44. Olivia #3
“Remember? Cock block? Fuck me,” Wilder murmurs, looking me up and down with a sigh.
“Fuck,” he hisses again as he recognizes me despite my appearance being different.
But not as Oliver. As the girl who banged Malic in the bathroom of the bar.
“It’s you,” he says with slight relief. “Maybe you can sort him the fuck out.” He throws Malic a look.
“Although you do look familiar. Do we know each other?” His brows furrow more, and I swear to God he’s ten seconds away from figuring it out as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.
My cheeks heat at the memories of us sparring and the way his body felt on mine. Fuck. Am I horny? Is that what’s happening? Because it’s the only thing I can think of. I should be terrified that he’s about to realize who I really am.
But Wilder shakes his head and takes a step back without saying another word about it.
How they don’t put two and two together, I’ll never know.
Maybe it’s the makeup. Or hell, maybe it’s the boobs that throw them off.
It has to be the boobs, because they can’t be this dense.
Right? No one can. Obviously, I did more to my hair than Oliver does.
It’s not flat against my head. No, Simon insisted we have someone style it for me at the mall, and she worked miracles. Just like the makeup covering my face.
Whatever.
This is all to my advantage, right? I’m getting exactly what I came here to get. Malic. And soon, he’ll hopefully take me home, rock my world, and then fall asleep so I can snoop and get my glasses. Then, I’ll sneak out of his house and never return in this disguise. It would be too risky.
“It’s her,” Malic says with a smile again, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “We have unfinished business,” he says with a slight growl in his voice. “Many, many things to work out.”
My brows furrow. “Unfinished business?”
More sex? Is that what he’s referring to? Fuck.
“You have a fight to win,” Wilder reminds Malic, crossing his arms. “And it’s about to start, Mal. You can’t…”
“I’m aware, Keeper,” Malic hums, continuing to stroke my face. “But if I let my little ghost go, she might wander off and leave me again. You wouldn’t do that, would you, Crumpet? Leave me now?” He pouts his lips, giving me his best puppy-dog eyes.
I swallow hard, with a weird feeling bubbling in my gut. Maybe I should wander off and tell the agency that my glasses broke and I need a new pair. Fuck the consequences I know Jonathan will have waiting for me.
Because there’s something there. Hidden deep in the depths of Malic’s wanting eyes.
Something I don’t quite understand yet. Something more than fucking me again.
More than getting me back to his bedroom.
Although I’m willing to risk it all to get what I need.
I have to. I have no choice. I’ve already fucked up this case more than any other case in history.
“You won’t wander off, will you, Crumpet?” He asks again, tilting his head until a bigger smile blooms across his lips. “How about a wager?”
“A wager?” I ask.
“A fucking wager?” Wilder seethes. “Mal, come on, dude. Hux is already getting ready, and you aren’t even dressed for this shit.” He takes a step closer to us, but Malic holds out a hand.
“Hold, Keeper. I have a proposition for my little ghost.”
“I don’t like the fucking sound of this,” Wilder groans with exasperation, looking toward the ceiling with one last huff.
“What kind of proposition?” I ask when silence engulfs the three of us.
“The kind of proposition that brings you home with me,” Malic says with a grin. “The kind that ensures I’ll never lose you again.”
“Only for tonight,” I repeat.
I can tell myself that over and over again, but I’m not certain it will stick.
One night with Malic seems to turn into more than one night.
Like at the bar? I could have gone for another round.
He could have taken me home and fucked me all night.
Just so I could forget for a little bit about where I was and what my agency was expecting of me.
“Ah, déjà vu, huh, Little Ghost?” he says with a chuckle, running a finger down my cheek gently.
I hold my breath as he watches something and then steps back.
“One night, that’s all I need. You and me.
Again. For now.” He shrugs, pursing his lips.
“Will you tell me all your secrets?” He looks deep into my eyes again.
My heart pounds in my chest at his words. “My secrets?” I ask, trying to rein in the terrible feeling building inside me, like this is all something weird and working way too well in my direction. Sweat forms on my palms as I wipe them on my tight jeans. “I have no secrets,” I whisper.
None that I want him to find out. Not now or ever.
“Mal,” Wilder warns. “Seriously, they’re calling your name.” He gestures to the crowd beyond the bathrooms, shouting Maniac. “You’re going to forfeit the fight if you don’t get out there. We’ll be banned from this shithole and…”
“Don’t care, Keeper,” Malic says with a smile.
“Don’t fucking care? What the hell? Have the aliens finally abducted you?” Wilder quips, tossing his arms in the air. “You have to care, Mal! This fight is important.”
“Oh, no. No abductions here. Fuck the fights, Keeper. We’ve got business to attend to,” Malic jokes, chuckling when he grabs my hand. “Now, you have one night, huh? How about you come back home with me, Little Ghost?”
“Mal,” Wilder gapes, staring at his oldest friend in shock.
“Fuck the fights. I have more important things to take care of.” He winks at me, grabbing onto my hand and yanking me into his chest. “So many important things to take care of.”
“What the fuck is happening right now? You can’t seriously be thinking with your dick for the first time in your life,” Wilder huffs, watching the two of us with narrowed eyes. “Mal, you’ve been preparing for this shit. You never miss a fight. You can’t walk out.”
“Sorry, lad. But I can and I will. Fuck the fights. Fuck Huxley Crewes and his friends. I can’t miss this,” Malic says with a manic grin, gesturing to me. “Not a chance in hell, old chap. Now, shall we?” He gestures for me to follow close behind him as he grips my hand tightly.
“Sure,” I say in a small voice, having no choice but to follow Malic with a restless sense of something big coming on the horizon.
“Are you coming, old chap? There’s a cuck chair with your name on it!” Malic shouts as we weave through the crowd, leaving Wilder straggling behind with a blush on his cheeks.
“Fucking shit!” Wilder grunts. “Now I have to clean up all your fucking messes. Again.” He shakes his head.