Page 54 of Malachai
Cooly shrugged like someone pointing a gun at him was just another Tuesday. “I’ve had worse. You are married to a hitman, Midnight. It was expected.”
“You didn’t tell me you were Black Axe royalty.”
He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “You didn’t ask. And I liked the version of you that didn’t know, because that ain't me, that’s my daddy.”
He leaned in, his shadow swallowing mine against the mirrored wall. He was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body, making the sweat on my neck feel cold by comparison. He smelled like something good to eat.
“But I would have used him if you’d taken me up on my offer to handle the Russians for you,” he whispered, his eyes searching mine. “And you could still have your freedom. You wouldn't be back in that house with a man who lies to keep you.”
I looked up at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. I knew the answer, but the question felt like it needed to be asked anyway, for my ego. “Why would you have done all that for me, Cooly?”
He reached out, his thumb catching a bead of sweat on my temple and dragging it down my jawline.
I should have pushed his hand away, but I just stood there.
“You know why,” he said, his gaze dropping to my lips before snapping back to my eyes.
I cleared my throat. “I need to go home. I don’t have any more classes.”
He tilted his head. “Come grab a bite with me. You owe me at least that.”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah… I do. Let me shower and change.”
We ended up at a quiet waterfront spot in Tampa. Over grilled snapper and wine, Cooly got straight to it.
“I can get you out,” he said quietly, his eyes locked on mine. “For real this time. New name. New life. You say the word and I can make Malachai be just a memory to you.”
My chest tightened. A few weeks ago, I would’ve said yes without blinking.
“I can’t,” I whispered. “We've got issues, but running away ain't going to solve anything and will only create more.”
Cooly didn’t look surprised. He just leaned back, studying me.
“Then friendship,” he offered, the same easy smile from New York sliding back into place. “Like before. No pressure. I didn’t only come down here for you anyway. I’m expanding my business. Half of New York and Cali are in Tampa now. It’s a good market.”
We talked for almost two hours—about New York, the club, dancing, everything except Malachai. He flirted without pushing. It felt… safe. Familiar. Like breathing air that didn’t taste like possession.
By the time I got home, the sun was going down.
The house smelled like vanilla and sugar. A sleek white cake sat on the kitchen island with fresh strawberries and edible gold flakes.Welcome back, little birdwas written in elegant script across the top.
Malachai leaned against the counter in a black button-down, sleeves rolled up, watching me.
I stopped in the doorway. “What is this?”
“A celebration,” he said simply. “First day back teaching. I asked Maya what you’d like.”
I stared at the cake, then at him. “Is this part of your ‘trying something new’ plan?” I didn’t know how to feel about this.
He pushed off the counter and walked over to me, stopping just close enough for me to feel his body heat.
“Haven’t I always tried to give you everything?” His voice was low, calm. “The cars you wanted. This house. The studio I kept open for three years even when I didn’t know if you’d ever come back. The morning after we got married, I put every asset I owned in your hand. You’ve never wanted for anything I could give you, Indigo.”
I couldn’t argue with him. He was right. Terrifyingly right.
He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from my face, his thumb lingering on my jaw.
“I’m not good at the soft parts,” he admitted flatly. “But I’m learning what works. For you.”
