Something inside me exploded.
I snatched a silver spoon from the table and flung it across the room.
It missed him, clattering against the floor with a tinny clang, as I bolted to my feet.
“If you’re not going to fucking give me answers, I’m leaving.”
I barely saw him move.
One moment, he was across the table.
The next?—
He was in front of me.
His fingers wrapped around my throat.
Emily let out a small, whimpering gasp.
I sucked in a breath, my pulse thundering beneath Malik’s grip.
Had I pushed him too far?
A yelp escaped me as I seized his wrists, instinctively trying to pry him away.
His hold wasn’t suffocating, but it was firm.
“You will not use such filthy words in front of a child,” he said, his voice low, not loud, not cruel, but brimming with authority.
The words ricocheted through my body like a pinball, knocking something loose.
He was right.
I should be better. I should set an example for Rosie, not behaving like a petulant child.
Guilt settled like a stone in my stomach.
Tears stung my eyes. I was so tired of crying, of feeling like I was constantly losing my footing, like there was no safe place to land.
My chin quivered.
Great. Now I was acting like an infant.
I forced the emotion down, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I apologize.”
Malik’s jaw tensed. “I don’t need your apology.” His grip tightened slightly, just enough to remind me of his control. “Rosie does.”
I blinked up at him. Oh.
“It would help if you released my neck,” I murmured.
His thumbs moved—not in anger or punishment, but in that same maddening caress he had done the night before.
A shiver coursed down my spine.
Then, in a soft, lethal whisper, “Apologize.”
I inhaled shakily. “Rosie, I’m sorry I used a crass word.”
