Page 34 of Toxic B!tch
"You don’t have to?—"
"Shh." I put a finger to my lips. "Take the free drink and let me continue pretending we’re in a horror movie meet-cute."
His deep chuckle makes my stomach do that thing again.
I fucking hate it.
Something’s different tonight.
I flirt, I tease, I work the room like I always do, but there’s a weight to Malik’s presence that I feel no matter where I go. A gravity that tethers me to this spot, tohim, no matter how many times I try to float above it.
He watches me.
Not like the drunk idiots who mistake my smiles for invitations to ruin my night. Not like the cocky ones who think if they tip me enough, I’ll suddenly find them fuckable. Not even like the occasional psycho who stares too long, waiting for me to slip up, waiting to catch me off guard.
No, Malik watches me like heknowsme. Like he’s dissecting every move, collecting every glance, cataloging every breath.
Like he’s learning me.
And that should probably freak me out.
Instead?
It thrills me.
There’s hunger in his gaze, slow-burning and devastating, and it follows me like a second shadow as I pour drinks, as I laugh too loudly at bad jokes, as I lean in close enough to let men think they have a chance. But now? Now there’s an edge to it. A sharpness that makes my skin prickle, and my pulse trip over itself.
I tilt my head at him from across the bar, lips curving into a slow, knowing smirk. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t look away.
My stomach flips.
Not in therun, bitch, someone’s watching youway Ishouldbe used to.
No, this is different. This is the kind of attention that makes my blood run hot. That makes me want to poke at him, test him, push just enough to see what he’ll do.
The worst part?
I think if I peeled myself open, if I let himseethe things lurking inside me—the rot, the hunger, the things no one else gets close enough to touch?—
I think he’d still look at me like this.
And I don’t know what the fuck to do with that.
I’m about halfway through my shift when the universe decides to remind me that I can’t have one fucking nice thing.
Because who the fuck struts into my bar like she owns the place?
None other than Elle.
Fucking Elle.
The blonde parasite who once sunk her manicured claws into my man, playing her little poor me games, bleeding him dry before tossing him away like garbage. The same chick who acted like she was doing him a favor by wasting his time.
My stomach clenches. I hope Malik doesn’t notice her. Hope she keeps her gold-digging, remorseless ass moving. After all,hewon. He came out victorious in this game she played.
But luck?
Not on my side tonight.
