10. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Steph
T he security gate preemptively opens, just as I arrive at Malcolm’s house. I’m not even sure if he’s checking to see who it is first, the fool. The blue sedan that Declan spoke about, I still can’t see, but then, as far as I’m concerned, that’s the point. If they’re worth their salt, then they’ll go undetected. As I pull up to his driveway, he pokes his head out the front door, looking up at the storm clouds forming above. The wind is wild, pulling my long hair in all directions, and I’m soaked from head to toe, just from walking to his front door. “Are you crazy?” He shouts over the wind. “What are you doing, driving in this?”
He gets me in the house and grabs the small dish towel he has hanging on the oven door. “Just hold on a second. I’ll get you a bigger towel.”
I feel a bone chill go through my body, as I shudder uncontrollably. “Just what are you doing, lass? Coming out in this. Jesus, you could have been hurt.” Malcolm chides as he wraps a towel over my shoulders, and then around my waist. “Here, come by the fire. I’ll start it up for you.”
Shivering, I follow him to the fireplace, where he has dry wood piled up in a metal basket next to it. He’s very apt at getting it going straight away, and before I know it, its flames begin to warm me. “I’ll make you some tea. Sit there before you catch pneumonia.” He orders, half angry, half concerned.
He talks to me from the kitchen. “How did you even get here? I heard the highway was closed.”
“I used the back roads. That’s where the GPS took me.” I explain as my teeth chatter.
“What in God’s name prompted you to come here, anyway?” He asks as the water quickly comes to a boil.
I don’t answer, as I want to see his expression when I do. That’s the only way that I’m going to know if he’s telling the truth. When he brings me a tea, and I take a sip, feeling the warmth go to my bones, I speak. “I had to know, Malcolm.”
“Had to know what, lass?” He asks, concerned, sitting on the wing chair that matches the one that I’m sitting on. The fire is roaring happily, flames licking up the sides of the wood, causing a glow on Malcolm’s gorgeous face. It’s been days since I’ve seen him, and I’d forgotten how beautiful he is.
“Clare.” Is all I say, well, I seethe, more like it.
Recognition comes to his face as he clasps his hands together, closes his eyes, lifts his chin slightly, and exhales, voice calm. “What is it you’d like to know, lass?” The way he asks it is off. It’s like he’s dying to say that it’s none of my business, which he’s right. But all the same, I’m an idiot for driving all the way over here, in severe weather, just to snoop into something that has nothing to do with me. When a phone call would suffice. But again, I needed to see his face.
“Did you fuck her?” I ask through gritted teeth.
He draws in a deep breath, fingertips at his lips. “No. I did not. Is that all you wanted to know?” His words are snide, but his tone betrays him. It’s like he’s not mad at me. It’s like he’s mad at her.
I level with him. “Look, I don’t know why I want to know this, but I do. I hate it that I do, and I’m sure that you feel the same, and you can tell me to go to hell and I’d think that’s reasonable, but all the same, I have to know.”
He’s frustrated. “Have to know what, Stephanie? I’ve already told you that I didn’t sleep with her.”
“Do you want to get back together with her?”
He looks away, soured by the thought, evidently. “I’d rather have all my teeth pulled out, one-by-one, without anesthetic.”
“Then why did you agree to meet with her?” I ask, hating myself for uttering the words.
“It was for business, as I’ve explained before. Now, can I offer you a dry change of clothes? It can’t be comfortable in that outfit. You’re also dripping all over my floor.”
“Quit changing the subject, Malcolm.”
“I’ve already answered the question. And if you’re going to question every lass I see for work, then we’re going to have a huge problem, especially since you are not in a position to be questioning anything to do with my personal life.”
I close my eyes tight and bite my tongue. Why this lad makes me so angry for certain things is beyond me. He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He rises. I’m guessing to go get me some clothes. Even my bra is soaked through. If he’s got a bra for me, then we’re going to have a whole other conversation here, ladies and gentlemen. After I take another sip of tea, I can hear him in his room, opening and closing drawers. He returns a minute later, holding what looks like a jogging suit, in his hand. “Here. I’ll give you some privacy so you can change in front of the fireplace. Otherwise, you’ll catch a chill.”
“I’ve already caught a chill, Malcolm.” I inform him, rising, undoing my blouse, modesty gone out the window, along with my patience and care.
He walks back into the kitchen, which is next to us, acting as though he’s either shy or not desiring to see me naked. Either way, I don’t give a shit. I pull off my blouse and skirt, hang them over the back of the wing chair, and then I remove my bra and underwear, doing the same. Once I’m completely naked, I pull on the jogging pants and sweater, which are way too big, but so comfy I could die. I don’t hear him in the kitchen, but I can hear him walking around in the basement. When I’m redressed, I hear him coming up the basement stairs.
“You can hang your clothes here. I’m sure none of that would tolerate the dryer.” He comments, assembling the wooden clothes rack in front of the fireplace. “That jogging set my mama bought for me for Christmas two years ago. I can’t imagine wearing something like that.”
“Jogging suits are beneath you, huh.” I comment snarkily.
“The closest thing I wear to that is my tearaway pants. Or swim shorts.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, this is so comfy I could cry.” I remark, adjusting the ties around the hoodie.
“Keep it. I’ll never wear it.” He says, taking my tea from the table. “I’ll get you another.”
“No, that’s okay. I should go.”
His brows furrow and he all but squeaks. “Like hell you are. Look outside. Did you know that there’s a hurricane coming?”
“We’re not on an evacuation order, Malcolm. It’s fine.”
“Not yet, but South Carolina is, lass. You'll never get back home now. Frankly, I’m surprised that you were able to take the back roads.”
“I know my way. It’s not a big deal. I’ve driven through hurricanes before for work.”
“Aye? I can’t imagine how appreciative your staff are for that. Jesus Christ, even my Uncle Dougall lets staff work from home in these situations.”
“I never said that I extend that expectation to my staff. Besides, the team that I work closest with are oblivious to weather. They want to get the job done, just like me. That’s why I hired them. For their attitudes.”
His jaw muscles work. “Have you heard anything about Callum?”
“No. I figured that your team would have dug stuff up by now. Shows you how good they really are. I thought you swore by them.”
His nostrils flare. “They have better things to do than hunt down a granny killer, Steph. In case you didn’t notice, you’re the one holding evidence that could be fucking up the case. Besides, I thought you said that Moira had police investigating it.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I sneer. “He’s in hiding. And if your investigative team was worth their salt, they would have found him by now.”
“Like I said, my Uncle doesn’t approve of pulling them off all other projects to get them chasing down a granny killer. As long as we’ve got eyes on Moira, it doesn’t matter. Our lives are not in danger.”
Something occurs to me. “And why would you have a man following me, hm? If you don’t give a shit, that is.” I scoff.
“Goddamn Declan.” He growls. “He’s got a big fucking mouth.”
“So what. Maybe he thinks that I have a right to know when some goon is following me.”
“Then why are you bitching about it? If you want me to call him off, I will, lass. Just say the fucking word!” He’s pissed and the kettle is boiling again. He rises to go get me another tea. I give him credit. The man knows when to leave a room to diffuse a situation. The minute that he’s gone, I calm down slightly.
When he returns, he hands me the second tea, and he sits. He clasps his hands together, knees parted, elbows resting on his knees. “Steph, I’m not sure why you’re here, or what you want from me, so why don’t you just tell me. If you want me to call Rory off, I will. If you want me to back the fuck off and let you go out into the fucking hurricane, I will. But if you’re going to question every step I take when you don’t seem to give a fuck about me, then you can go to hell, okay? I’ve been in a fucked-up relationship before, and I’m not up for that again. I just saw the girl that fucked me up again, and it was a very unpleasant reminder of hellish things that happened in the past.”
That’s when his phone rings. He doesn’t bother to excuse himself, like a gentleman, no, he just answers it. “Rush, what’s up.”
I watch him, as his eyes are on me, and I can’t help but feel the burning desire inside me. Those eyes. They’re so gorgeous. Bluey green, bright, with long, dark lashes, and they’re so innocent, yet so mysterious. I could stare at them for hours. But I try to divert my glance, even though I refuse to leave the room, since he’s clearly proven that he doesn’t need privacy, or he would have done so himself. My thighs are damp, and without underwear or a bra, all my nerve endings are awake and alert.
Malcolm is so fucking hot and he doesn’t even know it. And that’s the part that’s the sexiest. There is nothing that turns me off more than a man that knows he’s all that. Modesty is key. And Malcolm is it. My nipples are beaded under the shirt, knowing that it belongs to him. Knowing that he at least wore this suit once, and that his body was next to the fabric, as is mine right now. I can’t get that thought out of my head. As he speaks to his brother, about things that I can’t decipher, I watch him. His eyes are on me almost the whole time, which turns me on to no end.
Whether it’s a focus thing, a manners thing, or what, I like it.
“Aye, is Rory on that? He’s looking into Clare, is he?” Malcolm asks, and then he nods. “Aye, if she’s lying about you and her, then lord knows what the fuck else the tramp is lying about. Uncle Dougall will appreciate the close watch, I think. Regardless of how much he thinks she’s shrewd, he won’t care for it if she’s hiding other important factors.” He pauses. “Aye, Cullen only looked into her finances, not her personal life. I’m surprised Dougall didn’t catch that, but then again, he’s got other things on his plate.”
Another pause. “I’ll call him off. She’s here with me.” He says, and his eyes almost sparkle as he looks at me, setting my pulse off. The way he says it isn’t like I’m an inconvenience, either, the way that he was making out like I was a moment ago. “Let him seek shelter, hm? Dougall’s grounded the jets now, anyway, until the storm passes.” He nods. “Sounds good. Stay safe.” He hangs up.
My voice is silky yet snide. “What did the bitch lie about?”
He swallows. “She fucked my brother, Rush. She said that it was just a fling, but according to him, it went on for the last few years, since we broke up. Evidently, my uncle is impressed by this.”
I lift a brow. “Impressed?”
He smirks and scoffs. “Aye. He thinks that she’s shrewd for playing both of us as she did.”
“Fool.” I sneer.
“More of a fool than you for keeping evidence from a crime scene?” He throws back at me.
My lips curl up into a snarl. “I kept it for insurance. My cousin was drunk out of his mind when he murdered my granny, and he’d never remember that detail - the one that I’ve kept for posterity. The cops here in the states are going to fuck up this case, no matter what. At least I have something to bargain with when he calls me and tries to either threaten or bribe me or Moira.”
“A lot of good you'll be serving your family when you're behind bars for tampering with evidence. If the evidence is even admissible, that is.”
“That’s just the point, Malcolm. I wasn't planning on giving it to the police. I'll use it as a bargaining chip should Callum have the audacity to call me or threaten me or do anything stupid.”
“And what if Callum decides to report you to the police, for tampering with evidence?”
“Well, then he's the fool, since he's being searched for by police, as a suspect.”
“He could report it anonymously, lass. Did you ever consider that?”
“He wouldn't take that risk, Malcolm. My cousin is a pussy. Think about it. He murdered our eighty-seven-year-old granny in her sleep.”
“He was trying to track down Moira, Steph. She was not asleep.”
I'm growing irritated. “Regardless, Malcolm. The woman weighed sixty pounds soaking wet. A child could have killed her. My point is that Callum is a coward. I'm not afraid of him.” I decide that it's time to change the subject. “It sounds like your investigative team missed the boat on a few points with Clare, hm?” I point out, trying to win this argument. I don't know what it is with men. They think that they've covered all bases. They think that they're so smart. They think that women need them constantly. I do not. In fact, just by the mention of her name and by a quick social media search on the bitch, I could tell right away that she was trouble. Some would say that that's because I'm jealous of her, and that I knew a brief background of her beforehand. But I can figure out a person, I can size them up in seconds. That's another reason why I have such a great team at work. And that's also why I’m so successful, because I can sniff out a cheat in a moment’s notice.
He lifts his elbows off his legs and rests his back arm chair. His knees remain parted. As he draws in a deep breath, my eyes scan downward. Malcolm is dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a dress shirt. His pants are just snug enough to showcase his ample package. I lick my lips at the thought that he's not even hard, yet he shows well. It makes me instantly wet. What it is about this man that sets my hormones firing up is beyond me. In so many ways, I find him to be a complete asshole. But at the same time, it's a paradox. Those same qualities that I find annoying about him, also turn me on, and it frustrates me. The men that I meet in business, I never mix with pleasure, as a rule. But the men that I meet outside of business, have the same objective in mind that I do. They want it and nothing else. Which is why, the more that I think about it, the more that I'm convinced that this is the reason why Malcolm seems unreachable, and yet he’s irresistible, all at the same time.
I take my eyes away from him as his eyes meet mine, and he responds to my jibe. “The world does not revolve around you, Stephanie. I realize that that is quite a blow for you. But as long as your cousin isn't a danger to any of my family, my uncle Dougall’s priorities lie with the business. While Rory is grounded, and isn't flying a plane, he's a backup investigator and a security guard. You're a filler. That's all.” His words sting, and he knows it. It's his passive way of taking the reins back on this argument. The man is stubborn. And I like it.
“As I've said many times before, I can take care of myself. So, like you said to your brother, you can call Rory off, regardless of whether or not a hurricane is looming.”
Just as he says this, a gust of wind and rain hits the window in the living room, crashing against it like someone has thrown a spike at it, startling me. My feet unconsciously push back, and I set the chair off balance. Malcolm rises quickly, catching me before I fall. His scent crawls up my nostrils, setting a trap. Our noses practically touch, and his eyes are immediately on my lips. The attraction is unmistakable. I can feel the heat from his skin on mine, yet we’re not actually touching. By his eyes, and the way that they’re searching mine, I can tell that he’s battling with himself.
“I’ll go batten down the shutters outside.” He says, his voice husky.
He pulls back, but as he does, he’s scanning my body.
...and I don’t know how much longer we can both hold out...