The Deity of Death (Virgins and Villains #3)

Chapter 14

14

MELINA

M alik should terrify me. The way he strolled into danger with swagger and confidence and never once allowed his calm bearing to slip. Hell, he shot a man right in front of my eyes—even if they were shut tight the whole time.

Yet, he doesn’t. I haven’t felt threatened by him once, and today, he proved I never have to. He protected me with reckless disregard for what it meant for himself, even if his aim was to take over Omar’s empire. Anything can come of this, regardless of all the best-laid plans, but the way he holds onto me and pulls me tighter to his side says he just doesn’t give a damn.

“How long has this been going on?” Dad gestures between us, emphasizing whatever our budding relationship is.

I coil my legs over Malik’s, and his hand instantly latches onto my bare calf. We’re at his dining table, with stacks of papers, empty whiskey glasses, and the gun that ended it all sitting atop it.

“Since the night we met.” Malik’s eyes gaze deep into mine.

At his behest, we’re in his home for the night. Everything we left at the hotel should be considered lost until the dust settles regarding Omar’s death. Neither Dad nor I see any issue with it. He’s doing as he promised and ensuring our safety.

“It would be wrong of me not to give you some praise, Henry,” Malik continues, but his attention never breaks from me. Not for an instant. “You’re an awful businessman, but I feel your talents lie in producing offspring.”

I burst out laughing. What a silly thing to say, though I don’t believe his jab was fully in jest. Dad has a laugh of his own, pouring another round of drinks for all three of us.

“Yeah, well, I’m used to dealing with empty suits that want papers signed. I bit off a little more than I could chew coming here,” Dad admits. His honesty lets me believe he trusts Malik.

“Wouldn’t it be prudent then to let me be your bulldog?”

Dad’s eyes nearly pop out of his head at Malik’s offer. “Why would you want to go and do something like that when you’ve just claimed an empire of your own?”

“Because bureaucracy bores me. I’m in control of oil; you’re in control of turning it into a product. Why not keep to the same arrangement, only I won’t be a middleman?” His hand slides up my leg and to my knee. Every inch closer to my intimate parts makes his chest rumble with excitement.

“Same deal, you say?” Dad sips his drink, eyes tilting to the ceiling while he contemplates the offer.

“Right down to the marriage,” Malik adds, but it’s directed straight at me. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

An actual proposal from a man I actually want to be with? My heart starts doing cartwheels in my chest, and I squeal in excitement.

“A thousand times, yes,” I screech, flinging my arms over his shoulders. The sudden motion sends Malik’s hand up my dress, and his knuckles graze the wet patch between my thighs.

I force my moan down so as not to make Dad uncomfortable, but Malik doesn’t hold back his howling. A wide smile explodes over his face, and he leans in to kiss me. I yield, even with my dad in the room.

How can I not? He’s offering us everything we wanted for Remington Oil while simultaneously fulfilling my childish dream of a perfect wedding.

As he pulls back, the smile never fades. Even as he returns to business with Dad. “I’ll remain a shadow on your board with voting interests. You’ll get the oil at a much fairer price. And in turn, you’ll be welcomed to the same services I offered Omar.”

Malik still hasn’t removed his hand from my dress. He starts moving it slowly, allowing his knuckles to grind against my clit, and though my breathing hastens, I fight back any urges to make a sound. There will be time for that later when Dad’s gone to bed.

“Let’s not pretend you’re going back to life as normal with our oil. The second you boarded your plane in London and traveled here, you knew a target was put on your back.” How does he do it? Talk like nothing is happening, while under the table, he’s giving in to his deepest desires?

I’m not even speaking, and I'm a mess, panting and twitching, while I try and hold an ounce of decorum.

“Fine. The deal as agreed,” Dad yields. “We all know I could use a bruiser in my corner.”

“And who better than the Deity of Death?” Malik chuckles.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll let you two talk about wedding preparations.” Dad sucks down his last swallow and gets up from the table.

“Night, Dad,” I say, right before Malik drives another thrust against my sensitive bud.

“Goodnight, love.” And with that, he walks off, whistling a happy tune that falls silent as his bedroom door shuts.

“So, are we going to talk about the wed?—”

“No fucking chance,” Malik cuts me off before flinging his mouth onto mine again.