“I’m sorry,” I snap. “What?”
Yara fidgets with her long hair as her cheeks flush.
“Don’t make me repeat it.”
I speak again. “I think I misheard you.”
“It’s not uncommon for him,” she says, as she grows uncomfortable. “We’ve been sleeping together for close to five years.”
My eyes widen more, and I can’t help but place my hand over my mouth. “You win for most shocking confession, Yara.”
“Thank you?” she says, questioningly. “I guess.”
I shouldn’t have said that.
“How does this concern me?”
She stands, pacing the room. She moves to the open window and takes another deep breath. She slowly turns, and her eyes are filled with heavy tears.
I stand abruptly and walk to her. “I didn’t mean to react that way. It’s just shocking to think someone as stunning as you would sleep with someone like him.”
Shit, I shouldn’t have said that either.
“No,” she chuckles at that. “It’s not your reaction.”
I move her back to the chair and sit beside her on the couch this time.
“Malachi has always done this. Aerona is very much aware of the extra attention he requires. I think she appreciates someone else keeping him company in that way. Malachi is awful, I know, but he has a way of charming you to fall for him.”
Here comes the reaction again.
“You are in love with him?” I snap, louder than intended. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Yara reassures me once more. “After all these years, I’ve developed a sort of attachment to him, you might say. Whether it’s genuine or not, I question that every day.”
“Gods,” I mumble.
“He sometimes confides in me, and our relationship has grown quite a bit."
“Is he nice to you?” I can’t help but ask.
“He has his moments, but I would never put Malachi and nice in the same sentence,” Yara confesses. “But…”
She pauses, and I can’t help but lean in, impatiently waiting for her to continue, like this is the best gossip I’ve ever heard in my life.
A brief flash of doubt sits behind her large dark eyes.
“Every few years, Malachi picks a new…companion,” she says, cringing. “We all assume it’s because he tires of them. Lately, our conversations have felt less meaningful, and our meetings have become more…straight to business and uncomfortable, if you know what I mean.”
“I understand,” I respond, grimacing.
“It started when we were interrupted one evening. I was in Malachi’s study, where most of our meetings happened.”
“And?” I push.
“Silas walked in.”
“Oh, fuck,” I can’t help but blurt out. “When did this happen?”
