Bright Like Midnight: Chapter 4

my hand into my eye, I willed the throbbing ache in my skull to disappear. I had too much shit to do to be dealing with one of my headaches.

Julien walked up the steps of the porch, throwing his backpack down on the ground, and flopped down in the chair beside mine. “S’up?”

I nodded to the computer in my lap. “Writing.”

He leaned over me, scanning the paper I’d been trying to write for the last two hours. “Oh shit. Is that for commerce? You have Krasinski, right?”

“Yeah. He’s as big of a hard-ass as you said.”

Julien and I were both juniors in the business school. He was majoring in marketing. I was in operations management. Savage U had one of the best business schools in the country, and the professors were at the top of their field. Dr. Krasinski had a reputation that went beyond the hallowed walls of Savage U. Internships and employers looked highly on applicants with recommendations from him. So I was busting more ass in his class than I ever had.

Julien gave my arm a slug. “See? The torture you’re going through right now is karma for making fun of my misery last semester. Krasinski is no joke. You’ll walk out of his class a hundred times smarter than you walked in—after he whips your brain around a blender all semester.”

I tried to laugh, but the sharp pain behind my right eye sobered me instantly. “Fuck.”

Julien cocked his head. “Did you take something?”

“No.”

“Jesus, don’t be a martyr. Go get a pill.”

“No.”

He turned toward the slightly cracked front door. “She’s in there, isn’t she?”

With a heavy exhale, I opened my eyes. “Yeah. She’s dusting.”

Julien sputtered a laugh. “Oh, shit. You’re taking this ownership thing so seriously, you have that girl ?”

“I do. I could have her doing a lot worse. She made the choice to take on Schiffer’s punishment. I’m not letting that slide. He disrespected Reno, and by extension, me. In my eyes, she showed the same disrespect by being there with him.”

He sobered, studying me intently. “So, Schiffer gets off completely free while that girl has to dust our raggedy house?”

Setting my laptop on the small table beside my chair, I leaned back and clasped my hands on my stomach. “His punishment is losing the girl and having to wake up every day with the knowledge that she’s mine and will do whatever I want her to. He never gets to touch her, look at her, or even think about her.”

“You’re cool with being an asshole. Got it. That doesn’t explain why you won’t go inside to grab a Tylenol when you’re obviously in pain.”

Climbing to my feet, I grabbed my laptop. Julien knew exactly what he was doing, and I was rising to his bait, but fuck, my head was splitting in two. “Look at me going inside.”

With a snicker, the asshole followed me into the empty kitchen. The house was quiet except for the barely there squeak of the floorboards in the living room where Zadie must have been.

She’d shown up at four sharp, wearing another one of her ultra-feminine skirts. This one came down past her knees with a slit going up to midthigh. There’d been nothing inherently sexy about her skirt, plain white tee, Chucks, and jean jacket, but she filled out every spare inch of fabric with her tits, ass, hips, and cute little soft belly. I had to walk out the door when she started dusting or I would have made good on my threats and stuffed my cock between her pretty lips. I wouldn’t have felt bad about doing it either—she was mine and had agreed to all that entailed—but I preferred an enthusiastic partner. So my ass was outside while plump ass was inside. That was the only way it would work.

I swallowed a couple painkillers and chugged a large glass of water. Julien handed me a Coke from the fridge, and I first pressed it to my eyelid, then popped it open and took a long swig. He’d been around me while I had a headache enough times to know my routine.

Julien was making himself a sandwich, and I had a hip propped on the counter when Zadie came in, faltering at the sight of the two of us in the kitchen.

“Oh.” Her gaze swung to his loaded sandwich. “I was coming to start dinner.”

Grinning, he brought his sandwich to his mouth. “Have at it.”

The way she crinkled her nose at him made me want to bend her over my lap and spank the annoying habit out of her. It bothered me enough when she made that face at me. Seeing her do it toward Julien drove a railroad spike through my head.

“Are you even going to be hungry?” she asked.

He nodded enthusiastically while he chewed. “Hell yeah.”

“He’s a garbage disposal.” I folded my arms over my chest. “He consumes enough for three men.”

Her gaze slid past me back to Julien. “Is there anything you don’t like to eat?”

“Nope. Food and me get along. What are you making us tonight, Chef Zadie?”

She giggled softly, gravitating to his side of the kitchen. Her casual conversation with Julien while she’d barely acknowledged me heightened my fury, making the pain in my head sharpen like a fucking knife.

“I was planning on pasta primavera with grilled chicken. I usually omit the chicken when I’m cooking for myself, but I thought a houseful of men would want protein. So—”

“Whose property are you, Zadie?” I growled, taking a prowling step toward her. “Do you belong to Julien? To Marco? To all three of us?”

She backed up until her ass hit the island and she could go no farther. My hands came down on either side of her, trapping her in place. “Who, Zadie?”

“You.” Her shoulders curled inward, like a flower retreating into itself when the sun set. “You own me.”

“That’s right. I do. So why are you asking Julien what he likes to eat? Why are you telling him what’s for dinner tonight?”

“I’m sorry,” she rasped.

Dipping down, I got in her face. “Answer me.” When she refused to look at me, I lifted her chin with my knuckle. “Answer me, Zadie.”

Her eyes were round and blue like robins’ eggs. Her nose twitched, but it didn’t crinkle.

“Julien’s easier to talk to.” Her response was barely above a whisper, but I heard every syllable.

“He’s not your friend.” I held on to her jaw and speared Julien with a hard look over her head. He continued eating his sandwich, making no move to interfere. He wouldn’t, unless I completely lost my mind, which never happened. But there was something about Zadie that tested me. “Do you not remember who brought you to me at the party? Julien is loyal to me, not you. He knows you’re mine. Don’t go to him for protection from me. You won’t find it.”

“Okay.” Her chin trembled, but she held tight to her tears. “I won’t do it again.”

“I know you won’t, because you’re a good girl.” Releasing her jaw, I trailed my fingers over the velvety skin of her cheek and down the side of her neck. “You want to be good for me.”

“I do.”

I touched my nose to hers. “Make me dinner, little mama. I hope you brought your frilly apron. I’m going to sit here to watch the show, and I’ll be disappointed if you don’t have it.”

“I have it.”

“Good.” I straightened. “Get going.”

With a smirk, Julien stuffed the last of his sandwich in his mouth and strode past me to exit the kitchen. I circled the island, grabbed a seat on one of the stools, and opened my laptop back up to the paper I’d been working on before Julien came home. My head was still throbbing, but some of it had been dulled from the meds, so at least I didn’t want to claw my brain out anymore.

I typed one word before my eyes were pulled from the screen to Zadie tying a neat, fluffy bow at the small of her back. She turned around, heading for the fridge wearing an apron that looked like it came from the fifties. Why the fuck did that make my dick feel like it was going to punch a hole through my pants? Probably because I was picturing her in the apron and nothing else. Maybe I’d clear Marco and Julien from the house for the night and order her to do just that. That show would be for my eyes only.

While she chopped vegetables and boiled water, I wrote another paragraph, but it was like pulling teeth to get my thoughts from my brain to the screen. And when I did, they were such utter garbage, I slammed my fist down on the backspace button, deleting it all.

The chopping had stopped. Zadie was watching me beat up my computer from beside the stove.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Just trying to write a paper on the plastics industry in China.”

“Krasinski?”

“Yeah.” I cocked my head. “How’d you know?”

“I took that class last semester.”

“With Julien?”

Her shoulders lifted slightly. “Yes, I think so. I recognized him at the party, but we never spoke during class. I didn’t even know his name.” She started to come closer but stopped herself. “Do you need help? I know it’s a really difficult course. I had to study all night sometimes, but I got an , so if you have questions…”

If I wanted to, I could tell her to write the paper for me, and she would. We were both well aware of the power dynamic here. I had it all, and she did as she was told. It fucking infuriated me that she would bow even lower, asking me if I needed help without me first demanding it. I’d thought Zadie had bigger balls than that, even under her soft and meek exterior. Yes, I took pleasure in her giving in to me, but this? No. Her offering kindness when it wasn’t deserved was weakness personified.

A vise tightened around my aching head. My angry heart thrashed wildly in the cage of my chest. Agitation drove me to need to do .

“Why would I want that from you?” Clicking my laptop shut, I picked it up and crossed the kitchen to peer into the pots on the stove. Water was close to boiling. Meticulously chopped veggies were waiting to be sautéed. Spices lined the counter, carefully measured out. It looked good, great even, but fuck it. “Look up the number for Savage Pizza. Order two larges—one mushroom and onions, one pepperoni.”

“But—” Her lips parted. “Should I put this away for tomorrow or—?”

I kicked open the stainless steel trash can we kept tucked under the end of the counter, picked up the chopping block, and dumped all the vegetables into it. Zadie’s whimper barely registered. Once I’d started, I was on a mission. With one violent sweep of my arm, the spices landed in the sink and scattered on the countertop. Boiling water went down the drain. Satisfaction filled my chest to see it all gone, out of my sight, done for good.

Zadie clutched her hands under her chin, watching my actions with horror written all over her pretty face.

Slamming the trash can shut, I peered at her from beneath tightly furrowed brows. “We’re not friends, Zadie. You don’t come to my house, flirt with my friend, and act like we have something in common just because I’m taking the same class you took—along with the rest of the business school. If I need help, I’ll ask Julien. Not you. Never you. You get what I’m saying, girl?”

Her apple cheeks were flushed red. Her teeth dug so hard into her lip, I would have been surprised if there wasn’t blood when she let go. Little Zadie wasn’t happy with me. Now, we were even. I hadn’t been happy with her since the night we met, and the pit of disdain between us was only growing deeper by the day.

“Okay,” she rasped. “I get it, Amir. Should I…should I make dinner for you tomorrow night? Is there something you would prefer more?”

“What did I tell you yesterday?”

She closed her eyes for a long moment, exhaling a shaky breath. “You told me to come here every day unless you said not to.”

“That still stands. I don’t want you in my house anymore tonight. Let’s both hope you do better tomorrow so I don’t have to waste a shit ton of food again.” I snapped my fingers. “Call in the order and leave.”

Zadie flinched like I’d struck her, and for a second, I regretted being harsh on her, but only for a second. She had a place here, and it wasn’t going to be a comfortable one. I’d been nice to her once. That had been a mistake, but I hadn’t recognized it until her dainty claws had already sunk beneath my skin four months ago.