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She pauses before I hear her whisper something to someone beside her. “Mahlia wants to talk to you.”
“Mother—”
“Hello, Sparrow.” Her voice slides through my phone like a song you hate playing on the radio. “How is our little prodigy coming along?”
I clench my fist over my thigh. “Fine. Look, I need you here for babysitting duties, and it’s not because I want you to.”
She brushes me off, and I can almost see the way her long, raven black hair moves with the wind, her dark eyes rolling to the back of her head. She yaps off in Portuguese before coming back to English. “Sparrow, you wound me. I thought you knew me better than that? I don’t look after any of them. Which reminds me…why have you pocketed one for yourself?”
“This isn’t that.” My temperature rises. Images of my hands around her throat as I watch the life drain from her eyes fill my mind, calming my erratic pulse.
“Of course, it is…” she teases. “It’s always that. That is something I’ve known since I’ve known you.”
I bite back my initial response. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, lover, and also!”
I squeeze the phone in my hand, my eyes flying to the doorway when I see Malyk now freshly showered and out of his…clothes.
“Don’t forget to warm up my spot.”
I hang up my phone, throwing it onto the desk. I grind my teeth as Malyk slowly lowers down onto the fireplace mantle.
I push back against my chair, my finger tapping against my thigh. “I don’t know if getting Mahlia involved is a good thing.”
Malyk is silent for a moment. “I don’t know. I think she’s fine.”
I lean my head against my chair and trace the plaster lines on the ceiling. “Yeah, with us—”
“Wow,” Malyk jokes, leaning against the marble and bringing his elbow to his knee. “Do not drag me into your and her weird little fuck fest, and I’m sure Dion would agree.”
“Dion would agree.” Dion shuts the door behind him, the tattoos snaking up his arms and neck almost too dark for someone as famous as him. “Whatever you and Mahlia have, it needs to not come near Shiloh, at least not yet.”
“At least not yet?” Malyk asks behind a chuckle. “I have a question. How many times have any of us wanted the same girl?”
I pause. My mouth opens and closes, and it’s not until Dion whines out loudly that I breathe out, “Fuck.”
Never. It has never happened this way. Have we all fucked around and played the part? Yeah. But has Malykevermade a collective statement of being near a girl like he has with Shiloh? No. Fuck. No. We were sure that the only girl Malyk would ever fuck would be a corpse.
“We just need a new plan. Clearly, we’re all doing dumb shit and losing track.”
I snap, turning toward him. He raises a brow in challenge. Smart-ass motherfucker. They are both able to fuck around and lose track. Me? Well, I just don’t have that privilege. “You damn well know that’s not what I’m doing.”
“Forever and always, etc., we know,” Malyk teases, and I relax in my chair.
“How many times have you even wanted anyone, Mal?” Dion throws back, heading to the bar cart and pouring himself a glass of bourbon. “I could count on one hand how many times I have seen you with a girl, and we’ve known you a very long fucking time.”
Malyk shrugs, grinning at both of us. “I don’t want her. I just want to fuck her, play with her, see what she looks like with blood all over her body, shit like that. There’s a difference.”
There isn’t. Not when it comes to Malyk.
I watch as the clock on the wall ticks. An internal battle continues inside me, and I know that everything we do, we have to be careful. “How we go about this is how it’s going to end.”
“She hasn’t told us anything. One, she’s not afraid of us.” Dion lifts one finger. “And I know this because I tried, and I’ve seen her terrified, and trust me”—he looks between us all—“she is not. She trusts us enough to stay here, so maybe we play that card instead of what we’re used to.”
He has a point. She had her tongue down all our throats like she was the one who decided whether we all fuck or not. “I agree. Fear isn’t a way to get through to little Miss Shiloh St. Claire.”
Dion keeps his eyes on mine as he smirks around his glass of bourbon. “Exactly. Let’s take the other route.”
