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I start to speak, to tell him all this, but Adam lunges for me again. He tries to grab at me, hand barely grazing my wrist before we are both interrupted by a voice that booms into the room.
“What the hell is going on here?!”
I turn, heart pounding, as Malcolm strides in with an aura of dominance that demands attention. His eyes blaze, sweeping the space as if asserting his authority over it.
Adam's face blanches, caught off guard by his father's sudden presence. He stumbles, attempting to justify his actions. "Dad, it's not what it looks like. We were just-"
Malcolm's voice cuts through the feeble excuses, his words dripping with a simmering rage. "I saw enough. I saw you pressuring Melody when I heard her tell you no. You’ve been in my house for less than an hour, and this is how you behave?”
A flash of triumph flickers within me as I witness Malcolm's fury. Until this moment, I didn’t realize how much I wanted someone else to see the change in Adam that I’ve seen, too. Everyone thinks he’s so perfect, and that I’m lucky he even noticed me in the first place, but this right here is the Adam that I’ve been wanting to break up with.
“Dad, come on…”
Adam's fists are clenching by his sides, but Malcolm takes a step forward, his eyes searing into his son like icy daggers. "Do you think I’m an idiot, Adam? You’ve been living out of my bank account for years, only showing up when you need something, and now you want to disrespect this woman in my house? I think fucking not.”
Adam's shock gives way to anger, his gaze challenging his father's authority. "You can't tell me what to do, old man. I'm an adult."
Oh, he has no fucking clue. I’ve only just met Malcolm and I know that Adam is way, way out of his league trying to step up to his father like this. I feel uncomfortable and a little frightened, stepping backward slowly until there is plenty of room between the two men and me.
Malcolm takes another step, his voice lowering dangerously. "You're right, Adam. You're an adult. And you can make your own choices. But don't you dare think you can disrespect Melody under my fucking roof. Leave. Now."
Adam's face flushes, the realization of the consequences he's brought upon himself coming to him slowly. He opens his mouth to retaliate, but Malcolm's unwavering gaze and commanding presence silences him.
“You can come back if you get a damned ounce of respect, for me and for the woman that you brought here and who is now my guest,” Malcolm allows, but his tone doesn’t ease up at all. I have a feeling he’s only adding this concession because I’m here, or because Adam is his son. Maybe a little bit of both.
Adam turns to look at me, and the depth of his hatred in this moment makes me gasp. No one has ever looked at me like this before, and it scares me.
Who is this man? Did I even know Adam at all? I see so much in this look—first meeting him when he came into the diner where I was working, our first date at the movies where he seemed so shy to just hold my hand, and the shock from my friends when they found out just who my mysterious boyfriend really was.
Before it all changed, it wasn’t bad. In fact, it was fun. Enjoyable. But in Adam’s look right now, I see so clearly that it was all a lie. It was all just a ploy to get me into bed and then, more than likely, discard me.
“I’m sorry, Adam, but we’re through. I can’t be with you anymore,” I rasp, but I know he’s heard it loud and clear.
I suck in a shuddering breath, meeting his gaze and not looking away. I need to face this and stop living a lie. Even if it means that I’ll be living on the streets within hours.
Without another word, Adam storms out of the room, his footsteps echoing through the mansion, fading into oblivion. The weight of the moment hangs heavy, the charged silence filling the space that Adam's presence once occupied.
I turn my gaze to Malcolm, my chest heaving as I breathe heavily to stop myself from crying. He’s still looking at the door his son just exited from, his expression complicated. Malcolm stands tall, the owner of this space in every sense, his power and dominance radiating from his every pore.
A flicker of gratitude sparks within me, intertwining with a newfound trust and appreciation for this man who has just defended me. Who knows how far Adam would have tried to push me if his father hadn’t shown up? I try not to think how awkward things are about to become now that Adam is gone, leaving me here with his Dad. And I’m not even considering the connection I feel towards Malcolm that is burning even brighter within me now. There is sadness in me but much stronger is something else that is pulling me towards him.
When Malcolm turns to me, I suck in a breath. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," he says, his voice filled with sincerity. "You deserve better than what my asshole son has to offer you.”
“I–” It’s hard to speak, especially when he starts to move towards me. Thoughts of Adam disappear between one second and another. “I appreciate that. I’ll…um…try to find a ride to get out of your hair, Mr. Mayfield. I’ve caused enough drama today, I think.”
I try to keep a light tone, laughing self-consciously, but there’s nothing light about Malcolm’s appearance.
“A few things, Melody,” he begins. Hearing my name in his mouth makes me tingle all over. “First, never call me that again. For you, I’m Malcolm.” He reaches up, his rough fingers moving a strand of my hair behind my ear, and I subconsciously press my face ever so lightly into his palm, as if on instinct. “And second, you’re not leaving. It’s a blizzard out there, and you’re a guest in my home. There’s no way I’m sending a defenseless little thing like you out there to end up god knows where. You’re staying here. For as long as you need to. No arguments.”
Malcolm moves his hand from my face reluctantly, my nerves still firing where he touched me. Only now does it strike me that I slapped his son’s hand away from performing that exact same caress, but I just let his dad do it without hesitation. And I liked it, too.
“Melody?” Malcolm rumbles when I stand there with my mouth half open, unable to think of a single thing to say. “I’m going to need an acknowledgment here.”
Dazed, and raising my hand to lay my own fingers on my cheek, I reply, “Uh-huh.”
His gaze darkens, but not with annoyance. “Uh-huh, what? Say my name, so I know you understand.”
I lick my lips. “Yes, Malcolm, I understand. And, um, thank you for letting me stay.”
