Page 22 of Deranged Imposter

His heated gaze looms over the top of my head, but this is too good to think about the consequences. College is boring half the time, so any entertainment is a good show. Even at the expense of a very grouchy and vengeful man.

“May I borrow ten minutes of your time?” Aquilina asks, unaware of her friend being upset.

“No—”

I clinch Mikah’s bicep, nails digging into the rippling muscles. “Yes! Take your time.”

Moving a hand to his back, I give him a ‘gentlemen never make ladies wait’ kind of boasting pat, after which he opens the gates of hell with his glare.

I almost want to ask if I can eavesdrop on their conversation. This vibe feels like a confession, but it doesn’t take ten minutes to do it. I would be so disappointed if I missed her reciting the love letters because I just know she would add flair to her voice.

“Hi,” I say to the neglected man. “I’m Isabella.”

“Nate.”

He shakes my hand nervously, and my heart staggers at the clamminess. It’s obvious, his overflowing crush on Aquilina and disdain toward Mikah for stealing her attention.

“Don’t worry,” I comfort while sparing the other two a fleeting glance. “Mikah doesn’t like anyone, and he’ll turn her down gently.”

I’d like to hope I eased some of his hurt and anxiety when he stops slouching so much.

Mikah abruptly shows up next to me, hand lunging for mine to drag me away while ignoring the sputtering man. Aquilina’s heel snaps, sending her flying into Nate’s arms, but the force propels them to the ground.

She’s determined, he’s elated, and they’re a strange duo.

“For that stunt, I’m not sharing my dessert anymore,” Mikah grumps as he adjusts his harsh grip on my hand. “You lost the privilege.”

I laugh defiantly. “I’ll steal themandmake a dentist appointment for you.”

Chapter Six

Mikah

I’m an avid observer.

I study law; I see loopholes everywhere.

Control is an appealing act of art; it needs astute concentration, time to detect routine adjustments, and the skills of a criminal’s heart.

I don’t need to endanger us to justify deceit. I consider it normalcy. In my eyes, she presents all the right opportunities. If she didn’t want this, then she would’ve stopped me the first time I asked for her phone’s passcode.

To check for viruses; I recall giving that weak excuse.

She never changed the password, meaning she didn’t mind that I knew it. Why let me know if it’s not permission to look through the content?

She lives with me, so it makes sense to sync our calendars on one device, as detailed as possible. This helps us bring peace and structure to our busy university lives because sharing meals is a family activity.

Isa tells me when she goes shopping, and I always offer to drive her. It’s dangerous to walk alone, even if it’s in a relatively safe neighborhood on a clear day.

Having a part-time job would hurt her academics, which I bluntly told her when she mentioned it during her freshman year. My mother would be disappointed at her dropped grades. She bought Isa the newest textbooks and fastest tech devices, smiling with hope on her face as she offered a variety of encouragements.

I hated the feeling of jealousy when she had a crush on this Physical Science postgrad. She fawned over him for an entire week, squealing about his steel scrubber hair, his perfect teeth whiter than an onion, and his irrelevant, peculiar name.

She must have gone mad to look at another man when I’m breathing down her neck.

That was the week when I was swamped with papers and tests. I feel that every time I dive deep into my studies, Isa ends up doing something simply to mess with me.

Her moving out of the penthouse without my permission when I wasn’t paying attention was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Next time, she might end up getting lost in an escape room game.

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