Complicity [h.s]

31

Aven Brooks

Sitting at the edge of my bed, my hands rub the skin of my knees raw. A chill continues to coarse me as a constant reminder that fear, in its entirety, is what I should be feeling. I'm out of options and I can't keep concealing this any longer. I've been asked about the necklace three times, and my excuses for not having it are running dry.

The loud thunder breaks the silence of the night, capturing my attention. In the past, the sound of thunder used to make me flinch, but I have grown accustomed to it. I haven't flinched in a long time. The rain is coming down hard and the wind is shaking my windows. I can't help but desire the storm to take me away, erasing any trace of my existence.

My chest tightens as the sound of a stern knock echoes through my door.

"Mariana," I hear Zayn enter. "He's ready to see you."

Back to the door, I take in the view of my window one last time. I suck in a confident breath and nod, standing up to my feet. Turning around, Zayn stays within the doorway dressed in his usual proficient attire, waiting to escort me to Malikai's office as if I can't find it myself.

I silently walk past him and down the south wing of the estate. He follows.

If I don't say anything now, Malikai will assume I'm in on what Harry has planned when holding the necklace as ransom. I have to confess before that happens. I've done everything in my power to get it back, everything but admit what Harry wants me to admit.

Admit I'm in danger.

Admit I'm unhappy.

I know all it would take for me to get that necklace back was to say yes. But I can't admit something so idiotic— I won't. No matter how much he wants me to. It's not simple, none of this is simple. I tried stealing it back, I tried being stern with it. Nothing worked, and now they probably have it locked up in a place I'll never find it.

So, the only thing left to do is confess.

"May I ask you why you've requested this meeting with your father tonight?" Zayn speaks.

I don't answer, I know he'll be in the room anyway. He can find out then. I haven't rehearsed what I was going to say. I'm not sure if that will make things worse or not. Maybe I should've calculated a negotiable agreement.

Zayn doesn't follow up with anything else as we approach the oak double doors of Malikai's office. Guarded by two of his men, they open the doors for us. Once open, warm lights leak through from a crackling fireplace at the far end of the room. Bookshelves from floor to ceiling, a massive mahogany desk, tall window pane—he stands by his fireplace, broad back to us.

"Your daughter is here to see you, sir." A guard mentions.

The doors close, echoing a sealing thud through the estate. Two guards stay in the room with us, waiting by the door as Zayn aligns with them. I stand alone in the center of the room, pausing for an acknowledgment before allowing myself to sit.

Malikai looks over his shoulder, with one hand resting on the banister and a glass of scotch in the other. His face breaks into a smile as the fireplace illuminates his skin.

"Princess." He greets, turning around and sauntering toward his desk. His blazer is off, but he's still dressed well. Black pleated dress pants, white button-up open a quarter of the way down, shiny black dress shoes.

"Hi, father." I nod, picking at my nails but keeping my stern stance.

Thunder roars.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" He comfortably takes his seat in the oversized brown leather chair exemplifying his superiority.