Rosie clung to Malik’s side, her fingers curling into his sleeve as if I might rip her away. Perhaps he’d told her the truth—that Roman and I knew we were her parents in a past life.
Malik’s eyes pierced through me. “Olivia’s upset, Rosie,” he murmured. “And I told you—she won’t take you away from me. Right, Olivia?”
A challenge. A plea. A test.
I held his gaze, the span history pressing between us.
“Yes, of course,” I said, slowing my heart. “Malik is your daddy, Rosie. But you and I can be friends, right?”
She nodded, her small shoulders easing.
Malik dabbed his lips with a napkin. “So, why have you stormed into my home looking like your skirt might be on fire? I assure you, there are no flames.”
“Oh, but there soon might be,” I shot back. “My dagger is missing.”
Both of Malik’s dark brows lifted. “I haven’t seen it here. Just your gun.”
He placed his napkin beside his plate.
“Maybe you missed it,” I said, wringing my hands.
Malik’s gaze narrowed. “I assure you, I don’t ‘miss’ objects of significant importance, Olivia.” He pushed back his chair and rose.
Roman entered the dining room, his presence grounding me. He and Malik exchanged a brief nod.
“Where else could it be?” Malik asked.
I exhaled hard, my shoulders sagging. “Costa’s.”
Malik let out a low whistle. “Oh, dear. That might be a problem. How exactly did that happen?”
Roman grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Olivia pulled her knife on me at the party. I fooled her into thinking I was a stranger seeking her… favor.”
Malik threw back his head and laughed. “Good one, brother!”
“It’s not good, Malik,” I snapped, flames of impatient rage licking my insides. “It’s not good.”
Malik smothered his amusement, though mischief still glimmered in his eyes. “I’m not making light of the loss, Olivia. Just your remarkable ability to resort to violence at a sex party.”
He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of Rosie’s head. “Can you fetch the wooden puzzle I got for you? Once Roman and Olivia have departed, we’ll put it together.”
Rosie nodded and scrambled off her chair.
As she disappeared, Malik steepled his fingers beneath his chin, his expression turning serious. “You realize, without your dagger, you’re stuck in this time, right?”
I threw up my hands. “Just say it, Malik. Without my dagger, I’m fucked!” I stabbed the air for emphasis. “What if it’s destroyed?”
He closed his eyes as if drawing on some unseen force. When he opened them, they were unreadable. “That would be a problem, yes. But I don’t think that it is.”
I rushed forward, gripping the edge of the table. “Can you see it? Do you know where it is? How can you be sure? Tell me!”
“I can’t see it,” Malik admitted, smoothing a napkin between his fingers. “But I know it hasn’t been destroyed. It can’t be. No matter what’s done to it, your dagger cannot be harmed or burned. It’s a magical, mystical weapon.”
I turned to Roman, my pulse hammering. “We have to go to Costa’s.”
He nodded, but before either of us could move, Malik interjected.
“You can’t just storm into Costa’s in that state. Some of his men arestill alive. If they see you, and worse, recognize what you are, you don’t want to be discovered as a Timeborne.”
