by Elise Noble
So why was I still going?
Because if it meant I got one last “date” with Malachi, I’d endure any amount of cattiness and sniping and hints about free manicures.
But first, I had to apologise for leaving him with the dirty dishes last night as well as pulling a disappearing act. Which would perhaps have been easier if I could walk. I stumbled out of my bedroom like a drunk, clutching at the wall for support as my hamstrings burned and my back twinged.
“A little sore?” Malachi asked.
Of course, he looked perfectly composed, leaning against the dining table with a mug of coffee in his hand.
“How do people go to the gym every day?”
“Once your muscles build up, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to walk properly again. I need one of those motorised carts you get in Walmart.”
“In that case, why don't you stay home today? I can pick up lunch and bring it over.”
Really? Hmm… Lunch with Malachi was a whole lot more appealing than lunch with Marelaine and five hundred strangers. But then the guilt hit again, a sucker punch to the gut. Jean-Luc was a friend, and he’d saved me two tickets that he could have given to someone else if I’d cancelled in advance. I had to put in an appearance at least.
“No, no, I’ll be fine. I have Advil.”
Malachi didn’t look particularly convinced by my declaration, but he filled me a glass with water while I dug through the bathroom cabinet. How many of these pills could I take in one go? Right now, I needed the whole damn lot.
I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.
I repeated the mantra over and over, but even I wasn’t entirely convinced.
Malachi had bought me breakfast again, a white-chocolate-and-raspberry muffin this time. And he made better coffee than I ever did. This was what I needed in a man. Somebody who cared. Somebody who’d be there to hold me up when I was at my lowest. And I was becoming more and more doubtful that that somebody was Jean-Luc.
Should I tell Malachi how I felt? What was the worst that could happen? That he’d run a mile and our new “friends” arrangement would be null and void? I didn’t think I could stand that, not when I’d only just gotten to know him.
So I kept my mouth shut, put on a pretty dress and dainty pumps, and climbed into the Camaro beside him for the trip to Le Parade des Chefs. Yes, he had a Camaro. This was the car he’d picked me up in that horrible night a year ago, the night he’d saved me from getting arrested, and the car had a lot to answer for. It was where my stupid attraction to Malachi had started, and the vibrations from the engine weren’t helping today either.
At least when we arrived, I had an excuse for holding his hand. For putting my arm around him and leaning into him when he kissed my hair. And then there was the absolutely glorious moment when Marelaine caught sight of him for the first time, and her jaw actually dropped.
My smile was genuine as I made the introductions. Even Jean-Luc looked surprised.
“Jean-Luc, Marelaine, meet Malachi. Malachi, this is Jean-Luc, one of my colleagues from Rhodium, and Marelaine, his girlfriend.”
Malachi shook Jean-Luc’s hand, kissed Marelaine’s, then beamed at both of them. “It’s good to finally meet some of Imogen’s friends.”
Jean-Luc swallowed. “Likewise. How long have you been dating?”
“Only a few weeks, but it feels like much longer, doesn’t it, babe?”
“It does. Sometimes, the heart just knows what it wants.”
“How did you meet?” Marelaine asked.
Malachi answered again. “Through a mutual friend. My lucky day. Imogen’s the girl I’ve been waiting for my whole life.”
If I hadn’t known better, I might have believed Malachi meant that. He sure was a good actor. Probably it came from all that undercover work the Blackwood team did.
I stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Our lucky day.”
A lady with a clipboard meandered past and pointed at Jean-Luc with her pen. “Five minutes, Monsieur Fortier.”
“I’d better get my chef’s whites on. There should be three seats with your names on them right at the front.”
Sure enough, there they were. Marelaine Oliveira, Imogen Blair, and Imogen Blair’s guest. I shuffled closer to Malachi as Marelaine took the spot on my left.
“What’s Jean-Luc cooking?” I asked her.
She shrugged one shoulder. “Something French?”
Knowing Jean-Luc, he’d have talked about his dish constantly for the last week. She hadn’t listened at all?
“Well, I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”
And it was, but the best part was still Malachi’s company. We each got a portion of Jean-Luc’s spectacular croquembouche, and Malachi gave me most of his as well as finding me a glass of wine and feeding me more Advil. My hero. Today, I was the centre of his world, and I cherished that feeling. This was what I wanted, not the scraps Jean-Luc tossed my way. I’d always like him as a friend, but I’d come to realise he wasn’t relationship material.
Still, I was thrilled when he won the contest along with the title of Virginia’s best pastry chef. Marelaine didn’t even attend the medal ceremony—she’d disappeared to the bathroom fifteen minutes earlier, and either she was still waiting in line or she’d gotten distracted.
“Want another glass of wine, babe?” Malachi asked once the official photos had been taken.
“I’d better not, but I’d love a glass of water.”
He leaned down to kiss me on the cheek. “Back soon.”
Jean-Luc watched him go. “Is it serious between you?”
“More serious than any other relationship I’ve been in.”
That wasn’t exactly a lie. Every other one of my relationships, if you could call them that, had been a disaster. At least I’d still want to speak to Malachi after today.
“Ah.”
“Ah? What does ah mean?”
Jean-Luc fidgeted a bit, which wasn’t like him. “I was just wondering whether you’d have dinner with me one day.”
“Of course. We often have dinner.”
“I meant in more of a date sort of way.”
Oh. If he’d asked me that two weeks ago, I’d have jumped for joy, but now not only could I not jump because my legs still ached, I didn’t want to go on a date with Jean-Luc either.
“What about Marelaine?”
“I think we’ve run our course.”
“Does she know that?”
“I was planning on telling her this evening.”
Jean-Luc trying to line me up before he split with his previous girlfriend just felt…sleazy. I’d definitely made the right decision, but I wanted to let him down gently because he was a friend. And that was all he’d ever be.
“I’m sorry it hasn’t worked out for you two, but I don’t think we’re right for each other. So it’s a no on the date, I’m afraid.”
Jean-Luc shrugged, indifferent, so at least he had that in common with his soon-to-be ex. “Some you win, some you lose. I wish you all the happiness with Malachi. And I’ll bring you over a box of pastries on Monday.”
No hard feelings. Phew. Now I could focus on the future. My future. Malachi was right—I needed to stop pretending and put myself first. No more wild partying, no more hard drinking. I had some friends now, good friends, and they were worth more than the superficial relationships I’d gotten caught up with in the past. And I was a survivor. This week, I’d learned a lot about myself as well as getting through an attempted abduction, an actual abduction, and a fight. Was that some sort of record?
I smiled as Malachi came back, clutching a bottle of water. Was it me, or did he look odd? Kind of wide-eyed?
“Are you okay?” Usually, that was his line.
“I am now I’ve escaped.”
“Escaped from what?”
“Marelaine. She cornered me by the bar and propositioned me.”
“What? Are you serious?”
/>
“She fondled my cock, babe.”
My first thought was holy hell, the woman had balls. Not Malachi’s, luckily. My second thought? What a bitch.
“How dare she? I mean, that’s low when you’ve got a girlfriend.” I wished. “Well, a pretend girlfriend, but she doesn’t know that.”
“And she’s got a boyfriend. I feel sorry for Jean-Luc.”
“I wouldn’t feel too bad for him. He’s planning to dump her this evening.”
“He told you that?”
“Yup, when he asked me out on a date.”
“Fuck me, that pair deserves each other.” Why had Malachi gone all stiff? “Uh, what did you say? About the date, I mean.”
“I turned him down.”
“Sorry it didn’t work out, babe. I know you liked him.”
“I’ve come to realise that he’s better as a friend. I’ll keep looking for the right man.”
Speaking of looking, Malachi’s gaze changed. His eyes darkened from their usual friendly twinkle to something more intense. Smouldering, even. And I was ninety-nine percent sure I recognised that expression because I wore it too. It said I want you. Holy freaking hell. Could I be right?
“Except… Except I think… I think I might have found him?”
Malachi didn’t bother to answer, and the next thing I knew, he was half-carrying me out of the exhibition room. Suddenly, my legs didn’t hurt anymore, and it wasn’t due to the copious amounts of Advil I’d taken.
I stumbled, but Malachi didn’t let me fall. I knew then that he’d never let me fall, but he did almost throw me into his car before jogging around to the driver’s side.
“Babe.”
That was it. One word and his lips were on mine. He kissed like a demon, fiery and dangerous, and I climbed halfway over the centre console to get as close to him as I could. My brain had barely processed what was happening, but Malachi Banks was mine and I was his. The rest we could work out later.
I lost track of time before we came up for air. All I knew was that my lips stung from stubble that was fast becoming a beard, and if we didn’t get somewhere private quickly, then we’d both get arrested for public indecency. I already had my hands under his shirt, and the halterneck on my dress was undone.
Luckily, he seemed to have had the same idea because he lifted me back into my own seat and started the engine.
“Hold that thought, Miss Thomas.”
Hearing my old name didn’t hurt anymore, not when it came from his lips. It felt more like a secret we shared.
“Where are we going? Home?”
“My place. It’s closer.”
He’d barely mentioned anything about his house, but as long as it had a bed, it would be perfect.
“Drive faster.”
“At least I brought the right car for that, babe.”
CHAPTER 24 - IMOGEN
MALACHI SKIDDED THROUGH the electric gates into his driveway, and I got my first look at his place. Located on a quiet street on the outskirts of the city, it was bigger than I expected—two storeys with a two-car garage set at a right angle to the main house. The lot was mostly grass with a few trees, but the landscaping around the house was obsessively neat with potted flowers, perfectly edged borders, and not a weed or dead leaf in sight. I guess Malachi’s experience in horticulture had paid off. And apart from one smaller home next door, the property wasn’t overlooked by any other houses—privacy I’d only ever dreamed of.
But I didn’t have time to gush over the manicured lawn or the wraparound porch or all the space because Malachi had the front door open.
“I’ll give you the tour later.” He paused in front of an electronic panel beside the front door. “Why’s the security system off?”
“Maybe you forgot to set it?”
“I never forget to set it.”
He changed from heady lust to strictly business in the blink of an eye, and a gun appeared in his hand. I didn’t even see where it came from.
“Stay behind me.”
It was fate, wasn’t it? Conspiring against me—us—as we tried to finally plug that person-sized gap in our lives. Or what if it was Kyle? On my own, I would have been terrified, but Malachi was so calm, so confident, I managed not to freeze.
We crept through the house, pausing to check one room after another. My heartbeat was loud in my ears, and each time we moved on, my knees quaked harder. Malachi reached back with his free hand, and I clutched at it. He gave me a comforting squeeze.
“Don’t worry, babe. I’ve got this.”
Breathe, Imogen. Just breathe. Don’t think about dying. I tried to focus on the decor instead. Malachi seemed to be a fan of monochrome—almost everything was black, white, or grey—and it wasn’t until we reached the master bedroom upstairs that we found a splash of colour.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growled.
Erin lay on the bed, wearing a nightie skimpier than any of mine and a dirty smile.
“Waiting for you. What’s she doing here?”
“What, do you need a fucking biology lesson? How did you get in?”
“With my key.”
“I took your key back.”
“I had a spare made in case I lost it.”
“Get out.”
“You don’t mean that.”
Malachi rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Yes, I definitely do mean that.”
“Why do you keep messing around with that woman? If you’re trying to make me jealous, it isn’t working. I’m worth ten of her.”
“You’re delusional.”
“No, I’m just honest.”
She also knew how to get her digs in where it hurt the most. I’d never be a model like her, all long legs and huge hair. Mom always said I’d never amount to much, and I hadn’t even gotten my high school diploma.
Malachi moved fast. In a second, he’d picked up Erin, arms around her waist as she turned into the bitch I’d met in Florida. Her limbs flailed as she kicked and screamed.
“Imogen, get the front door.”
I hurried ahead down the stairs, fingers trembling as they fumbled at the lock. After what seemed like forever, I yanked the door open, but Erin managed to grab onto my dress as Malachi carried her past, clawing and tearing at the fabric as she wailed. By the time he got her outside, the beautiful silk looked more like a Halloween costume, and my heart was threatening to hammer through my ribcage. Even then, she didn’t give up, and her arms snaked around the door like a zombie in a horror movie. I unpeeled her fingers from the doorjamb as Malachi muttered curses under his breath.
“Doesn’t this psycho ever give up?”
The door finally closed with a click, and I sagged against it with relief, only for the crash of broken glass to come from the next room. Malachi hastily punched commands into the security system, and the house turned dark as metal shutters rolled down over the windows.
He crouched beside me where I’d slithered to the floor. “Babe, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“Her nails didn’t break the skin this time.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“I’m fine.”
He gathered me up in his arms, and tears prickled at the corners of my eyes.
“Stop pretending, Imogen,” he murmured.
A sniffle escaped before I could stop it. “No, I’m not okay.”
Banging came from outside as Erin threw whatever she could get her hands on at the house. It sounded like bricks.
“Shit. Let me fix this.”
He helped me to my feet and clicked on all the lights as he led me through to a study on the first floor. Monitors on one wall showed Erin beating the hell out of the shutter over the front door with one of the metal flower pots that had decorated the front porch.
“Now what? Should we go out there?”
“No way. She wants my attention, and if she gets it, she wins. Don’t worry; I have favours owing.” He pulled his phone out of his pants pocket and spoke softly int
o it. “I need a car at my house. Erin’s lost her mind, and she’s trying to break in. I’m inside with Imogen… Yeah… Yeah… Somewhere far, far away.”
I didn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but when Malachi hung up, he glanced at his watch.
“Fifteen minutes and she’ll be gone.” His phone rang, and he checked the screen and answered. “Yeah, I know, buddy. Thanks. Someone’s on their way to deal with it.” This time, he smiled as he stuffed the phone back into his pocket. “That was Deon, calling to tell me Erin’s trying to break in. His bedroom window overlooks the garden, and he keeps an eye on things.”
“Shame he didn’t see her arriving in the first place.”
“Yeah, it is. Fuck.” Malachi sucked in a deep breath. “I should’ve changed the locks.”
“You couldn’t have known she’d do this.”
“I should’ve guessed. She’s totally unhinged.”
“Besides, you were too busy changing my lock, which was so freaking sweet.” I’d lost my shoes somewhere in the struggle, so I stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. “You’re so freaking sweet.”
He kissed me back, properly with tongues, and I’d even started to enjoy it when a loud bang made me jump. A glance at the monitors told me Erin and her dented plant pot had moved around the house.
And now she started screaming. “She’s a whore, Malachi!”
Another jab right between the ribs.
“Don’t listen to her. She’s a raving lunatic.”
He lifted me into his arms, bridal style, and carried me upstairs where it was quieter. A pile of Erin’s clothes still lay on a chair beside his bed, and he raised one shutter high enough to drop them out of the window. I threw her pumps out too.
“Talk to me, babe.”
At first, I wasn’t sure what to say, but I’d promised to stop pretending. “I’m scared.” When I held out a hand, it was still shaking. “Scared of everything. Of Erin. Of being on my own. Of doing something wrong and screwing up possibly the best thing ever to happen to me.”
Malachi kissed my forehead. “I’m scared too.”
“You? Scared of what?”
“Of losing you. I get we haven’t known each other for long, but I’m already in deep.”