CHAPTER 5 #2
The media paints Malcolm Vance as a monster. Vivian’s internet search made him sound like a mob boss in a tailored suit. But sitting here in the dark, watching the subtle tension in his jaw, I realize the truth is much more complicated.
He is a monster. But he’s a monster with a code.
"And then he did it to me," I say, the pieces finally clicking together.
"And then he did it to you," Malcolm confirms.
He reaches out, his fingers brushing against the edge of my plate. It’s a tiny, insignificant movement, but the proximity makes the hair on my arms stand up.
"I am not a good man, Audrey," he says, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "Do not mistake this arrangement for charity. I am using you to dismantle my father’s legacy just as much as you are using me to get your company back."
"I never thought you were a good man," I reply, my voice surprisingly steady. "Good men let people like Simon win because they’re too polite to fight dirty. I don't need a good man right now. I need a weapon."
Malcolm’s expression hardens. The air in the kitchen starts to feel too thick to breathe.
He leans in, his face inches from mine. I can smell the faint trace of whiskey and cedar on his skin. My heart gives a hard, erratic thump against my ribs, but I don't pull back. I refuse to be the one who breaks first.
"Be careful, Audrey," he murmurs, his gaze dropping to my mouth for a fraction of a second before snapping back to my eyes. "Weapons don't care who they cut."
"I'm not afraid of getting cut," I lie.
I am terrified. I am terrified of the way my body reacts to his proximity. I am terrified of the fact that I feel safer in a room with a dangerous man than I ever did in a room with a safe one.
Malcolm studies my face. He knows I’m lying. I can see it in the slight curve of his mouth.
Before he can call me out on breaking the transparency rule, a sharp, vibrating buzz shatters the silence.
I jump, my knee knocking against the underside of the counter.
The sound is coming from the pocket of my jeans. I reach in and pull out my phone. The screen is glaringly bright in the dark kitchen.
I look at the notification. All the breath leaves my lungs in a single, painful rush.
Simon (2:45 AM): Audrey, please. I know you’re still in the city. The lawyers said you haven't cashed the severance check. We need to talk. Don't make this harder than it has to be.
My thumb hovers over the screen. A wave of nausea hits me, entirely unrelated to the pizza.
He has the nerve to tell me not to make it harder. He steals my life, replaces me with a twenty-three-year-old, and then texts me at three in the morning playing the victim.
"What is it?" Malcolm asks.
The low, dangerous edge is back in his voice. The vulnerability from a moment ago is gone, instantly replaced by the enforcer.
I turn the phone around and slide it across the marble counter.
Malcolm doesn't touch it. He just reads the screen. I watch his face, waiting for a reaction. I expect him to sneer, or to make a sarcastic comment about Simon’s pathetic timing.
Instead, his expression goes completely blank. It’s a terrifying kind of stillness.
"He wants to talk," I say, my voice shaking slightly despite my best efforts to control it. "He thinks I’m going to negotiate."
Malcolm picks up his tablet. He doesn't look at the phone again.
"You are not going to reply," Malcolm says calmly.
"I know that." I grab the phone, shoving it back into my pocket. "I just... I hate that he still thinks he can summon me. He thinks I’m just going to sit in a cheap apartment and cry until he throws me a bone."
"He thinks that because it’s what you’ve always done," Malcolm says.
The words hit me like a slap. I flinch, the sting of the truth burning the back of my throat. I open my mouth to defend myself, to tell him he doesn't know anything about my relationship, but the words die on my tongue.
He’s right. I was the accommodating fiancée. I compromised. I bent over backward to make sure Simon’s fragile ego was never bruised.
Malcolm stands up. He walks around the island, stopping right next to my stool.
"Stand up," he orders softly.
I swallow hard, sliding off the stool. I am standing so close to him that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
"He thinks you are weak," Malcolm says, lifting his hand.
I freeze. His knuckles brush against the side of my neck, right below my jaw.
The touch is feather-light, completely at odds with the violent energy radiating from him.
My pulse stutters. The contrast between the cold metal of the vintage ring on my finger and the heat of his skin against my neck short-circuits my brain.
"Tomorrow night," Malcolm murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw, "there is a charity gala at the Field Museum. The mayor will be there. The press will be there. And Simon will be there."
My eyes widen. "Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow." Malcolm drops his hand, stepping back and severing the connection.
The loss of his touch leaves a cold patch on my skin.
"We are going to walk into that room, Audrey.
You are going to wear a dress that costs more than his car.
You are going to wear my ring. And you are going to let him realize that you are no longer a civilian. "
I press my fingernails into my palms, trying to anchor myself. The fear and the adrenaline are mixing together, creating a toxic, intoxicating cocktail.
"What if he talks to me?" I ask.
A slow, lethal smile spreads across Malcolm’s face. It’s the smile of a man who has already won the war before the first shot is fired.
"He won't," Malcolm says. "Because I will be standing right next to you."
He turns and walks out of the kitchen, disappearing into the dark hallway leading to his master suite.
I stand alone in the kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound in the room. I look down at my left hand.
The diamond catches the faint light again.
I came out here for a slice of pizza. I am going back to my room as the weapon of a billionaire psychopath.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, open the message thread with Simon, and hit Block.
Then, I walk back to the guest bedroom, and for the first time since I arrived, I don't lock the deadbolt.