Playing with Fire: A Standalone Dark Romance

Chapter Twenty-five

“Skiing accident,” Sebastian leans back, a cruel grin spreading across his face, “How tragic.”

Killian chuckles as he throws down the folder onto my desk, Dean following him in. They both take their seats on the couches in front of the fire, Sebastian still grinning like a fool.

“You did the job?” I ask Killian who reaches for the whiskey in the middle of the table. I made sure to put out a bottle, so the fuckers don’t touch my shit.

“Pushed that fucker right off the edge of the cliff,” Dean tells me proudly.

“Well, I asked for an accident,” I shrug, flipping the cover on the folder.

The gruesome image of Bradley Vermont, the Third, with his head busted open, blood staining the pristine white snow is the first thing I see. His body is contorted at an awkward angle, skin pale with dark splotches, eyes wide open as he stares unseeingly toward the forest.

“Poor guy,” Killian shakes his head, “Never saw the drop coming. You’d expect more for a seasoned skier.”

Sebastian chuckles.

“I should be worried about how much fun you sick fucks have on a job,” I grin, closing the folder and open my laptop, hitting the button to wire over the money, split between the three of them.

Killian shrugs as he sips his whiskey and then reaches for the poker set beneath the table.

“What’s that beautiful wife of yours doing?” Sebastian asks, quirking a brow in my direction.

“Keep your eyes to yourself,” I warn him.

“Just saying how it is, man,” Sebastain slaps his knees, “You definitely married up.”

This fucker.

“If you must know, she’s at the hotel. She wanted to go back to work.”

“To get away from you,” Sebastian laughs, “How’s the new shoes?”

I shake my head, I should never have told him about the damn ketchup in the shoes. Killian and Dean look at me curiously and before I can tell them not to bother asking, Sebastian goes ahead and tells them.

“She put ketchup in the boss’s Prada’s.” He laughs boisterously, “He then put them on!”

Killian laughs while his brother does the sensible thing and tries to contain it. He fails but at least he tried.

“She put salt in his coffee the day before that,” Sebastian tells them like it’s school gossip on the playground.

“Looking more like Bast is gonna win this bet,” Dean chuckles.

I shake my head and don’t say a word since I can’t tell him he’s wrong.

“So, what did she do to you today?” Killian asks, “Since fucking with you seems to be a theme.”

“I’m almost scared to find out,” I get up from behind the desk, “I haven’t checked out our bedroom yet but everything else seems to be clear. Maybe she skipped a day.”

She did not, in fact, skip a day.

I pull the shirt out and then the next and the next finding every single one is missing all of their buttons.

It’s so absurd I can’t help but laugh.

I’m still in a towel, fresh out the shower, my hands on my hips as I stare at her handiwork when she breezes into the bedroom, a grin on her face and a light in her eyes that wasn’t there this morning. It almost puts me on edge wondering who put that smile there.

“Where have you been?” I growl.

She stops abruptly, her eyes widening, “Excuse me?” She snaps back, “Just who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

Shit.

“You’ve been gone all day,” I try again.

Her eyes glance to the pile of shirts on the bed before they bounce back to me, “And?”

Yeah, I had nothing.

“Besides, you know where I’ve been since you had your guard dog wait for me outside all day.”

That’s true. He’d checked in a few times, just letting me know Olivia was still at the hotel.

“You’re smiling,” I point out.

Her brows knot in confusion, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Fuck if I know. I don’t say that to her though.

“Your handiwork?” I point to the shirts.

She flutters her lashes, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Perhaps you shouldn’t be so careless with your clothes.”

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” I step toward her and revel in the way her eyes dip down my body, snagging on the muscles of my abdomen, still wet from the shower.

She swallows and then looks back up, straightening her spine and tipping up her chin, “Only for you.” She replies sassily, moving past me toward the bathroom.

“Did you have a good day?” I call after her.

She pauses in the bathroom door, looking back at me, “I did, actually. Thank you.”

“What did you do?”

She grins, showing teeth, her whole face lighting up, “I saved your winter ball.”

The door closes with a quiet click, leaving me confused. The coordinators were supposed to be handling the ball.

Leaving the shirts on the bed, I head back into the closet and grab a turtleneck sweater, pairing it with my slacks and a dinner jacket. Not my ideal wear for a council meeting but I have little choice.

When Olivia returns from the shower, she does so in just a towel, her face bare of any makeup, hair pulled into a messy bun atop her head. My movements stop as I stare at her, water droplets still clinging to her skin.

“Oh,” She stops, “You’re still here.”

“This is our bedroom,” I point out.

She pouts, “Dinner date?” She eyes my attire.

“A meeting.”

“Okay well, don’t wait up.” She disappears into the closet, “I’m going out with Willow.”

She returns with a slinky black dress and a pair of strappy silver heels, dumping them on the bed, on top of my shirts.

“Where’s the rest of that dress?” I growl, scowling at the offensive material.

“Don’t worry,” she fingers the fabric, “I can fight. Now get out, I have to get ready.”

Glancing at my watch, I grumble knowing I don’t have time to fight her on this.

“Have Dennis drive you,” I order.

“That’ll be a no.” She says, “but have the night you deserve, Malakai.”

I open my mouth to argue but my cell begins to buzz in my pocket. I pull it out seeing Sebastian calling.

“What?” I snap into the phone.

“Where the fuck are you?” He hisses back, “They’re here already.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.” I hang up and look back to my wife who just happens to be slipping on a pair of black panties underneath her towel. She quirks a brow, challenging me to keep watching and find out what’ll happen.

And as much as I’d love to stick around, I can’t.

Fuck.

“What’s the reason for this?” Hank demands the moment I walk into the room.

Ignoring him, I head down the length of the room, pulling out my chair before I grab the whiskey and pour a drink. My grandfather sits stiffly in the chair next to mine, having been filled in on what happened – or at least most of it, he’s just as pissed as I am.

He’s only known Olivia for a short time yet he’s already protective of her, and I’ll always be grateful for that.

I move my eyes over every face in the room, slowly taking a draw from my drink, letting the burn of the whiskey flow down my throat.

“I thought I made it clear,” I say to the room, “That my wife is off limits.”

Someone fidgets. Another clears their throat.

“What are you talking about, Farrow?” Hank scoffs, throwing up a hand, “You called an emergency meeting for that little wife of yours?”

Stefan smirks at his side. I’d really like to take a knife to that damn cocky smile and cut it right off his face.

Accidents happen all the time, if only I could figure out a way of taking out half this room without raising suspicion.

I don’t want to outright say what has been dug up on my wife, but I know one of these vultures went behind my back.

“I have it on good authority someone in this room dug into her past,” I tell them, omitting the details as I scan their faces. The trouble is, every single man in this room is a trained liar, their poker faces strong so I can’t expect to find the guilty party based on their expressions. “I called this meeting as a warning.”

“A warning?” Iwan pipes in, “And what warning is that, exactly?”

“That when I find out who disobeyed my direct orders, they will be dealt with.”

“Are you threatening the council?” Iwan snaps incredulously, standing as he raises his voice, “We are your backbone, boy, and we don’t take kindly to threats.”

I simply stare at him with boredom, “No threats. Only promises. To disobey my command is as good as treason in my eyes and the only rightful punishment is death.”

Silence falls as Iwan goes red in the face, “Savor that seat while you’re in it,” He lowers his tone, “It won’t be long before someone throws you off it.”

“Is that a threat? With witnesses too.” I tut with a smirk, “How sloppy of you, Iwan.”

I click my fingers and Sebastian stands, moving toward him.

“I have been on this council for seventeen years!” He swats Sebastian’s hands away but pales when Dean and Killian enter. “What are you going to do, Malakai!?”

“Escort you off the premises, of course, you’re clearly not feeling like yourself, Iwan. Get some rest.” I give him a wink for good measure, taking great pleasure in watching my men haul him out of the room. I have no patience to deal with his level of hate this evening. Especially not when my mind is picturing my wife in that slinky little dress grinding up against some fuck in a night club.

“Things are going to change,” I tell the room, “The old traditions, the old rules, you can kiss them goodbye.”

Everyone starts to argue all at once, talking over each other with raised voices, all directed at me of course. I look toward my grandfather who has remained silent throughout, but he gives me the smallest of nods, like he approves so I look back to the men around my table.

I don’t blink, don’t talk as I lift my whiskey glass and take a casual sip, draining it before I throw the glass at the wall. It shatters on impact, raining shards of glass over the men closest.

“It is not up for discussion.” I roar, “and if you don’t fucking like it, get the fuck out of my council meeting and kiss your lives goodbye.”

Silence falls quickly.

“And as I said before, when I find out which one of you fucked with my wife, you’ll be answering to me. So, I suggest you make your amends now. It’s only a matter of time.”