THE PERFECT DECEPTION

Chapter 2

Jonathan King

I oversee the city as dawn breaks swiftly, with cars weaving through the streets. My gaze sweeps the world like a chessboard, the passersby mere pawns. My grandfather once established the King's legacy, which my father squandered through gambling.

My father was many things, but not a fool of the modest power he wielded. I possess POWER and CONTROL, instilling fear with my name. My mother still mentions him with a smile, as though he were still here, disregarding his infidelity right before her eyes.

People mistook her for my father's mistress and mocked her persistent smile.

My mother, Caroline King, was a beacon of kindness that influenced my brothers. Nicolas King, a brilliant mind in publishing and media, found success with his elaborate threats. At 45, he excels in magazines and newspapers, his baby blue eyes a gift from our mother. Yet, he harbors a broken heart, shared with no one but himself, always the man with a smile.

Levi King, whose grin could brighten our Mother's Day, is 37 and spends his time in his art studio or staining a white canvas. His charm and French lessons have made him the world's most sought-after bachelor. The amounts of condoms left in his room should be made into artwork. 

I am the outcast, with a heart scarred by a metaphorical knife. At the age of 20, my father succumbed to a stroke, leaving nothing behind as he had spent every penny on himself. I raised Levi and Nicolas, providing them with an education that was beyond my reach. My mother cares for me, even though she frowns every time she gazes into my grey eyes.

I became the villain in the game, whether it was fair or not. Men pleaded with me to cease, some even offering their innocent daughters, but I did not relent, and I will not stop until I lose control of everything. I was devoid of emotion, something even the devil couldn't influence. I remained unyielding, never bowing to another's will or my frailties.

I sighed deeply as my computer screen shone against the window. Nicolas's groans filled the air, his lips moving over a file of women, just after my mother reminded me of my age, 47 years old. She desires to see me married, with children to carry on my name, and I am desperate for any woman willing to step into the facade of a relationship.

It was a brilliant strategy to appease my mother while keeping my focus until my inevitable end. "Veronica Black is—" I cut off his deep, somewhat robotic voice. "Her father is too involved; no one would believe the match."

''Cette dame is crazy like the other woman you mentioned, she was bad in bed. However, I did say I was the worst at picking girls,'' Levi sported a playful grin, reflected in the window. I turned around, setting my collar with an icy expression. As I sat by my computer, my gaze landed on them both.

My eyes traced the contours of her face, a wide smile blooming on her lips. Her eyes, brimming with expression, seemed to taunt me as I observed her. She returned my gaze with curiosity as I perused her profile, my finger lightly tracing the name 'Anupama Joshi.' It was as unique as her demeanor, which concealed a fervent passion.

"Did you even like any of the girls I chose?" Nicolas inquired, annoyance creasing his brow. I returned his gaze impassively. "No," I replied curtly, turning back to my laptop. Nicolas had captured something compelling in 'TIMES.' She radiated happiness, her cheeks flushed like ripening cherries.

"I give up!" Nicolas declared, his exasperation pulling me from my musings. "You want a robot, not a girl," he grumbled, taking a sip of whiskey, his short fuse and unchecked emotions on full display.

"I tried to warn you, Niko. Our dear brother is heartless, unaffected by any beauty that crosses his path," Levi sighed. My expression remained stoic; Levi's antics no longer surprised me, not since we found him inebriated by the poolside of his apartment.

My gaze returns to the screen as the article touches briefly on her background: India, four children, one of whom has passed away, and two husbands by the age of 40. Her history is a tangle of threads, leaving one to wonder which she might pull next.

I stroke my chin, careful not to let my eyes trace the contours of her figure as it narrows at her waist. I've memorized her face, each pore on her skin. I've observed how her hands betray her nervousness and how she undervalues herself in the eyes of others.

She stands in stark contrast to me, one who devours the emotions of others for breakfast and sleeps without disturbance. She is the enigma that glowed more intensely that night, her name whispered in the shadows. "Anupama Joshi," I whisper, trailing my finger along the outline of her hair.

There was an unknown pull she had on me that didn't exist before. She is the moon who is being shined at by the sun. 

The warmth was palpable as Nicolas and Levi propped their elbows on the back of the chair, gazing at my screen. "Anupama Joshi," Levi remarked, his tone laced with curiosity as he cocked his head.

"The one from the cooking show?" Nicolas inquired, to which I gave a soft nod, unwilling to engage in conversation with two grown men meddling in my affairs as if they were spies. "Damn," Levi whistled, perusing her background not as a matter of judgment but as a fact to be recognized.

"Yes, the unfortunate truth about Anupama Joshi," Nicolas said, his smile reflecting the pride of an article that celebrated her victory. "You didn't have to. It's what she has achieved, and judging by the taste of her food, she is indeed accomplished," I replied, my voice tinged with an icy detachment, still not moving.

Levi scoffed at my words, "Have you found someone who interests you?" His smile morphed into a mischievous smirk. He crossed his arms over his chest as I scanned him from top to bottom, devoid of any emotion.

"It's futile, my little brother, this man is devoid of emotion, viewing this innocent woman merely as a subject to study," Nicolas states, a tinge of anger in his voice. Levi shrugs and clicks his tongue, "You can't fault an artist for hoping his 47-year-old uptight brother would consider dating. He's tarnishing my reputation."

I give him a menacing glare that immediately dissolves his theatrical pout, "Life is a game, Levi, and we must rise to the top to win it." My voice carries no bitterness, maintaining a formal tone unaffected by any surrounding laughter.

"Her life is not a game," asserts Nicolas firmly, prompting a twist in my mind, a dark thought of binding her to me in an eternal game where I dissect her piece by piece until I understand every facet of her being.

She is perfect, from her age to her background, a woman intriguing enough to engage in simple conversation and exude that blend of lavender and mango. I snap my fingers; she yearns to break free from the chains of her past life. SHE WILL BE FREE. Yet, a single signature on a contract will link us forever.

A cruel smirk spreads across my being, "Her life isn't a game, but her existence is the ideal solution for me."

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Please vote and comment what you think of Jonathan. 

He says he won't go on his knees what a life and that he won't lose control. 

I hope you enjoyed a double update and see you next week. 

I love you'll. 

Thank you'll so much. 

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