expressive. The star image doesn’t count. I know it’s a mask.”

“You know it’s a mask, huh?”

“Would you stop repeating what I say?”

“Do you know how euphoric it feels to get under your skin, Frozen?”

“How the hell would I know that?”

“Exactly.” He chuckles, reaching a hand to pinch my cheek. “You should see how red these get. Do I affect you that much?”

I wiggle away from his touch. “More like you infuriate me.”

“You can lie to me all you want, sweetheart. But do you think it’s a good idea to lie to yourself?”

“Maybe we all lie to ourselves.” I mirror his gesture and lean on my palm. It’s a way to disarm him, make him believe that he’s getting to me. “You, too, have a mask all the time.”

“A mask, huh?”

“What? You’ll deny that you show the world a calculated image of who you want them to believe you are?”

“It comes with the family name.” He winks. “I can’t be a sobbing, emotional mess if I’m going to be a leader.”

I focus on him. Like really focus on him. Not the arsehole Aiden, the school’s king, or Elites’ ace striker, but the other Aiden. The Aiden King. Heir to King Enterprises.

If he’s so mature at this age and knows exactly how to behave and what to do for his leadership position, he must’ve had a lot of pressure growing up.

Sociopaths are made.

My spine jerks at that idea.

Was he… abused? Not that it excuses what he did — and continues to do — to me, but that could put some pieces of the puzzle together.

I take a sip from the water. “Was your father hard on you?”

“I wasn’t abused by either of my parents if that’s what you’re thinking about.”

Damn. I wasn’t smooth enough in bringing out my assumptions.

There’s no helping it now that it’s out in the open.

“If it wasn’t your father, then were you abused by someone else?”

He stares at me. Hard. The energy radiating off him becomes foggy and suffocating.

If his eyes were his hands, he would’ve choked the life out of me by now.

A waitress stands at our table, interrupting the moment.

“Mineral water, please,” I say.

“Boiled eggs. Bacon. Large protein shake.” Aiden lists without looking at the menu. “And a vegetarian breakfast menu with zero fatty acids.”

My lips part. I was going to ask if they have any non-fatty acid breakfast menus since most restaurants don’t.

The waitress scribbles our order, nods, and leaves.