The Deity of Death (Virgins and Villains #3)

Chapter 2

2

MELINA

W hat the hell was that?

A new level of crazy, even for me. That’s what.

I walk with rose-pink cheeks through a noisy, crowded club, narrowly avoiding dancers as I trot. I can’t help but feel it’s his fault. His golden eyes burning through my dress, begging for a glimpse. How he tried to hold his cool but fumbled in the most inconspicuous of ways.

And God, the sheer size of him is enough to drive any woman crazy. Taller than a door-frame and nearly as wide.

“Father will be glad you’re finally here.” I turn my head over one shoulder as I speak, only to find Malik lost to another haphazard inspection of my body, lingering particularly long on my ass. A little giggle escapes my lips.

I can’t deny catching this monster’s attention makes me feel incredible. One of my biggest fears about dropping everything back home and coming to a foreign land was finding out that none of them would be interested in me. And considering what Dad and I have agreed to, that wouldn’t be good for business.

“Why’s that?” Malik asks. He’s moved on from attempts to avert his attention when I look at him, but I suppose I’m at fault for giving him this confidence. Why should he feel ashamed staring at my ass when he’s seen my panties?

“This place unsettles him.” I sigh and turn my head back to the table where my father is seated. He’s staring at the ceiling while chewing on a fat cigar.

“The hotel?”

Damn, he’s handsome. His fiery eyes are enhanced by the mane of black hair brushing against his shoulders as he walks. His razor-sharp jaw, so strong it could cut through diamonds, is peppered with late-evening stubble that only serves to enhance his exquisite features. He’s the perfect wet dream, dressed in a ten thousand dollar suit.

If only he could be mine.

And maybe that’s why I’m going crazy and allowing myself to do naughty things in public places. After all, I’m getting married next week to a man I haven’t even met.

“The country.” I stop where I’m standing beside a table of laughing drunks. “We may all be playing this game together, Malik, but we hold a different decorum in our neck of the woods. Your boss is…”

“Barbaric,” Malik finishes my sentence. I’d have trailed off and left it there had he not. “I understand your father’s fears, but trust that nothing will happen to either of you while you’re here. I vow it.”

I have no reason to believe him, but somehow I do. “Then, let’s get this dirty business out of the way.”

We take the last few steps to Dad.

“Mr. Remington, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Malik says while Dad greedily snatches the whiskey from my hands.

“Likewise.” Dad takes a sip before extending a hand to Malik. They shake while he speaks. “You must be the Deity of Death.”

Malik shakes his head with a chuckle. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time. I see you’ve done some digging.”

“Yes. My daughter’s safety in this negotiation is paramount, Mr. Amine. I’ve done a lot more than just digging.” Dad’s response makes me smile, and it must be contagious, with how Malik’s lips are turned high to the sky.

“I’ll tell you what I told your daughter; your safety has my personal guarantee. I admit, it’s a breath of fresh air to see a father care so deeply for his child, but it raises questions.” Malik scans my dad from head to toe in a similar fashion as he did with me. Only this time, his attention doesn’t linger anywhere in particular once his observations are made.

“Ask it then.” Dad shrugs, sucking down his whiskey in one big gulp.

“Our arrangement, offering your daughter’s hand to Mr. Ali’s son. Why do it if you fear for her well-being?” Malik asks.

“Because it wasn’t my father’s decision,” I answer before Dad gets a chance to. “Someday, my father will step down, and his empire will fall on my shoulders. How better to learn the intricacies of our family business than throwing myself in the deep end?”

“You don’t cease to impress me, Melina.”

“Trust me.” I wink. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Malik crosses his arms over his chest and places a flat palm over his mouth. Maybe he doesn’t want to be seen smiling this much, but I can’t help myself. The butterflies flutter by every time I see one on his face.

And after a moment of composure, Dad staring at us awkwardly, Malik speaks again. “Are we ready to get this show on the road?”

But even as he says those words, his eyes sink, and his face sours.

Maybe I’m reading this wrong. Malik might just be a man interested in a woman. Any woman. And I’m just the one right in front of him.

Still, I can’t stop the feeling that we’re in for one hell of a ride.