Playing with Fire: A Standalone Dark Romance

Chapter Eighteen

I jump onto the couch, sinking into the mountain of cushions, the pile of snacks between me and Willow scattering.

“God, this is too good,” Willow howls with laughter, “He actually caught you fingering yourself!?”

My cheeks burn at the memory even if my anger at him far outweighs my embarrassment, “Yes.” I grumble.

I’ve purposely left out the part where he sucked my fingers into his mouth, she’d eat that shit up and I don’t want to have that conversation. Or how it made me feel for that couple minutes after.

The shock turned arousal tore through me like a hurricane but in true Malakai fashion, he stamped out those flames pretty quickly. He infuriates me.

But I am secretly thankful for the tour since I never would have known about this media room without it and it’s now the scene for mine and Willow’s night while Malakai is off doing god knows what with god knows who.

I gnaw on my lip as an array of possibilities swim through my mind, but when the thoughts spiral to other women, namely the woman from the wedding, I shut it down. Did it matter if he had a mistress? This isn’t a real marriage after all, just a piece of paper to satisfy whatever it is he requires.

“You got that little line between your brows that tells me you’re thinking really hard about something. And you’re grinding your teeth.” Willow pops a skittle into her mouth, grabbing the remote to pause the movie we haven’t watched a minute of. “What is it?”

“Oh no,” I lie, “It’s nothing.”

She purses her lips, not believing me, but she knows when to push and when not to, and thankfully she drops it, changing the conversation. “Are you ready for the event?”

“Event?”

She flicks her eyes to me, “Yes. The winter ball. It’s at your hotel, Oli. How do you not know about this? Malakai organized it.”

“Of course he did,” I pinch the bridge of my nose, a headache suddenly knocking at my temples. “God, he fucking annoys me.”

“Just sounds like you need to get a little pay back,” Willow shrugs.

I pause, looking at her, “What do you have in mind?”

“I was just going to suggest some good old-fashioned hate fucking but I see that look in your eye, Oli. You want to raise hell with him.”

“Damn right, I do.”

She chuckles, “Just make his days a little less easy. Small things to drive him mad.”

A smirk tugs at my mouth as ideas begin to form.

“You’re a genius,” I smack a kiss on her cheek.

“No, no,” She wags her finger, “I had nothing to do with this, in fact, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is that your way of saying to keep you out of it?”

“Exactly,” She laughs, “I’m not playing these games.”

“Spoil sport,” I roll my eyes.

“No, I just don’t want to be the third wheel when it eventually leads to the hate fucking.”

“There will be no hate fucking or fucking at all.”

“Mmhmm, if you say so.”

Dennis drives Willow home sometime after eleven, and with the house quiet I decide to go to bed myself. I haven’t seen Malakai once this evening and I hope to be asleep whenever he decides to come to bed.

I take a quick shower before I change into my pajamas and then grab a few of the pillows to build a wall down the middle of the bed, tucking them in tight with the sheets, clearly dividing the bed in two.

There’ll be no waking up on his chest again. Or dicks in my face.

When I wake up the following morning, it’s way before the sun has even risen, the pillows dividing the bed are a mess but still in place and in what little light there is, I see him.

He’s led on his back, chest rising and falling steadily as he sleeps.

If it were lighter, I might have studied how he looks when he sleeps. Were the severe brows relaxed now? The scowl on his face gone or do those things stay with him, even in sleep?

I don’t have time to find out.

I may not have the sway he does or the power, but I can be a petty bitch.

And I’m okay with that.

As quietly as I can, I climb from the bed, creeping into the closet to grab some clothes for the day before I lock myself in the bathroom where I do everything I need to, to get ready for the day.

Dressed and somewhat presentable, I sneak back out into the bedroom, the room growing lighter as dawn begins to break, transforming the dark sky into hues of oranges and red as the sun sets fire to the clouds.

It’s almost eerie being up in the house before the day has yet to begin but even though it’s barely seven thirty, I can hear a few people wandering the huge mansion. Voices travel through the walls and footsteps echo down the halls, making it seem that people are close but whenever I turn to see if I’m being joined by one of the many staff Malakai employs, I’m met with empty space.

It runs a shiver down my spine, even though there is a logical explanation for it. It’s that same feeling when you turn off all the lights downstairs and have to bolt to your bedroom because all those childhood fears of monsters under your bed, and in your closet, come back to haunt you.

I race down to the kitchen the rest of the way. It’s still dark when I enter, but I can hear whistling coming from the pantry.

“Hello?” I call, trying to be quiet but not wanting to startle whoever it is.

“Mrs. Farrow?” Louis’s voice travels out from the open door and I relax a little at the friendly company.

“Olivia,” I correct.

He comes out with an armful of ingredients, a smile on his face, “Olivia,” He widens his eyes dramatically, “You’re up and ready bright and early today.”

“I’m a morning person.” I lie with a shrug.

If he doesn’t believe me, he doesn’t call me on it, “Pancakes?” He asks.

“I’d love some.”

I make myself some coffee, eyeing the pot of sugar stationed next to the machine, “Does Malakai take sugar in his coffee?” I ask, wrapping my hands around the fresh cup.

“Two,” Louis replies absently, mixing up the batter.

“Does anyone else?”

Louis shrugs, “Not sure, Olivia, the staff have a separate kitchen with their own supplies.”

I try to stifle the grin that attempts to pull on my mouth. I just needed to get Louis out of the room for like five minutes.

He’s busy at the counter while I drink my coffee, the sun almost fully risen beyond the windows and the house still caught in that sleepy state between night and day.

“Oh,” I click my fingers, coming up with a plan I hope will work. Guilt eats at me for manipulating Louis since he’s just so nice, but I needed him out of the room. “I saw a bunch of boxes and crates in the foyer when I came down.” I tell him, “Looked like a delivery of some sort.”

He frowns as he checks his watch, “The food delivery isn’t supposed to be here till this afternoon. Honestly, these people can’t get anything right. Did you know they left a whole delivery of perishables outside the door in the middle of August?”

“No,” I feign horror, that guilt swirling heavily in my stomach.

“Mm,” He grunts, “Let me go check that quick. You good in here?”

“Perfect,” I give him my best smile and watch him leave the room before I’m rushing toward the pantry. I find what I’m looking for pretty quickly and I’m back out in less than a few seconds. Grabbing the sugar, I dump it into a cup and hide it before I empty the contents of what’s in my hand into the jar.

It’s juvenile and ridiculous, but I can’t find it in me to care.

“Hey Olivia?” Louis calls just as I’m putting the lid back on the sugar pot.

“Yeah?” I answer.

“Where did you see those boxes?”

“In the foyer, are they not there anymore?” My teeth capture my lip nervously.

“I didn’t see anything.”

“Maybe someone already got to them then,” I shrug, heading to the island to take a seat on a stool.

I have a stack of pancakes in front of me when Malakai strolls into the kitchen, dressed in a grey pair of sweats and a form fitting white tee and I almost choke on the piece I have in my mouth. I’ve only seen him in suits, I didn’t even know the man owned casual but own it he does.

Fuck, he looks good in that. I can see the ridges and dips of his muscles through that skintight tee, his hair still messy from sleep, the growth around his mouth and up his cheeks thicker than it was the day before like he’s just rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing he found.

I like this just woke look, it makes him seem more human.

My eyes don’t stray from him as he heads to the coffee machine, placing a cup down before he presses the button and drags the sugar pot towards him.

And I continue to watch as he drops two heaped spoons into the freshly made brew and brings it to his lips.