Malik’s Law

Chapter 1

Living in a world as cruel as this could only shape someone into one of two things.

A hard, insidious monster that cares not for inferior, worldly things like affection.

Or a meek, superstitious, indigent charity case.

There is no halfway when the underworld meets the light of justice.

You’re either hardened by the things you’ve done, or you’ve been too scared to do what was needed.

I’ve spent years pursuing this dying dream, but every single time I think I might have some answers, I return to a blank page.

Back to square one. I’m accustomed to people taking a look at me on the streets and clutching their bags to their chests.

I might have a reputation that precedes me, but I’ll never get used to that feeling.

The rush of knowing you hold a certain level of power and dominance over someone else is exhilarating.

Just like the people I’m surrounded by at this uninspiring charity, the swanky new and old money of London.

From highly sought-after surgeons to the most revered judges in the country.

After many years attending these events as a guest, I’ve come to realise these people don’t do anything in halves.

The entire space is decked out in high-end furniture, classy crystal glassware, and long ceiling-to-floor drapes that cover stupidly large windows.

It’s twisted how many times I’ve been to one of these things, and yet, the champagne still goes down easy, almost like my blood is not contaminated with dirt.

I guess some part of me enjoys it.

It’s not the social part I enjoy, though.

It’s the fact that these charities always begin as a masked party, allowing me to hide my true self.

It’s a tradition the Casella family put in place so they could travel to and from the events undetected by the paparazzi constantly stalking their every move.

As one of the main donors, Ezra Casella practically has the entire city in his pocket.

Including me.

I don’t mind, though. I came from nothing, living in the damn streets like a gutter rat, chasing the smallest crumb I could find.

Until one day, I crossed paths with the Casellas.

I was young, but I knew what I wanted, and if I wanted to find her, I needed the money, the status, the power—all of it.

I didn’t care to be revered; it’s not something I aspired to.

It’s too…simplistic for my tastes.

I want something deeper, something more tangible and formidable than reverence.

I lift the glass in my hand again and taste the sweetness on my tongue as I watch one of the guests leave the room, her black dress wrapping around her sensual curves as she takes the stairs, the diamond-encrusted mask covering from her nose to her brows.

And because I get to be someone else for one night, I follow her up the grand staircase, leaving my glass of champagne behind.

She’s been eyeing me all night, and although I usually don’t take notice of women when I’m on a job, she’s piqued my interest. It’s not every day you see a woman with ink amongst some of the wealthiest people in the country.

They tend to frown at people like me, with tattoos covering almost every square inch of skin.

She slips into a room on the right of the hallway, and I follow, closing the door behind me. Room is definitely not the correct word. It’s a large walk-in closet, housing linen.

“You don’t belong here, do you?” she asks, turning to face me, her hazel eyes gleaming behind her mask as she gives me a smile so tantalising, I’m forced to swallow at the blood rushing to my cock.

“Define belong. I was invited, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

I straighten my suit, then step closer to her. She catches my wrist as I raise it, my aim to remove the mask from her face, but she obviously doesn’t want that.

“Why’d you lure me into this private, enclosed space?” I ask, stepping in closer so our bodies touch. She cranes her neck to look up at me. “I could be a criminal for all you know.”

“Are you a criminal?” Her hands glide up my chest, brushing the back of her fingers on my neck, making my hands clench with the need to be on her.

“Do you know who I am?” I ask, but I already know the answer. She wouldn’t be putting her hands on me if she knew who I was, but that’s the beauty of masks.

“Are names really necessary?” she says in a breathy voice.

A muffled thud is the only sound amongst our breaths as my jacket hits the floor, and her fingers work slowly to unbutton my dress shirt.

“And you’re okay with me not calling you in the morning?”

“I couldn’t care less. In fact, don’t look at me when you fuck me,” she says, continuing on her quest to remove my shirt.

I chuckle, lowering my lips to hers, when her fingers are on my mouth, stopping me. “I don’t do kissing either,” she says, her breath brushing over my face, and it makes me want to tear her hand away to have my lips on her ruby red ones.

I’ve known it all my life. I don’t like being told no, and this woman has me equally stunned and hard as a fucking rock.

“Any other demands?” I ask, carefully unzipping her dress, searching for the mark I’ve been looking for on every other woman since I was fourteen. Her eyes remain glued to mine, her dark hair falling elegantly over her shoulders.

“Yes.” She removes my shirt, then unbuckles my belt, unzips my trousers, and stuffs her hand inside to stroke me.

Her eyes don’t leave mine, my entire face still covered with my black elk mask.

She lets go of my cock, only to move her hands over my abs, up my chest, and down over every muscle on my arms. Her hand curls on my wrist as her eyes gleam, and she raises my hand to her neck. “Choke me until I can’t breathe.”

Did I just win the jackpot, or am I finally seeing my good karma come back to me tenfold? Nah, it can’t be that. I don’t even think I have any goodness in the karma bank.

I try to get another look at her hip, but she stops me. “Are we doing this, or not?”

I’m about to tear her dress off when the door behind me rattles with pounding knocks.

“We need to go.” Emmett’s voice is the last I want to hear right now when my mind is filled with thoughts of what it’d feel like to be inside her. “I’m serious. They’re here looking for you.” He continues pounding on the door as if I’m not standing right behind it.

“Maybe another time,” I whisper to the woman, who is now zipping her dress up as I reach for my jacket.

As soon as I open the door, I’m faced with Emmett’s dark blue eyes. He’s pissed, and for good reason. I shouldn’t have followed her, especially at this exclusive event. But my dick wants what he wants.

“How long do we have?” I ask, taking the steps two at a time towards the exit.

“Ten minutes, fifteen max.”

“What do they know?”

“Crime scene was clean. No one else saw you leave the apartment besides one man. There’s no weapon, no prints, no marks that tie you to it besides that witness.” He hands me a white envelope. “And these are the photos you’ve requested this week.”

“Any update?” A fleeting spark of hope ignites my stomach from within at the possibility of finding her, but when Emmett doesn’t respond, I know it hasn’t happened.

“We need to find a lawyer. Immediately. They’re going to come after you.”

The corner of my lips curve into a smile.

“Let them.”