Playing with Fire: A Standalone Dark Romance

Chapter Four

You are cordially invited to attend the wedding of Olivia Lauder and Malakai Farrow.

My palms are sweating as I stare down at the invitation in my hand. An invitation to my own wedding. This Sunday.

As in one day from now.

One fucking day.

What the fuck!?

I’d screamed his name the moment I realized what I was holding but the prick never came back and like fuck would I be leaving this damn room to chase him down. One, I’ll likely get lost because I was too angry at him for stealing my phone to get my bearings on which halls we went down, and what doors we entered when he brought me to this bedroom, and two, he seemed to be getting off on riling me up and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

I won’t be leaving this room until they drag me out, that’s for sure.

It had everything I needed anyway, an ensuite, stocked fully with creams and lotions, soaps and shampoos. There’s a mini fridge with snacks and drinks, including wine. I can just pretend I’m staying in some fancy country manor hotel, and this isn’t really happening.

I text Willow, letting her know I’m fine – as much as I can be anyway – and go to the closet, assuming all my things have been unpacked already since there are no boxes or bags laying around. But the closets are empty save for a long bath robe hanging from the pole, and the drawers are too. There isn’t a single item of mine here.

Maybe it hadn’t arrived yet and Malakai was just fucking with me when he said they were here? I think, as I kick off my shoes and head over to the bed in the center of the room, sitting on the soft surface and placing a foot onto my knee so I can massage the arch. All that walking through the house did a number on them. No one would talk to me, not properly anyway, they just kept telling me to speak with Mr. Farrow, it didn’t matter that I didn’t know how to get back to the pretentious idiot.

It”s how I ended up at the top of the stairs, sat on the hard floor as I scrolled Instagram.

But a wedding… already?

I groan as I fall down onto my back, sinking into the bed. Why so damn soon?

Either way, he can screw off if he thinks I’ll be joining him for dinner.

No. You know what I’m going to do?

I’m going to make use of that huge claw foot tub in the bathroom and sink to my nose in a bubble bath.

Decision made, I start to strip, unzipping my skirt before I pick it up and fold it on the bed, I do the same to my blouse and walk in my underwear to the bathroom.

I am going to make his life a living hell. How, I’m not sure yet but I’ll figure it out.

I am not a violent person, I never have been, but I’ll think up ways that’ll hurt in every sense but physically.

With the water running, I rifle through the drawers looking for a hairband to tie my hair back and once that’s found, I make use of the cleansing oils to remove my makeup. I should probably question why he has all this stuff but that would mean talking to him. My father used to tell me my stubbornness would get me in trouble one day and I guess that day has come to test the theory.

The bathroom fills with steam and the scent of lavender, thanks to the oils I added to the water and when it’s ready, I strip the rest of the way down, climbing into the boiling water. It’s almost too hot to sit down in so I hold my breath, sinking slowly beneath the bubbles.

I have no awareness of how much time passes as I lay in the tub but it’s long enough for my fingers to prune and the water to become more lukewarm than hot, so I get out, dry off and use the robe in the closet since I have no clothes in here. I wasn’t getting back into that skirt today, no thank you!

The sky has since turned a deep shade of periwinkle, the evening drawing in. I couldn’t wait for the days to be longer. I love summer over anything else, the heat, the freedom it brings.

Crouching in front of the mini fridge, I find an expensive bottle of white wine but no glasses anywhere in the room.

Was it acceptable to drink it straight from the bottle? There’s a small glass in the bathroom, which I assume should be used to rinse your mouth out but I’ve drank out of worse so I let my feet slap over the hard floors, noticing that they’re warm under my soles, and grab it, going back to the bed to make it up so I can watch videos on my phone.

With wine in my hand and a film playing on the tiny screen of my phone, I settle into the pillows, finally feeling somewhat relaxed given the circumstances.

I’m barely through the opening credits when a loud knock sounds on the door. I startle, the wine splashing over the rim.

“Who is it?” I yell, pulling at the edges of the robe.

“Miranda,” Comes a huffed reply.

“Miranda?” I say under my breath, “Do I know a Miranda?”

“I showed you through to Mr. Farrow.”

Oh, the lady who seemed like she never smiled.

“Um, what is it?”

“May I come in?”

“I’m not decent.”

I swear I hear her sigh. “Dinner will be served in the dining room in five minutes, Mr. Farrow has requested your presence.”

My lip curls, “Tell him I’m not coming.”

“Miss Lauder,” Miranda starts sternly.

“I am unwell,” I fake a cough, “I can’t make it.”

I wait, and I wait some more for a reply but when none comes, I figure I’m in the clear and get comfortable again, pressing play on the paused movie. The fruity flavor of the wine hits my tongue with a sigh, and I glance to the window, the sun setting so beautiful here. I can see the meadows, bathed in a wash of gold as the night chases away the final traces of the sun.

If the house and estate wasn’t owned by an absolute ass of a man, I might actually say this is a place I’d like to explore.

I’m about ten minutes into the film when the door opens so abruptly, I scream, throwing my wine across the sheets and my phone to the floor.

Malakai stands in the doorway, his eyes narrowed in on me where I’m poised in the middle of the mattress on my knees. The sleeve of my robe is wet with wine, and I can feel my knees getting wet too where the wine soaks the sheets.

“Sick, huh?” He growls, eyes flicking to the open bottle of wine on the bedside table and then to the floor where the film still plays on the tiny screen.

He cocks his head and then curls his finger, “Let’s go.”

“You can’t make me,” I sit back on my heels and cross my arms. Yes, I was being petulant, but fuck him.

“Should we test that theory, Olivia?”

The way he says my name sends warning bells ringing inside my head. It’s part threat, part purr, the tone of it licking down my spine as the rumble of his voice vibrates through me, all the way to my bones.

He steps forward, making good on that promise.

“Fine!” I snap, snatching up the bottle of wine from the bedside unit.

“There is wine on the table,” He sighs impatiently.

“Well, I want this one.”

I may as well stick out my tongue at him with the way I am acting.

He sucks his tongue against his teeth before he throws out an arm, letting me go first.

My feet slap loudly as I walk, the wine held by the bottleneck in a death grip. It feels like I’m doing my death march down this long corridor, but I hold my head high and turn left at the end, turning down another long hallway. This place is a damn maze.

Malakai clears his throat behind me, and I spin, ready to snap at him but he’s gesturing in the opposite direction I’m heading.

Head held high, I stomp back the other way, avoiding any part of my body touching any part of his. The wine sloshes around in the bottle as I take the stairs down to the ground floor, the smell of the food instantly hitting me in the face.

Oh, fuck that smells good.

“This way, kitten.”

“Stop calling me that!” I huff.

“But it fits you so well,” He’s suddenly behind me, his proximity sending zaps down my spine, “Especially when you’re stomping around with your claws out.”

His deep chuckle has my eyes narrowing. God, I hate him.

“Through here,” He guides me, “Pick any seat you want.”

I step into a room that is completely dominated by a table that can seat at least twenty. Bookshelves line one wall of the room and on the other side is just a wall of windows that stare out into a forest. It’s almost fully dark out but I can make out the trees that stretch into the sky, the bare limbs like skeleton hands clawing for the clouds.

There’s a spread of food on the table and a few members of Malakai’s staff standing at the edge of the room. A blush creeps up my neck and warms my cheeks as I realize I’m still in the robe and I am very naked underneath.

I choose a seat in the middle of the table, assuming Malakai will take his place at the head, but much to my absolute dismay, he chooses the seat directly opposite me. He grins at my scowl.

“You make it too easy, darling,” He plucks the covers off the dishes, and I’m hit with the direct aromas of all the food. Beef in a type of red wine sauce, sauteed greens and creamed potatoes all sit steaming in the middle of the table.

“Please help yourself,” he tells me, leaning back in his chair as he picks up his glass with two fingers of amber liquid. I wonder if it’s the whiskey I threw back earlier. That stuff was good, after it stopped burning of course.

I pour myself a glass of wine from the bottle I still have a strangle hold on and reach for the potatoes.

He watches the entire time, making my stomach knot with unease.

For a man who holds death like a set of playing cards, he sure doesn’t act like it in his home.

At the hotel where the deal was made, that man was the devil. He manipulated me, dangling my sister’s life in front of me, like she was tied to a string. Her or me. That was the choice. This man here though, sitting in front of me right now, they’re not the same. I fully understand it’s all a front, a disguise and it’s keeping me on edge, wondering when the real him will come out.

With a plate of food and a full wine glass I go about getting through this dinner quickly. I keep my eyes down, my fork moving as I shovel food into my face. It’s not lady like, it’s not elegant like I’ve always been taught. It’s messy. I’m pretty sure I have red wine sauce dripping down my chin and let’s not start with how the white wine and this food doesn’t pair.

But I’m not trying to impress him. I’m trying to repulse him.

I glance up, wondering if it’s working but all I am met with is a smirk.

The staff standing at the back of the room can hardly contain their horror, but Malakai is clearly finding this highly entertaining.

I grab the napkin and wipe my mouth.

“You’re fucking adorable.” He cocks his head as if studying something.

“And you’re a fucking asshole,” I give him my sweetest smile, fluttering my lashes like the pretty doll he thinks I am.

How do I make this man suffer!?

With his eyes on me, I watch him straighten the cutlery around his still empty plate and place his glass down meticulously on the slate coaster set up at the side. He spins his glass before he settles it down again, eyes on me the whole time.

They’re a deep blue around the edges, like dark denim which make them look a lot darker than they are, but in this light, I can see the almost neon centers, so blue they look electric.

Pretty, I think.

But then you pair them with the dark lashes, deep set brows and mess of dark hair, he looks menacing.

Okay, now I’m staring.

Dropping my eyes, I reach for my wine, downing the rest of it to the chorus of his laughter.