Page 43 of Toxic B!tch
Art is forever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MALIK
Indigo lingers longer than she usually does. She watches me, her gaze heavier than it should be, like she’s weighing something unseen. I don’t call her on it. Not yet.
Instead, I finish eating, dusting my hands off on my jeans before nodding toward the room behind me. “Come on,” I say. “I’ll give you the tour.”
She hesitates—not out of uncertainty, but something else. Then, without a word, she follows.
The inside of the house smells like sawdust and fresh-cut wood, the scent thick in the cool air. Sunlight filters through the unfinished windows, casting long, broken shadows across the floor. I’ve spent long hours bringing it back from the ashes. Now, it almost looks like something whole again. Almost.
She huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head. But steps further in, running her fingers along one of the newly installed beams. The way she moves is careful, almost reverently, like she understands the work that’s gone into this place. I like that about her. Most people don’t notice the details, the hours of sweat andlabor, the way every board, every nail has a purpose. But she does.
“Show me the rest?” she asks, glancing up at me.
I watch her for a second too long, then clear my throat. “Come on.”
I nod and lead her deeper into the house, pointing things out as we go. “This’ll be the living room,” I tell her, stepping into the open space. “Vaulted ceilings, lots of natural light. Fireplace over here.” I tap a boot against the brick hearth. “Going for something classic, but with a little modern touch.”
She nods, eyes scanning the unfinished walls. “I like it. Feels... warm. Even now.”
I don’t know what it is about the way she says that, but something about it settles deep in my chest. I clear my throat, moving on before I let myself dwell on it for too long. “Kitchen’s this way,” I say, leading her toward the back of the house. “Big island, custom cabinets. Should be nice once it’s done.”
She pauses in the doorway, looking around. “You do all of this yourself?”
“Most of it. Got a couple guys that help out, but yeah, a lot of this is me.”
She gives me a look I can’t quite read, something between admiration and curiosity. “That’s impressive.”
I shrug, suddenly feeling the need to keep my hands busy. “Just takes time and patience.”
She steps closer, trailing her fingers along the edge of the framing. “Still. It’s a lot.”
I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. “You look like you got questions,” I say, my gaze locking with hers.
She tilts her head slightly, arms crossed. “What happened here?”
“It was a new build,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at her. “Supposed to be someone’s dream home. But before the owners could even move in, someone came through and set the place on fire.”
She exhales softly, her gaze sweeping the space, taking in the bones of what’s left. “Why?”
I shrug. “Some kind of criminal, I’m sure. Probably wanted the copper in the wiring, then torched the place to cover their tracks.”
INDIGO
I force my expression into something neutral, but inside, my pulse kicks up, my fingers curling at my sides. Malik talks like he has it all figured out, like this was just some petty crime, some lowlife looking for a quick buck.
Copper.
The idea almost makes me laugh. If only he knew what really happened here. If he could see the masterpiece that was created within these very walls.
A warmth spreads through my chest—through my entire body—at the memory.
Ramon, bound and broken, his arrogance stripped away, leaving nothing but raw, trembling flesh beneath my hands. The way his breath hitched when realization dawned. The moment he finally understood his place in the world—beneath me.
He was the most magical dickhead I’d ever worked on.
