Malia Thornbury, heir and next hope for the Thornbury family, is destined to be married.
Her father sent her to various houses, looking for a perfect wife, of her choosing, for an arranged marriage so she can take over her family's business and und...
We walked into the pub and Malia's arm was solid around my waist.
"You're squeezing." I whispered.
She ignored me with a kiss to my temple as she led us to a booth.
"Scoot in." She nodded and I did.
"What do you want to drink?" She asked.
"Piña Colada." I said and she began walking away.
Many eyes were following her, looking at her ass. Including me.
She looked incredible, her dress forcing her body to reveal its natural shape against the fabric.
Her straight, shiny black hair was smooth down her back, the ends hitting her ass with every step, her arm tattoos, neck tattoos were very apparent, her thigh tattoos peaking themselves from the from string area of the dress.
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I wanted to drown myself in her. Her smell, her taste, her skin, her body.
It was incredibly hard to not touch her all the time, my hands wanting to crowd her.
We in a form matched in her eyes. She chose a dress for me that she'd wanted to see me wear since I moved in.
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It helped provide a bit of cleavage but it more brought out my waist to hip ratio.
She came back, setting my drink down, sitting beside me instead of the other side.
"This is...different." I laughed.
"Meeting someone. You're gonna get a sneak peak of my life with vulgar words." She kissed my cheekbone.
I blinked.
"It'll only take a half an hour." She grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze before picking up her drink and sipping on it.
"Why can't you just tell me?" I frowned, growing nervous.
"Because I'm not too sure if you'll like me after." She gave me a smirk symboling that the fact didn't bother her.
"And if I don't?" I asked.
"You're mine. If you don't like me then that fucking sucks for you." She shrugged.
"If I do?" I frowned.
"Then great. Because I'll love you either way." She looked back, her eyes following a man who walked over to us and she stood, shaking his hand.
He looked about older 20's? Brown hair, clearly fascinated by Malia.
"Is this... a friend? Sister? Cousin?" He offered his hand to me.
"My wife." She gave a beautiful smirk as she sat down.
"W-wife? As in, you like women?" He blinked.
"Love them. That's beside the point. I killed him. I hope you have the money because I am most definitely not a prostitute and will do no sexual acts of payment. What your assistant told me you desired was inappropriate and god it was disgusting." She clenched her fists and I placed my hand on her thigh, tugging up the material of her dress so my hand could fit higher.
I ran my fingertips up and down her thigh, my face stoned with the confession of what she'd done.
"I thought I made it clear I didn't have the money." He smirked.
"Then you better pray that whatever god you believe in will give you grace, white boy. As far as I know, you need to pray for your life or that half a million dollars falls into your lap by next week. Otherwise, you'll meet your maker real soon honey." She chuckled. Crossing her legs so my hand was trapped on her, between both thighs.
I felt my throat close, time nearly freezing in place for me.
I didn't know how I felt.
"How about you talk to your fathers and-"
"This is my business now. They have nothing to worry about. Besides, if I chose something, they back it, if sticks and this is fucking stuck. I don't care what you do, sell drugs, fuck it be a prostitute yourself, I want that money. Or else I'll stick my gun so far up your ass you could taste the gun powder. Capish?" She smiled, like it was a game.
"How does your wife feel about this? Does she know about this because she looks a little pale." He glared at me, his face red with nerves and embarrassment.
"As curious as I am, it won't change anything, but yeah, what do you think of my choice baby?" She looked at me and I frowned, not wanting to respond, not even having a response.
"I think he should mind his business." I croaked and she chuckled, her arm laying over the booth, her hand behind me, playing with my hair.
"Seven days Nico. Otherwise... well you get the gist." She stood and grabbed my hand that was stuck between her thighs, pulling me to my feet.
She didn't turn around as she walked outside and I followed like a puppy.
"Seven days for that much money? It's like you want to kill him!" I scoffed.
She sighed.
"Car first? Then you can shout." She pleaded and I huffed, getting in the passenger side by myself.
She opened my door.
"Redo. Out." She told me.
I got out. She closed the door, opened it, when I got in she buckled my seatbelt, closing my door.
She got in her side and looked at me.
"Yes, darling?" She asked.
"How many people have you killed?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"Many."
"Why?"
"Because they risk my business becoming less successful."
"Do your dads-"
"Who do you think raised me, Noelle? I kill, I need the money, I know he has it, so he will give it. If not he goes up into heaven with the birds and the flowers." She pinched the bridge of her nose before grabbing both of my hands.
"I don't know what to tell you. The point of this was for you to hear this. I can't justify my crimes to you, you need to figure out how you feel, so you questioning me isn't going to make much of a difference for me." She shrugged.
She kissed both of my hands. She grabbed my chin, pressing her lips to my forehead.
"But regardless of how I feel, I'm never letting you go."
