Page 29 of Pretending with the Mountain Man
I force a smile and duck my head, panic rising as Jordyn points out our table to Malik and his companions.
"Ms. Washington!" Jordyn calls, bringing them over. "I didn't know you'd be here tonight!"
"Faculty bonding," I explain, not daring to look directly at Malik. "These are my new colleagues."
Introductions are made, and I finally risk glancing at Malik. His expression is neutral, but his eyes burn into mine with an intensity that makes heat flood my cheeks. Does he know I've been denying our relationship?
"Mind if we join you?" Jordyn asks. "These guys are doing a security check of downtown businesses tonight."
"The more the merrier," Caroline says, sliding over to make room.
Somehow, Malik ends up directly across from me, his presence commanding the space between us. Under the table, his knee brushes mine, and I jerk back instinctively, guilt making me overreact.
"So, Mr. Harris," Ryan says, leaning forward. "Melody was just telling us about that misunderstanding at Forbidden Chains. Quite the creative way to handle unwanted attention."
My blood runs cold as Malik's eyes find mine, questioning. I give an imperceptible shake of my head, pleading silently for him to play along.
"Quick thinking on her part," he says after a beat, his voice betraying nothing. "Always happy to help a friend of my daughter's."
The word "friend" stings more than it should. But what did I expect? I asked for space and belittled our relationship to a ‘misunderstanding’. He's simply respecting my choice.
"But surely you could get her on the guest list at Club Crimson," Ryan persists. "Show her the legitimate side of the place. Clear up those other rumors."
Before Malik can respond, a man approaches our table. Clean-cut in an expensive suit, he looks out of place among the casual mountain town crowd.
"Excuse me," he says, eyes fixed on me. "Are you Melody Washington?"
Every muscle in my body tenses. Malik straightens in his chair, instantly alert.
"Who's asking?" Jordyn demands, protective.
The man produces a business card. "Marcus Wells, private investigator. I need to speak with Ms. Washington about a missing item belonging to the Mills family."
Silence falls over the table. My colleagues look confused, but Malik's expression turns dangerous.
"This isn't the place," he says, voice low and commanding.
Wells ignores him. "Ms. Washington, the Mills family believes you're in possession of a family heirloom valued at approximately one hundred thousand dollars. I'd like to arrange a time to discuss its return."
"I don't have it," I say, finding my voice. "I left that ring on Jason's kitchen counter when I moved out."
"That's not what Mr. Mills reports," Wells counters. "And given the insurance claim they've filed, this is now a matter of potential criminal charges."
I’m positive the word "criminal" echoes through the club. My colleagues' curious expressions turn wary.
"You should leave," Malik says, standing. His size and demeanor make it clear this isn't a suggestion.
Wells backs up a step but doesn't retreat. "I'll be in town until this matter is resolved. Here's my card." He places it on the table. "I suggest you cooperate, Ms. Washington. Things will go easier for you."
After he leaves, an awkward silence descends. Ryan clears his throat.
"Well, that was dramatic," he says, attempting humor. "Ex-boyfriend trouble?"
"I should go," I mutter, grabbing my purse. "Early day tomorrow."
Jordyn tries to stop me. "Melody, wait?—"
But I'm already heading for the door, humiliation and fear churning in my stomach. The cool night air hits my face as I step outside, tears threatening to spill.
