Playing with Fire: A Standalone Dark Romance

Chapter Fifty-three

He cleans up my face, wiping away the tears and the saliva before he helps me to stand. I’m still throbbing, still wet, the ache so potent between my legs I could cry. He helps me into the shorts, pushes my bra back into place and pulls my tee over my head, dressing me.

I’m in some dazed, confused state, unsure I heard him correct or catching up to the fact that he is, in fact, denying me an orgasm when he knows how tightly strung I am.

My body physically reacts to every touch, every brush of his fingers, but even when he smooths hands down my hair, tucking an errant strand behind my ear and then strolls out of the bedroom with the swagger of a man who had just been fully satisfied, I still stand there, confused.

It’s only when the captain’s voice comes over the speakers, announcing our imminent descent that I snap out of the stupor. My knees feel like damn jelly as I walk out of the cabin, straight to where Malakai rests in a chair, a fresh glass of whiskey in his hand. His eyes flick to me and his brow quirks in challenge.

“Are you serious right now?” I feel the rasp in my voice as it scratches against my throat.

“Deadly. Sit down.”

I glower at him and choose to sit in the seat over from him, crossing my arms.

“Here.” He commands.

“I am not a dog.” I snap at him.

“I still have,” he checks his watch, “Fifteen hours left.”

“You’re taking this time watching very seriously,” I note.

“I get you, without restraint, I’m using every second of it.”

I roll my eyes. I never should have made that fucking bet, but my damn pride won’t let me call this quits. Not even sure he’d allow a bow out anyway.

Grumbling and pissed at my denied pleasure, I get up, purposely knocking into him so whiskey splashes over the rim of his glass, getting little amber droplets onto his white shirt and throw myself into the seat next to him. But he just chuckles, placing his whiskey down as he leans over me.

He straps me in with the belt, tightening it before his lips whisper over my jaw, to my ear, “There’s my little brat.”

“Fuck you,” I breathe.

“Soon, baby,” He vows. “Soon.”

How soon is soon?

Now? I wonder as we sit in this expensive black Mercedes cruising through a palm lined street, huge villas on one side, the ocean, a glimmering beautiful sight on the other.

I would give up the view, the awe in which I’d gasped at it when I first saw it if I could climb into his lap right now to end this throb between my legs.

“We’re here,” Malakai’s voice is a deep timbre, a purr calling to some deep primal part of me he had stirred to life back on that damn plane. I can only think about sex.

Prick.

I turn my attention to the front, watching as we pull through a set of open gates and onto a small round courtyard, big enough to fit two cars at a push, that sits in front of a modern, white villa with a black tiled roof and large, floor to ceiling windows to let in as much natural light as possible. Palms sway in a gentle breeze that flows in from the ocean across the way, white sand beckoning, the surf gently lapping on the shore barely a hundred feet from where the car stops.

Forgetting the ache, I move my hand to the handle but find it locked. I roll my eyes, waiting for the driver to get out to come and open it for me.

“Such impatience,” Malakai tuts but there’s a lilt of amusement.

I slide my eyes to him, noting how his shoulders aren’t as tense, how the lines in his face, deepened because of the constant scowl are smoothed out. He appears younger.

He didn’t change on the plane and still wears the same suit he traveled in, but if the heat bothers him, he doesn’t show it. I felt it the moment we got off the plane, it hit me right in the face and after the last several months of icy cold, it was a shock to the system, and I’ve been sweating ever since.

The door opens and, despite the heat, I eagerly get out, feet on instinct heading to the gate we just pulled through.

A hand gently circles my wrist, “Later,” Malakai softens, “I’ll take you down to the beach later. I’d like to show you the house.”

I nod, turning with him as I take in the building before me. Well looked after with manicured lawns and pruned hedges and trees. It’s much smaller than the estate back home, much more modern too. He opens the front door, gesturing for me to enter before him and I’m struck stupid by how different it is to Silver Lake Estate.

“Is this place yours?”

“Yes.” The door clicks closed behind him.

The entire downstairs is open space, to the left is a den, a huge sectional sofa sits facing windows that look out onto the ocean, a large TV on the wall with abstract art in blues and greys and soft yellows framing it. Greenery has been scattered throughout, giving color to the otherwise white décor. But while everything is light and white, it’s not sterile. Little blooms of color break it all up, like the plants and the art, bright orange cushions set up like a little reading nook in front of some shelves in the corner. A large kitchen is directly opposite the living room, white cabinets and grey countertops, the appliances matching with an oak dining table set up in front of the windows. Beyond that, there’s another smaller couch and coffee table, a bar stocked completely and a set of double doors that lead out onto a terrace. An infinity pool glimmers as the sunlight bounces off the top of the water and the garden beyond is set in tiers. I can’t see it all from here, but I can see a sun deck, a jacuzzi and a hammock that swings between two palms.

“This way,” Malakai guides me toward those doors, keeping quiet since it’s fairly obvious what is what without pointing it out. We stop at a door I hadn’t noticed, and he opens it to reveal a large bathroom, including a walk-in shower and clawfoot tub but we don’t linger, and we don’t go outside. He guides me to the wide staircase, the railings made of glass and silently we walk up.

There are two bedrooms, the master suite that looks out onto the sea with an ensuite and a smaller one across the way which only has a bed and desk in it, the space clearly used the least.

“This is modest for you,” I point out, unable to stop comparing it to the estate.

He quirks his mouth into a smile as he hauls our case onto the bed, unzipping it.

“If I had a choice,” He starts to unpack everything inside, folding it neatly into piles onto the sheets. I don’t comment on the amount of clothes he’s packed for me even though he’s brought enough for a week. “I would not have chosen Silver Lake as a home base. But it has been in my family for generations, and I have a strange fondness for the place.”

“It’s your family home,” I cross to him to help with unpacking, “It’s not strange to be fond of it. It’s like the hotel, I used to hate going as a child. All the gold and red, I just didn’t like it but now as an adult, I walk through the doors, and it feels a little bit like home there. Even if I loathe the color scheme.”

“Why not change it?” He asks. “It is your hotel now.”

“I’ve thought about it,” I admit, “But it feels like erasing parts of my history. My family’s history.”

Something uneasy stirs in my gut as I remember the man before me had a part in erasing some of that history. My father died because of his actions.

I roll my shoulders, trying to shift the tension that’s suddenly formed.

And as if he can sense where my thoughts have gone, he steps closer, “I had a hand in your fathers’ death.”

My nostrils flare as tears sting my eyes.

“Apologies don’t change what’s happened.” I say, “my father died because of whatever game you were playing at the time, I know you didn’t pull the trigger but every event after that was orchestrated by you.”

Sorrow twists his face, there one minute, gone the next, “I don’t make decisions lightly.” His voice holds no emotion, it’s flat and steady, “The choices I make are to protect my organization and everyone within it. It is to ensure my legacy.”

I scoff, “The choices you make kill people.”

“Let’s not pretend your father was innocent here,” Malakai glares at me, “He hired one of my best killers to take me out.”

My sister’s new boyfriend he means.

“So, you got there first.”

“His life or mine, I chose mine.” He says it so simply, so easily.

“Have you never thought about anyone but yourself?” I snap, “About the lives your choices effect?”

“No.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised by the answer, I really shouldn’t have, but that’s sadness weighing down my chest. I am in love with a monster. Could he ever love me back?

His selfish thinking suggests not, but what about the man I’ve seen beneath this cold exterior I’m seeing right now. That man isn’t selfish.

That man saved me when I was attacked. Supported me when I chose to defend myself. Sat with me in a hospital and never left.

“I think that’s a lie.” I pick up my pile of clothes and head to the drawers, “I think you pretend not to care but you do. I just don’t understand why you hide it.”

“I don’t hide from you.” I hear his whisper though I’m not sure he intended for me to.

I don’t answer him and despite all the evil things he has done, a little bit of light chases away that heavy sorrow in my chest. If I can love a man who did all those atrocious things, see past it, then I know there’s more to him than he leads people to believe.

“I want to swim,” I declare loudly, changing the subject completely.

I turn to find him already dangling my bright yellow bikini from his fingers. There’s tension back in his shoulders, a small frown creasing his brow. I walk toward him, swallow my apprehension, trusting my instinct as I reach up and smooth out that little line between his brows. He relaxes at my touch, eyes closing for a moment before his blue eyes open and pulse when he looks at me.

“Are you going to ask my permission, kitten?” he purrs, holding the control.

Fuel, meet fire.

“May I go swimming?” I flutter my lashes, looking up at him as I widen my eyes innocently.

“Fuck me,” He groans, dropping the bikini into my waiting hands.

I don’t bother going for privacy to change, choosing to strip right there and then. I’m naked in a matter of seconds, reaching for the bikini.

“Fuck me.” He groans for a second time and storms from the room.