Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
MALIK
T HREE DAYS LATER
"You look like shit," Jake comments as I enter the security office at Club Crimson. He's not wrong. Three days of minimal sleep will do that to a man.
"Thanks for the update," I reply, dropping into my chair. "Any news on our PI friend?"
Jake slides a folder across the desk. "Still at the Mountain Lodge Motel. Makes daily calls to a number in Toronto. We've been monitoring his movements."
"Good." I flip through the surveillance photos, noting the PI's predictable routine. "Any contact with Melody?"
"None that we've observed." Jake studies me with the scrutiny that makes him an excellent head of security. "Though I hear she's settling in at the high school. Sage mentioned she's staying at your guest cabin."
I grunt noncommittally, not wanting to discuss my personal life. Jake, being Jake, ignores the hint.
"So you're just going to let her push you away because she's scared?"
My head snaps up. "What did Sage tell you?"
"Enough." He leans back in his chair. "Look, I get it. She's young, starting a new job, worried about her reputation. But running from the first sign of trouble isn't how relationships survive."
"She called me her sugar daddy, Jake." The words still burn. "Made it clear she thinks this is about me taking advantage of her."
Jake winces. "Ouch. But people say stupid shit when they're scared. You know that better than most."
I stand, pacing the small office. "It's more than that. She denied we were together. Told her colleagues I was just a misunderstanding. Like what's between us is something to be ashamed of."
"And that hurt your pride."
"It's not about pride." But even as I say it, I know he's partly right. "It's about respect. Either what we have means something, or it doesn't."
Jake watches me pace. "So your solution is to walk away? The Malik Harris I know doesn't give up that easily."
"I'm giving her what she asked for. Space." I stop at the window, looking out at the mountain view. "Ball's in her court now."
"And if she doesn't reach out?"
The question is uncomfortably close to the fear I've been trying to ignore. What if she decides the complications aren't worth it? What if she's relieved I'm keeping my distance?
"Then that's my answer," I say finally. "I won't force something she doesn't want."
Jake sighs, changing tactics. "What about the PI? She's still potentially facing accusations of theft."
"We handle that regardless." On this point, I'm firm. "Whatever happens between us, I won't leave her to deal with that alone."
"Good." Jake stands, collecting the folder. "Then maybe start by telling her that. Security meeting in ten minutes."
After he leaves, I sink back into my chair, exhaustion weighing me down. Three nights of lying awake, replaying her words, remembering the look on her face when she called me her "sugar daddy boyfriend." The hurt was quickly masked by anger, but it's the hurt that haunts me.
Because somewhere beneath the anger, I wonder if she's right. Am I too old for her? Is the power imbalance too great? Have I been fooling myself, thinking this could work?
My phone has been silent since that night. No texts from Melody, though I know from Sage she's doing well at school. Pride keeps me from texting first. If she wants space, she'll get it. If she wants more, she knows where to find me.
The security meeting passes in a blur of protocols and schedules. Afterward, Noah Kane catches me in the hallway.
"Harris, got a minute?"
I follow him to his office, noting the tension in his shoulders. Noah isn't one for small talk, so I wait while he closes the door and takes a seat behind his desk.
"We've got a situation," he says finally. "The PI who's been asking about Melody Washington? He's not just investigating the ring."
My body goes rigid. "Explain."
"One of our sources in Toronto says Jason Mills is planning a visit to Crimson Hollow. Supposedly to recover his grandmother's ring, but the timing seems suspicious."
"When?" The single word comes out like a growl.
"This weekend, according to our source." Noah slides a photo across the desk. "That's him. Law firm profile picture."
I study the image. Jason Mills looks exactly like what he is, wealthy, entitled, polished to a high shine. The kind of man who thinks he owns whatever he touches.
"Does Melody know?"
"Not yet." Noah leans forward. "Look, I know something's going on between you two. The whole town knows after your scene at The Velvet Antler. But whatever your personal situation, we need to handle this professionally."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I want you nowhere near this guy when he shows up." Noah's expression is serious. "Jake will handle the security side. You're too personally involved."
Anger flares hot and immediate. "Like hell. If he's coming after Melody?—"
"Then we protect her," Noah cuts in. "But we do it right. No testosterone-fueled confrontations that could escalate the situation."
I want to argue, but he's right. My protective instincts toward Melody have only intensified since our fight, not diminished. If I come face to face with the man who hurt her, who's now threatening her reputation and career, I'm not sure I could maintain professional distance.
"Fine," I concede. "But I want to be kept in the loop. And Melody needs to know he's coming."
"Agreed." Noah nods. "You want to tell her, or should Jake?"
Three days of silence, and now I have the perfect excuse to contact her. But is that fair? Using a threat to breach the distance she requested?
"I'll tell her," I decide. "Tonight."
"Good." Noah stands, indicating our meeting is over. "And Harris? Whatever's going on between you two, figure it out. The tension's affecting your work."
I leave without responding, unwilling to acknowledge the truth in his words. My concentration has been shot since our fight, my temper shorter than usual. The entire security team has been walking on eggshells around me.
By evening, I've mentally composed and deleted a dozen text messages. None feel right. Too casual, too formal, too desperate, too cold. Finally, I decide a phone call or text is cowardly. This news needs to be delivered in person.
The drive to the guest cabin takes twenty minutes, each passing mile ratcheting up my anxiety. What if she refuses to see me? What if she's not alone? What if seeing her again makes it impossible to maintain the distance she wants?
Her car is parked outside when I arrive, lights glowing warmly through the cabin windows. I sit in my Jeep for several minutes, gathering my resolve, before finally approaching the door.
Three sharp knocks. Silence. Then footsteps.
The door opens, and there she is. An afro puff tied messily on top of her head, wearing leggings and an oversized sweater, glasses perched on her nose. She looks younger, more vulnerable, and so beautiful it physically hurts.
"Malik." My name on her lips still affects me. "What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk," I say, keeping my voice neutral. "May I come in?"
She hesitates, then steps back. "Of course."
The cabin feels different with her things scattered around. Books on the coffee table, papers spread across the dining table, a half-empty wine glass beside her laptop. She's made the space her own.
"How are you?" I ask, suddenly unsure how to begin.
"Fine," she says, crossing her arms defensively. "School is going well. The students are great."
"Good." I nod, searching for words. "Look, I'm not here to pressure you. I respect your need for space. But there's something you need to know."
Her expression shifts from wary to concerned. "What is it? Is Sage okay?"
"Sage is fine." I move to the kitchen counter, maintaining distance. "It's about Jason Mills. We have information he's planning to visit Crimson Hollow this weekend."
All color drains from her face. "Jason? Here? How do you know?"
"Noah has sources in Toronto. The intelligence is reliable." I resist the urge to go to her, to offer physical comfort. "The official reason is to recover the ring, but given the timing..."
"He's coming to intimidate me," she finishes, sinking onto the couch. "Make me look bad in front of my new colleagues. Typical Jason."
"We won't let that happen," I say firmly. "Jake is implementing additional security measures. I wanted you to be prepared."
She looks up, eyes searching mine. "Thank you for telling me in person."
"Of course." I shift uncomfortably. "Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?"
A sad smile touches her lips. "You're still looking out for me, even after I was horrible to you."
"That doesn't change just because we had a fight, Melody." The words come out more intense than intended. "What's between us is complicated, but my concern for your safety isn't."
"I'm sorry," she says suddenly. "For what I said that night. I was scared and embarrassed, and I took it out on you. The sugar daddy comment was cruel and unfair."
The apology loosens something tight in my chest. "And I'm sorry for walking away. For not giving you a chance to explain."
We look at each other across the room, unspoken feelings piling up in the silence. I want to cross that space, take her in my arms, forget the hurt and confusion of the past three days. But things between us are still too fragile.
"So what happens now?" she asks, breaking the silence. "With Jason, I mean."
"We wait," I reply. "Monitor his movements when he arrives. Keep you safe. Let Jake handle any direct confrontation if necessary."
"And what about us?" The question is quiet but direct, so typically Melody.
I take a deep breath. "That's up to you. I understand your concerns about your job and reputation. I know the age gap makes things complicated. But I meant what I said before. I won't pretend what's between us isn't real."
She looks down at her hands. "I never wanted to pretend it wasn't real. I just panicked. Everything was happening so fast, and suddenly there were rumors, and that PI showed up, and I just... I didn't know how to handle it all."
"I get that." I take a careful step toward her. "We did move fast. Maybe too fast. But that doesn't mean what we felt wasn't genuine."
"Felt?" She looks up sharply. "Past tense?"
"Feel," I correct. "Present tense. Continuous."
A small smile kisses her lips. "I miss you," she admits. "These past three days have been miserable. I kept picking up my phone to text you, but I didn't know what to say."
"I miss you too." The admission comes easily. "More than I expected."
She rises from the couch, taking a tentative step toward me. "So where does that leave us?"
"Cautious," I suggest. "Taking things slower this time. Figuring out how to navigate the complications together instead of letting them drive us apart."
"I'd like that." Another step closer. "Though I'm not sure I know how to do slow with you."
The hint of desire in her voice sends heat through me. "We'll learn together."
She's close enough now that I can smell her perfume, see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. My hand rises of its own accord, fingertips brushing her cheek.
"May I?" I ask, voice rough.
She nods, and I lower my mouth to hers. The kiss is gentle, questioning, worlds away from the passionate encounters that marked our earlier relationship. Her lips are soft beneath mine, yielding but not demanding.
When we part, her eyes remain closed for a moment, as if savoring the connection. "Stay tonight?" she whispers. "Just to sleep. I haven't been sleeping well without you."
The admission of vulnerability touches something deep inside me. "Are you sure?"
She nods. "I'm not ready to figure everything out tonight. But I'm tired of being alone and scared."
"Then I'll stay." I brush a strand of hair from her face. "For as long as you need me."
Later, as she sleeps curled against my chest, I stare at the ceiling and think about Jason Mills. About the threat he represents not just to Melody's safety but to her peace of mind, her fresh start. About what I would do if he tried to hurt her again.
I tighten my arm around her sleeping form, feeling protective and possessive in equal measure. I won't let anyone threaten what we're building. Not her ex, not small town gossip, not even our own fears.