Chapter 110: It Was Her, It Was Ivy Harpley.

Malachi’s pov

This was a fucking mess.

I didn’t mean to say that to her; it just dropped. Defence, I guess. It wasn’t like I had been doing anything with Tatianna.

Gideon already dismissed her but I had gone after her to tell her to get a picture of Harper Kingsley if she could, since our PI couldn’t get a picture of her through his research. Then she had mouthed off at me and I just wanted to teach her a little lesson.

I didn’t expect the bitch to moan when I slammed her against the wall. And I sure as hell wasn’t expecting Ivy to even be in the house.

Ivy stormed forward, her shoulders set with in that fiery temper of hers. I would love nothing more than to tease her about it, but she looked like she would hack my head off right now. Not exactly the time for jokes.

I reached out, my fingers wrapping around her arm, stopping her dead. "Whatever you’re thinking of doing," I warned, "you better not."

She wrenched her arm away, spinning to face me. Her amber eyes were blazing like a wildfire of hurt and anger. "Or what? You’ll pin me against the wall? Don’t worry, I’m not your type. I’m not a cheap, desperate tramp."

She might as well have smacked me in the face with that insult. I couldn’t decide if it was the insult or the fury in her voice that aggravated me.

I hated it. I hated the idea of her going to some club, letting another man touch her, dance with her, fuck her. And I hated even more that it bothered me this much. This feeling was a weakness, a vulnerability I couldn’t afford.

So, I did what I always did. I went defensive.

I let her go, holding my hands up in mock surrender. "Go on, then little Ivy, be my guest," I sneered, my voice dripping with mockery.

"Try it. As if any other man in this city could give you the pleasure I can." I turned my back on her, walking towards the house, praying she wouldn’t call my bluff. "When you’re done throwing your little tantrum, come back in."

I didn’t hear her move, but I heard the faint, mechanical whir of the gate opening. I glanced back, and my blood ran cold. She was rushing through the gates, her back straight, head held high.

"Fuck!" I cursed, bolting after her. "She’s so fucking stubborn!" I couldn’t believe this. I was actually running after a woman. "Ivy! Get back here!"

I was too late. By the time I got outside the mansion, her car was peeling out onto the street, a flash of red tail lights disappearing into the night. I swore again, my hands clenching into fists, and sprinted back into the mansion, heading straight for the garage.

Gideon and Roman came out the front door, with Ro shoving a whining Tatiana out, his voice dangerously soft despite the words he was saying.

"Why are you still around? Do you not like your head attached to your body? If you’re still here in the next five minutes, I’m going to be forced to take drastic measures. Leave while I’m still being a gentle man."

"Giddy will you seriously let him do this to me?"

Gideon ignored her, his eyes locking on me as I bolted for the garage. "What happened?"

"Ivy’s going to a fucking club," I spat, storming into the garage.

The air instantly changed, thickening with tension as my brothers immediately followed me. Roman’s face went dark, his easygoing warmth vanishing, replaced by a chilling look in his hazel eyes. "Which club? What are you talking about?"

Gideon’s eyes narrowed. "She was here? At the house?"

"Yeah," I grunted

"Why?" Roman snapped, turning on me. "What did you say to her, Kai?"

"What’s with the fucking assumption that I screwed up?" I snarled, my frustration boiling over as I snatched my helmet off my bike. "Is this really the time for questions?"

I didn’t wait for an answer, my mind replaying our argument, her hurt face flashing behind my eyes. Why did I say that to her? When I got my hands on her, I was going to punish her for making me feel like this.

I zoomed out of the garage on my bike, the engine roaring. A glance in my rearview mirror showed Gideon’s sedan pulling out behind me, Roman in the passenger seat. Of course they were coming.

I pulled out my phone, my knuckles white on the handlebars as I dialed her number. It rang, and then she picked up.

"Hello?" Her voice was breathy, laced with a defiant edge.

"Where are you?" I demanded.

"I’m a little busy at the moment," she purred, and I could hear the thumping bass of club music in the background. "Having fun."

My jaw tightened. Then I heard it. A man’s voice, all slurred, calling out in the background. "Hey, beautiful, come dance with me!"

I almost lost my damn mind. I saw red. "Ivy, I swear to God-"

She hung up but before her location vanished on my screen, I caught it. What the fuck was she doing downtown?

I pushed the bike faster, weaving through traffic, my brothers following behind me. We screeched to a halt in front of some club named Glitter. The bouncer took one look at us, his eyes widening, and immediately unhooked the velvet rope to let us in.

We pushed through the thronging crowd, my ears almost deafening from the terrible music playing, then we saw her.

On a table in the center of the room, surrounded by a cheering crowd, was Ivy. She was dancing, her body moving with a raw, seductive grace that was both breathtaking and infuriating at the same fucking time.

Her head was thrown back, her hair whipping in the air like a halo, hips swaying to the beat. She was a goddess of chaos, a siren calling to every man in the room and I got flashbacks to New Year’s Eve.

The woman in the mask that had been dancing on the pole.

My muse. It was her. It was Ivy Harpley.

Roman’s voice cut through my epiphany immediately. "What’s our girl doing on the fucking table?"