Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
INDIGO
I sit pressed against Malik on the couch, his body warm and solid against mine. We're both only in our underwear, a perfect contrast to the weight of everything that’s been building. Shrek is playing, but I’m barely paying attention. Malik runs his fingers absentmindedly through my hair, the soft tug of his fingertips grounding me in this moment. It's funny how the simplest things can feel like a lifeline, a reminder that there’s still some semblance of peace to cling to. The tension from the past few days lingers between us, but for now, I can almost forget it’s there.
Almost.
My phone buzzes on the table in front of us. I don’t need to look to know it’s from Brandon. I don’t even need to ask myself what it might be. The phone he gave me is the one lit up and waiting for me.
I reach over and grab it, sliding it open without hesitation. The name stares back at me in cold, ugly black letters: Elias Sungshrew, 38, Caucasian. His photo fills the screen—dark, emotionless eyes that make something cold twist in my gut. The details fall into place quickly: he was caught with a sixteen-year-old girl but got off on a technicality.
My throat tightens, but I don't let it slow me down. I don't need to get emotional about this. I can already feel the pulse in my temples, the focus locking in. I read on about the girl—Marissa. Her name sticks with me, the tragic details of her life hitting like a punch. She tried to end it all after what he did to her, and now she's in an inpatient program for assault survivors. The thought of her hits a nerve I don't acknowledge, not yet.
I look over my shoulder at Malik, and he’s already watching me, his gaze sharp with understanding.
He knows the plan before I even say a word. "On it," he mutters, and I don’t need him to say more. He pulls out his phone and starts typing with the efficiency of someone who knows exactly how to handle these kinds of situations. Less than five minutes later, he’s found the headline—a small town in Washington, where Elias and Marissa live. It all falls into place too easily.
“Looks like we’re going to Washington,” I say, my voice low but firm. I don’t hesitate. This is happening. “I’m not gonna just take some headline’s word for it. I’ll see this guy myself. I need to know if he’s guilty. The internet lies, the news spins the truth. I’m not wasting my time on something that’s not worth it. But if he’s guilty…” I let the sentence trail off.
Malik doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll go get us packed.” He slides out from under me, his body leaving a cold spot where he was, but I don’t need him to stay close right now. We’re both locked in our roles, and there’s no room for distractions.
I send a message back to Brandon, my fingers typing faster than I can think.
Me: Heading out soon. Will be investigating myself before committing.
His response is quick.
Unknown: Understood. Let me know.
I exhale, but it’s not a sigh. It's just the space I need to collect myself. Everything’s moving exactly how it should, and there’s no turning back. It’s as simple as that.
I get up, shaking off the heavy in the room, the feeling of everything shifting under me. But I’m not wasting time on "what ifs." That’s not how I operate. There’s no hesitation, no doubt.
"Babe!" I call. "Pack my leather pants and the red polka dot top. I’ve got a vision."
I hear Malik’s chuckle from the other room, his voice soft but knowing. “Of course you do.”
The Aria Haven Resort is even more impressive in person. The Chamber booked it with no questions asked, no red tape, no complications—just how I like it. From the moment we step inside, the scent of jasmine and polished wood fills the air, and warm, dim lighting casts everything in a soft, golden glow.
Malik rolls our single suitcase with one hand, his other arm slung casually around my shoulders as we move through the grand lobby. I don’t bother taking in the details—expensive chandeliers, sleek marble floors, the quiet murmur of moneyed guests enjoying their secluded luxury. I’ve stayed in places like this before, but Malik? He whistles low as we step into the private elevator.
We don’t speak as we ride up to the top floor, and when we reach our suite, Malik swipes the keycard and pushes the door open. The moment we step inside, the tension of the outside world fades.
The suite is expansive—sleek blue and silver tones, a massive king-sized bed, and floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase the glittering skyline. But what really catches my attention is the oversized jacuzzi tub by the window.
Malik gives a manly grunt of appreciation, tossing the suitcase aside as he takes in the room. “It’s nicer than the pics showed.”
I smirk, shutting the door behind me. “We could’ve stayed in a normal room.”
“No way, baby,” he says immediately, pulling me closer. His breath brushes against my temple as he murmurs, “If this is what we’re doing, we’re doing it big. Every time. No questions. You deserve it—for what you’re risking… for what I’m risking.”
The weight behind his words is clear. He knew what he was signing up for. But hearing him acknowledge it like this…
His lips press against the top of my head, warm and steady. I turn in his arms, looking up at him, searching his face for any trace of doubt.
“You can go home,” I say quietly. “Or stay here. Don’t be involved. I don’t want you hurt.”
His jaw tightens, dark eyes locking onto mine. “No, baby. I’m in it like you are. You told me to choose, and I did. I’m all in.” He exhales through his nose, his grip on me unshakable. Then, with a smirk, he adds, “But if I pass out, just let me lie there in embarrassment. Wake me when it’s over.”
I snort, shaking my head. “Deal.”
I glance toward the jacuzzi, steam rising from the bubbling water, and grin. “Now, how about we go test out that jacuzzi?”
“Indigo,” Malik groans, but I see the fire in his eyes.
“Come on, sexy. Me, you, naked, with bubbles and jets…” I trail my fingers down his chest, teasing.
His hand snaps out, landing a sharp slap on my ass that makes me yelp. “Get your sexy, crazy ass in that tub right now.”
I bite my lip, stepping backward toward the bathroom, a slow, deliberate retreat.
“Yes, sir.”
His growl follows me inside, and I know we won’t be leaving this suite anytime soon.
Elias fucking Sungshrew still has a job.
I shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow, I am.
Archway Financial must have no fucking morals. Then again, why would they? A company like that—deep in corporate greed and quiet scandals—probably doesn’t care that one of their senior investment analysts is a predator. As long as he brings in money, they’ll turn a blind eye.
I watch him from a distance as he exits the sleek glass doors of his office building, dressed in a crisp suit that costs more than most people’s rent. He looks confident, unbothered. A man who’s never had to face real consequences.
But that’s about to change.
Malik is holed up in a coffee shop a block away, probably stalking my location like an overprotective bloodhound. I refused to let him come with me. Told him—nicely—that he’s too damn noticeable. He’s built like a linebacker and carries himself like one, too. Me? I’m small, fast, and programmed to move like a shadow. Blending in is second nature.
He agreed, begrudgingly, only if I let him track my phone. Like a fucking lost cat.
Elias crosses the street toward a bistro with an air of entitlement, the kind of man who expects the world to cater to him. I follow, slipping in just behind him.
He steps up to the counter and orders something unnecessarily pretentious. “Single-origin Ethiopian pour-over. No cream, no sugar.” His voice is smooth, dripping with fake charm. “And an avocado tartine with heirloom tomatoes and a six-minute egg. Extra microgreens.”
I grab a Reuben and black coffee, paying in cash, and casually take a seat at the table kitty-corner from him. I eat while watching him over the rim of my drink, pretending to scroll on my phone.
His own phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, smirks, and stands up. Without a second thought, he tosses his half-eaten tartine into the garbage before striding toward the door. I’m already moving, slipping behind him as he steps onto the sidewalk.
“No, no, no. We’re good. My lawyer got that shit tossed out. The slut won’t be a problem. She’s locked up in some looney bin.”
I freeze, fingers curling around my cup.
He pauses, listening. Then he chuckles. “I have a new, fresher piece on the line now. Name’s Natalie, and she just blossomed, if you catch my drift?”
The air in my lungs turns to ice.
“Yeah, I’m meeting her tonight at the Aria. You know these young whores love a good show of money. They get all ‘ooo ahhhh,’ and it’s easier to take what we want. What we deserve.”
I grip my phone so tightly my knuckles go white.
As I walk past him, I nod like I’m just another patron on a call, blending into the background.
That’s all I need.
He’s mine.
Now, I just have to find out what room is his… and give him a little surprise.
The wheels are already turning as I head to meet Malik.