God of Ruin (Legacy of Gods, #4)(10)

So I stopped altogether.

I’m just under a lot of stress lately or I wouldn’t have done that today. It could also be because of the nightmares—

“I’ll play against her.”

My spine jerks and that familiar chill snakes to the bottom of my tight belly.

It can’t be.

I must be imagining things.

I don’t turn around to the source of the voice, though.

If I pretend I didn’t hear it, that means it didn’t happen. Who knows? Maybe my ears are catching up to my tongue and are also becoming dysfunctional.

A shadow stops in front of me, and this time, I do raise my head. My audible gasp nearly chokes me as my eyes clash with none other than Landon fucking King’s.

For the second time in my life, I’m speechless. No, I’m stunned. Everything about this man is unsettling and none of his charm is able to camouflage it.

It’s unfair that he always looks as if he jumped right off of a runway or out of a brand commercial. A crisp white button-down is tucked into his tailored black slacks, highlighting his sculpted waist. There’s an effortless elegance in the way he carries himself, highlighted by a sharp presence and a sardonic smirk.

Unlike a few days ago, a slight stubble covers his cutting jaw, giving him a subtle ruthless edge.

The bastard sure knows how to use the weapons that are at his disposal. Beauty, style, and infuriating charm.

He cocks his head to the side, and the same grin from the other night curls his lips. Provocative, sinful, but most importantly, dangerous.

“Landon.” Mr. Whitby clutches his shoulder in a friendly greeting. “Long time no see.”

Long time no see? Long time no fucking see?

Please don’t tell me this bastard is a member of this club.

“Frank,” Landon greets the president with the familiarity of close acquaintances, his smile subtly switching to appear welcoming. “I missed this place and the people in it, so I thought I’d pay a visit.”

Everyone, and I mean every single one in the hall, either smiles or stands up to surround the freak in a close-knit circle.

The women basically fight for his attention, and he acts like some sort of celebrity. Unlike a celebrity, however, he knows all their names and compliments one lady on her new haircut, another on her flattering glasses, and another on her cardigan. He also greets the men in a bro kind of way, and they all nod enthusiastically.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I watch the show with my mouth agape. This must be what Bran meant by “You’ve never seen Lan in action. He can be the most charming or the deadliest depending on his mood and goals.”

Now, I see it. The other side of Landon that I’ve only heard about but never had the misfortune to witness.

He captures people’s attention with ease. It’s clear that he’s a natural at this and can’t possibly be challenged at his own game, let alone beaten.

The worst part is that people flock to his presence with the suicidal tendencies of a moth to a flame. In no time, I’m the only one who’s standing outside the circle, an outcast through and through.

Mr. Whitby clears his throat and manages to break the circle from around Landon.

Suddenly, I’m back in Prince Not-So-Charming’s field of vision. Somewhere I definitely don’t want to be after I single-handedly destroyed his party the other night.

“All right, everyone,” Mr. Whitby says. “Landon came to play, so how about we let him do that?”

The man of the hour, as he probably thinks of himself, slides his attention to me while still wearing a destabilizing grin that could rival a serial killer’s.

“Landon, this is Mia.” Mr. Whitby motions at me. “She’s unable to speak, but she can hear you just fine. If she needs to communicate, she’ll write you a note on her phone. Oh, and she happens to be the best I’ve played in chess after you.”

Did he just say after you?

Mr. Whitby, I was just building you an English gentleman shrine in my head, but how dare you place me after this asshole?

“After me, huh?” Landon echoes, and I swear a light glows in his eyes, making them brighter and more sadistic.

“Yes. She’s such an intelligent young lady and a formidable opponent. I wish I could stay to watch you two play.”

“Now, I’m intrigued.” The bastard, who definitely doesn’t resemble Bran in anything but looks, smiles again. How could he make something as simple as a smile drip with unhealthy charm and satanic voodoo?

I reluctantly sit at the vacant table in the corner. The biggest part of me wants to flee and reconsider devil worshiping to curse the man in front of me, but if I do that, it’ll only look suspicious.

Besides, there’s no way Landon knows I’m the one who humiliated him in front of his pretentious wannabes.

Still, my movements are stiff as I sit opposite him. So much for relaxing and shutting down my mind.

It’s safe to say this whole situation is failing sideways.

I busy myself with pushing the white pieces exactly in the middle of the tiles.

“We meet again.”

I slowly lift my head, only for my gaze to crash with his sardonic one and that taunting smirk at the corner of his lips.

Keeping my expression the same, I type on my phone, “Who are you again?”

The moment he sees the words, he bursts out laughing. “You’re an interesting little mouse.”