Chapter 17 #2
She shifts next to me, her knees touching mine, and extends her hands, placing them on top of my thigh. “Isla, could you ever forgive me?”
I’m sure I could with time. As everyone likes to echo, time heals all wounds.
But does it?
Or do you just end up waiting for that day to come and then find yourself buried beneath six feet of dirt?
There’s a pause between us as she waits for my answer, but all I’m thinking about is what she said earlier. Someone had been to my house, looking for me, and I have no idea if it’s the same person who is sending me threatening letters and videos.
“Paxon has a lot of money, Astrid. He has every means to find you. You need to file a charge and place an AVO on him, immediately.”
Her eyes go wide. “Isla, I can’t go to the police!”
“Yes, you can and you will. I’ll go with you right now.”
I grab her by the wrist and pull her up to stand, but she tears herself out of my hold.
“No! I can’t! He’ll hurt me.” Her hands hover over her midsection, and a shiver rolls through me at the realisation.
“Are you…”
Her face falls, unshed tears now like small rivers in her eyes as she purses her lips, confirming what I already know. “I can’t take the chance until I know I’m safe from him. He already tried once.”
“Okay.” I pull her into a hug. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to help you, but first, we need to—”
My words are cut off as the door swings open, vibrating from the impact of hitting the wall behind it.
A darkness accompanies Malik’s expression as he steps forward into the space, swallowing the oxygen from inside my lungs.
The two bouncers from the entry are standing beside him with their tails between their legs, their eyes cast down to the floor in shame.
“We didn’t know, sir,” one of them says, not daring to peer at Malik.
“Leave.” His voice is hard, his gaze focused on mine.
The two men disappear as Astrid leans in from behind me. “Do you know him?”
“Unfortunately.”
Malik’s eyes narrow, displeased with my response, then he hooks his heel around the door, slamming it shut behind him.
“Who’s this?” he asks when Astrid steps beside me.
“My friend, Astrid.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
“No.” My tone is clipped as I guide her toward the door.
I’m stopped in my tracks when he steps in front of me, the infuriation rolling off his body and onto mine through the thin fabric of our clothing, barely touching.
I want to reprimand him, to tell him to move out of my way, but when his hand curls around my wrist, I don’t.
“She needs my help.”
“And I need you to be safe,” he retorts like it’s become an automatic response.
“What’s going on, Isla?” Astrid asks, glancing from me to Malik and back as we stand here in our face-off.
He smiles, showcasing his perfect teeth. “Do you want to fill her in, or should I?”
“Fill me in on what?” Astrid asks, turning to face me.
“It’s not important. We need to make sure Paxon can’t find you. What if you stayed at my apartment in Brighton? I can drive you there and make sure it’s safe.”
Malik’s chuckle is thick as he traces circles on my wrist with his thumb. “Isla won’t be going anywhere, but I’d be happy to have some friends take you.”
“She won’t be going anywhere with anyone else.”
His eyes drop to mine, and the power in them makes me wish his hand was somewhere else. When he releases me to reach into his pocket for his phone, I feel every whisper of the warm air inside this room coat my skin in the absence of his touch.
He presses the phone to his ear, already dialling someone’s number. “I know you said you wanted to enjoy your night, but I need you to do something for me.”
I turn to Astrid, and she stares back at me. “Are you involved in something?” she whispers, glancing over at Malik on the phone.
“It’s very complicated.”
“Is someone after you?” she asks again, probing the answers out of me that I do not have.
I know Malik won’t let me leave with her, and right now, after watching that video, I don’t want her to be anywhere else but close to me. “Maybe you should stay at Veridis too.”
“Funny joke,” she deadpans. “You know I can’t afford it.”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“That won’t be necessary. I have arranged your room a level below the penthouse, and you will have Emmett to help you with whatever you need,” Malik interjects.
There’s a knock at the door, and when Malik opens it, a beautiful brunette with shoulder-length hair smiles.
“Miss Vino, your room is ready for you.” Her pencil skirt hugs her curves, her heels clacking on the polished concrete as she enters the room. “Mr Faris mentioned you might require some new clothes. We can get that arranged for you and anything else you might need.”
“I’ll come with—”
“You and I have something we need to discuss,” Malik says with a warning in his voice. “She’ll be safe. I can guarantee it.”
Astrid squeezes my hand in reassurance. “We’ll talk soon?”
I nod. “Promise.”
She covers herself with her cardigan and leaves. As the door closes behind them, Malik enters my space, crowding me. “Maybe I should put a fucking tracking device in your neck.”
“I didn’t even leave the building. Stop overreacting.”
“One, you shouldn’t have left the room.” He steps forward, and I step back. “Two, you took pills that make you drowsy.” My back hits the wall, and his arms cage me in as he presses them against it on either side of my head. “Three, you left your phone behind.”
I place my hand on his hard chest. “Malik—”
“I’m not finished,” he growls. “Four, you came into my club and dared to use my men against me.”
“I didn’t use—”
“One more word, Isla,” he dares, his piercing stare fiery and intimidating. “One more fucking word and I promise I won’t hold back.”
The frustration at his overbearing nature clouds me in red, and before I can stop myself, I slap him hard. His head whips to the side as I swallow down the nerves. His dark eyes travel back to mine slowly, the muscle in his jaw ticking.
He stands tall, arms now by his side, and I can’t guess what his next move is going to be.
“Again.”
“No.”
“Harder this time, like you fucking mean it.” He smiles. Fucking smiles like a truly disturbed man, the deranged look in his eyes intensifying by the second.
I swing my other hand, and he groans at the impact, my red handprint on the side of his face.
“Harder,” he rasps, palming his cock through his jeans.
“Are you hard right now!?”
“Again, Isla,” he demands. “How much do you hate not having control over the situation right now?” He smirks, and the temper boils inside me.
“Don’t,” I breathe, fisting my hands.
“Oh yeah, get angry. Get real fucking angry, come on.” He provokes me. “You feel like a disappointment, don’t you?”
“Stop,” I warn.
“The biggest disappointment to the Knight name, representing criminals. Just the daughter of the Judge. That’s all you’ll be known for. That’s what goes through your mind, doesn’t it?”
“I said stop!” My fist cracks as it meets his jaw, the pounding in my knuckles almost unbearable as blood rushes to the area, but I can’t focus on the pain because all I can see is Malik’s grin. His teeth, smothered in his blood as it runs down his nose and chin.
“That’s it, Little Nycto,” he drawls, caging me into the wall. “I can take it.”
I fist the material of his shirt, pulling him into me. Everything else seems subdued—the music no longer audible over the thumping in my chest, the room no longer visible behind his heated stare, and the unexplainable, palpable tension, swelling by the second between our bodies.
“Kiss me.”