Malibu (Elite 8 Studios Book 2) by Emmy Sanders

Author:Emmy Sanders [Sanders, Emmy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-02-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Henrik

When I step inside my home, I’m brought up short. Someone is laughing, and it’s not Mal.

The voices quiet, and then Mal calls out. “Henrik?”

I resume taking off my suit jacket and shoes, eternally grateful as I step forward that the guests’ footwear aren’t lying haphazardly on the floor. “We have company?”

After another stressful day at work, I was hoping for a quiet evening at home with Mal. It appears my plans have been thwarted.

Mal steps close—easily identifiable by scent alone if I weren’t also accustomed to the cadence of his walk—and brushes his hand down my arm. “Sorry,” he says softly, not quiet enough to avoid reaching the visitors’ ears, but gently like he means it. “I should’ve called to let you know. I didn’t realize how late it’d gotten.”

I shake my head, brushing off my earlier disappointment in the wake of Mal’s sincere, concerned words. “You’re free to have guests whenever you please,” I remind him. “Care to introduce me?”

“Of course,” he says, taking my hand and tugging me forward. I hide my surprise, not anticipating Mal would have been so comfortable being familiar with me in front of his friends. I can’t say I mind one bit. “Henrik, these are my friends Dixon and Alex. Guys, this is Henrik.”

“The sugar daddy,” one of the men says, his voice light and teasing.

“That’s Alex,” Mal fills in for me, dropping my palm. I can practically hear the eye roll in his tone.

I reach forward, and, as expected, Alex fills in the distance to shake my hand. His palm is smaller than Mal’s. I don’t bother to correct his sugar daddy assessment because it’s not exactly wrong. But I do make sure he knows, “He doesn’t call me Daddy.”

“No?” Alex asks, releasing our shake. “Are you looking for a firm hand of your own, then? ’Cause I’m available.”

Alex laughs, and by the way he stumbles back suddenly, I get the sense Mal shoved him. “Back off, you horndog. Be polite.”

“Don’t know the word,” Alex mumbles.

“Nice to meet you,” the other man, Dixon, says. His voice is deeper, and when he clasps my hand, it’s larger, too. I remember Mal letting slip that Dixon was upset about the client who choked him. I have a feeling Dixon and I will get along just fine. “Sorry about the children.”

“You’re like, four years older than me, Dixie-poo,” Alex says.

“Five,” he corrects, letting go of my hand.

“And how many years older are you than Mal, Henrik?” Alex asks sweetly. I get the impression he’s a well-intentioned shit-stirrer. He and Benji would get along swimmingly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mal answers for me, guiding me to the left toward the two-seater chair as his friends settle on the couch. “You sure it’s okay that they’re here?” he asks me again.

“Yes, Mal,” I reply, running my fingers up his arm to his neck. His hair is pulled away from his face today, I notice, and I miss the feel of the strands against the back of my hand. “It’s more than okay.

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