“You want me to talk to him about it?” I ask.
He nods. “I want to know if he invested because he likes my work or just because I’m your friend.”
I nod.
chapter 9
Matleon
After Zo’s race, we leave around midnight. Zo takes Avi home, leaving Iselyn with me. The moon is shining brighter tonight, and why not, for the first time, my Angel didn’t protest coming with me. And I know there is a reason behind it, most probably related to that boy. I need to remind myself every time his name touches her lips that he is just a friend who has a girlfriend, whom he loves like they were lost lovers of the Aegean Sea, according to Jeremiah, my spy. That man has a deep interest in romantic literature.
In the car, she starts the conversation from the point I was expecting.
“Why did you invest in Dex’s startup?”
“I found it worthy of the investment.” And also, to keep some power over her friend.
“Is that the only reason?”
I smirk. “Not really, but it’s a good enough reason.”
She narrows her eyes.
She is wearing a dark green blouse, her curly, fire-like hair is loose tonight, framing her beautiful face, whereas she mostly keeps it in a ponytail or bun. The moon is doing its absolute best to make her face shine, especially her eyes.Why is she so beautiful?She is breathtaking, even while looking at me withso many doubts and questions written across her face. Her lips pressed together, her eyes full of distrust. How beautiful will she look when she smiles while looking into my eyes? I know. I know too well.I’ve watched that angel.
I saw her smile like that today as well, but that smile was not for me, it was for Avi, when she was asking her what kind of man she wants to marry. My gut tightens again, the wild beating of my heart returns, the scorching heat crawling through my veins, searing my blood.
She replied that she wants some kindhearted, loving Russian guy.She doesn’t want me—I know this—but hearing it from her is unbearable.
I reach out, grab her waist, pull her towards me, lift her up, and settle her on my lap. She recovers from the shock immediately and pushes against me. I hug her tightly.
“Marry me, Angel.” I hadn’t thought much about it before, but today I realized how desperately I needed this to happen. I need her to be mine in every official and unofficial sense.
Her eyes widen, her protest freezes. She looks at me with disbelief. Then her face fills with anger. “Have you lost your mind, Matleon?”
“I think so.” She watches me, trying to figure out if I’m serious or not. I like to mess with her because it makes her watch me with such focus, and it satisfies me to a great extent. I’m serious, though. I’ve lost my mind. Zo believes it happened gradually over my teenage years, but can you trust someone’s judgment about losing one’s mind when he himself is insane? He’s so completely gone that he can’t even breathe when he can’t watch Avi, not in some romantic, metaphorical sense, it’s horribly real, to the point of dying.
“I’m not going to marry you,” she says, her molars clenched.
I lift one hand to her face, tracing my thumb along her clenched jaw. I can feel the hard bone beneath her soft skin and the cushioned layer of muscles.
“Why not?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
She grabs my hand and pulls it down her face. I place it back on her back. She knows her protest won’t get her anything, I will only let her go when Iwantto, so she isn’t even trying now. My Angel is smart.
“I hate you, Matleon. Do you not think that’s a good enough reason?” Her words are cold, but not enough to affect me.
“Not for me.I’m fine as long as I can make your heart race—” I move my hand up from her back toward her neck, pushing her into me, her soft breasts pressing against my chest. My dick hardens under her. “—whether from arousal or from anger,” I mutter.
Her face turns red, her breaths shallow. I want to kiss her pink lips, bite them, suck her tongue. I could do that very easily, she’s in my arms, close to me, but I won’t. Now is not the time for that.
I force myself to look up at her eyes, away from the temptation of her lips. I’m not a masochist, after all. But on second thought…maybe I am. That would explain why I’m enjoying the way she looks at my lips, even though it tortures my willpower, my thumping heart, and, most importantly, my aching dick.
“You want me to kiss you, Angel?”
She looks up into my eyes. For a second, I see arousal in the most beautiful blue eyes. More torture. More pleasure.
“I would rather kiss a rabid dog than you,” she snaps, annoyed, holding my gaze, but I’m sure about what I saw. If my eyes had a habit of seeing wrong, I would have been dead long ago.
