Chapter Thirty-four
Me: Dear future ex-husband, I loathe you.
My message is read instantly, three little dots appearing seconds later.
Future ex-husband: Dear Wife, your claws are out early today. I like it.
I chuckle to myself, tossing my phone down onto my coat that rests a few feet away.
“This dress on you,” Willow whistles, “Malakai is going to go nuts.”
As I promised, I’m letting him pay. I have his card in my purse and the dress is being fitted right now, the seamstress pinning it to fit me like a glove. The red is vibrant, with a subtle sparkle and it’s off the shoulder with a sweetheart neckline and a low back. It fits every curve of me, from my breasts to my hips before it follows the lines of my thighs and then flows out in a mermaid style.
The moment I saw it, I knew I needed it.
“You okay?” Willow asks when I don’t respond.
“Me?” I point to my chest, “Fine. Why?”
She frowns and then shrugs, “Seem distant today is all.”
Perhaps it’s because of the complete dick down I got last night. I’m still sore from it, every inch of me marked in some way, either physically with finger shaped bruises or internally with muscle aches. There’s a damn hickey on my neck that I’ve had to work some magic on to cover and I’m silently thankful to all the tutorials and videos I’ve watched on color correcting makeup. It’s hidden right now under layers of makeup. I don’t need the whole world to know how thoroughly Malakai owned me last night.
I’m not even sure how I feel about it.
My phone buzzes and I reach for it, bending to pick it up.
Future ex-husband: Show me the dress.
Me: No. You have to wait.
Future ex-husband: Color at least?
Me: Red. You’re wearing black entirely.
I drop my phone again, lifting my eyes to the mirror. I’m exhausted but after this I needed to go to the hotel to finalize a few details and pay the remaining amounts outstanding for the services I’ve hired for the event.
But I’m also avoiding going back home.
Malakai was up before I was this morning, he didn’t even join me for breakfast but when I checked my account, like he promised, my money was back where it belonged. I didn’t go searching for him after I dressed and had Dennis bring me here, but I also felt weird and vulnerable. It’s why I texted him.
I feel like a teenager again, having a crush on some boy.
A part of me thought he wouldn’t text back and then the delight when I saw that he had, startled me. I don’t want to be catching feelings for my husband.
“There,” The seamstress smiles, clasping her hands together, “This is perfect.”
I glance at the mirror and can only agree.
There are only a few days left to go before the event. I’ve closed off the main ballroom for the decorators to come in and transform the space. Everything is finally organized, paid for and confirmed. My heels clip through the hotel confidently, the last of the invoices ready to be filed and I’m ready to get back to the estate to rest. I haven’t stopped aching all day and I need a damn nap.
When I’ve finished doing everything I need to, I grab my purse and head through the lobby, stopping short when I see Malakai waiting by his Maserati and not Dennis.
“What are you doing here?” I brace for the cold, my brows tugged low, “Where’s Dennis?”
Malakai checks his watch and then grins at me, “Get in, we have a reservation to catch.”
“Now!?” I gasp.
“Now, kitten,” he opens the passenger door for me and offers me his hand which I take, careful not to slip on any ice as I climb into the car. Warmth envelopes me and I sink into the plush seat, sighing. I can’t even be mad that he’s here, not when this chair feels like heaven.
I’m so freaking tired.
Malakai climbs into the seat beside me, flicking his eyes to the mirror before he pulls into traffic. It’s late, not quite dark yet but it won’t be long.
“What’s wrong?” Malakai asks after a few minutes of silence.
“Other than you completely bulldozing my plans to sleep, nothing. I’m just tired.”
I look over to him to see his brows lowered in concern, his mouth a grim line.
“Don’t start that,” I grumble, “We don’t care about each other, remember?”
He scoffs, the sound is so sudden and unlike him I’m caught off guard by it.
He doesn’t say anything though and I settle into the seat, maybe I can get a few minutes sleep while he drives us to wherever we’re going. I close my eyes and rest my head back, using my hands to pillow my face.
I jolt awake what feels like only minutes later when Malakai is sliding his arms under me.
“What are you doing?” I clear my throat, trying to get my bearings. He attempts to lift me, but I wiggle, and fidget and he growls in annoyance.
“Do you always have to fight!?” He snaps.
“Stop trying to carry me everywhere! Everyone will see!”
“We’re at home,” He deadpans, not amused.
“Wait, what?” I blink rapidly, “Why?”
“You’re tired.”
“I thought we had a reservation.”
“Another day,” He steps back to let me climb out of the car and places his hand on my lower back as we walk into the quiet house. It appears no one is here, not even the staff.
“Where is everyone?”
“I gave them all the night off,” he grumbles.
“You’re mad,” I accuse.
“No.”
I roll my eyes and slip away from his hand, tucking my arms around me. “I’m just going to go to bed.” I tell him.
“Did you eat?” He stops me, cocking his head when I turn back to him.
“Well, I –”
“It’s a yes or no, answer,” He quirks his brow, “Did you eat.”
“This morning,” I admit.
“Get changed and come back down, you can sleep after you’ve been fed.”
He doesn’t wait for my reply when he strolls off, disappearing into the kitchen. Confusion has my head swimming, but I continue up the stairs and quickly change into a set of fleece pajamas. Bare footed, my mouth stretching in a yawn, I head back to the kitchen, climbing tiredly onto the stool.
Malakai is at the counter, chopping vegetables.
“Didn’t figure you’d know how to cook.”
He rolls his shoulders as a response but keeps his back to me. Whatever he is preparing smells good, spicy but warming, and I’m hypnotized by the way he moves around the kitchen. I definitely assumed he had no idea how to cook, especially since Louis has cooked every night since I’ve been here and well, I guess I just never expected he taught himself how. I figured everything has always been done for him.
I have my head resting in my hand when he slides a plate in front of me, It’s a curry with fluffy rice on the side.
“Huh,” I chuckle, inhaling the spicy aroma of it. He doesn’t sit next to me, instead he heads for the pantry to grab the loaf of bread.
“You have bread with your curry?” I ask.
He dips his chin with a nod and slices a few pieces before he grabs the butter and joins me.
I take the first bite and my brows shoot up, “Wow, it’s good.”
“You sound surprised,” He huffs, grabbing some bread before he starts to tear off the crusts and then my mouth drops open when he places it next to my plate.
“Why did you do that?” I blink rapidly.
He glances to the bread and then me, and then back at his plate, “You don’t eat the crust.”
“How do you know that?”
It’s a thing I’ve done since I was a kid, my friends and family used to make fun of me for it, but I never did like the crust.
“I noticed,” He shrugs, taking a big bite of his food before he reaches for the bread again, butters a slice and starts mopping up some of the sauce at the edge of the plate. But I’m still in shock. No one has taken the crust off for me before.
I’m stunned silent, following his lead by buttering the bread and mopping up the sauce and carefully take a bite. I have nothing to say, so I eat in silence, Malakai doing the same.
When we’re finished, he clears the plates and grabs two bottles of water from the fridge.
“Let’s go.” He waits for me.
“Go where?”
“To bed.” He frowns.
“I am so confused right now,” I follow him up the stairs and head for the bed once inside while he goes to the closet, dropping the water onto the bench outside. He returns in a pair of flannel pajama pants, topless and the dim light from the lamps kisses each peak of his muscles, shadowing the hollows.
I could stare at him all day, run my fingers over those muscles and trace each severe line of them. I shake my head, the fuck is wrong with me?
“Drink your water,” He passes me a bottle and then climbs in next to me.
“Are you tired too?” I ask, downing half the bottle before I put it on the bedside table.
“No.” He pulls the sheets over us.
“Why are you in bed then?”
“Because I want to hold you,” While his voice is stern and strong, his eyes are not. There’s a hint of vulnerability there, an edge of something uncertain flicking in his expression. “Is that a problem?”
Seeing him like this, that steely hardness to him pushed down to show this softer side, I don’t have the heart to say no. So, I shuffle closer to him and when he lifts his arms, I tuck myself against his side, hand falling to his abdomen. For a few minutes we lay there silently, as if getting used to the feel of it, the feel of each other.
I won’t lie and pretend it doesn’t feel nice. He holds me tightly, his fingers absently tracing up and down my spine while his chest moves evenly beneath my cheek. His heartbeat is strong under my ear, the thump of it somewhat soothing to my exhausted mind.
My own fingers begin to move, following those lines I was tempted by earlier, my nails lightly scraping against his tan skin.
His muscles jump under my touch, but I don’t stop, even when my eyes grow heavy and start to sting. I’m ready to give into it, let the exhaustion I’ve fought all day finally take its hold.
I’m at the edge of sleep, the fog seeping in quickly and thickly when I hear his voice.
“You may not care about me, kitten,” His chest rumbles, “But I’m certainly finding I care an awful lot about you, certainly more than I ever expected I would.”