Accepted Hearts

Chapter 11 / Temporary

Chapter Eleven
Temporary

What the fuck is wrong with Olivia?

That was all Malia could think of as she tried to contain the anger she felt bubbling within her. Her eyes stood steady down the hall, waiting for Olivia's call to end and for the curly haired girl to emerge.

She couldn't believe she'd left out the extremely important detail that this apartment wasn't hers. Malia felt like an idiot for even thinking for one second that something like this—finding a place with someone she could actually have seen herself living with—could've been true.

Olivia gave her hope, false fucking hope, and now Malia would have to walk out of here and go back to Carrington Manor with the knowledge that she was so close to escaping, only to realize she'd never truly be set free.

She swallowed hard, tightening her crossed arms around herself, as if they were holding her together. And truthfully, as the familiar feeling of helplessness flowed through her, she began to feel as if her arms were all that was keeping her upright.

She was upset, angry, sad, and even humiliated—both for believing something this good could be true and for the way she had talked to the man standing on the other side of the room.

Malia couldn't even manage to bring her eyes over to him. Other than the fact that he'd clearly mistook her for a fucking prostitute when he first walked in, she had went on to make a complete fool out of herself by so confidently claiming this apartment as her own and demanding an answer as to why he was there.

It didn't help that he was really good looking, either.

No, good looking wasn't even the right word. In a weird way, even handsome didn't seem to do him justice. There was something ruggedly handsome about him, due to his broad shoulders, impressive height, and sharp jawline, but his full lips, pale green eyes framed by lashes that were even longer than hers, and his slightly curled hair that fell to his forehead made her rethink a proper word for him.

She would've gone as far as to call him beautiful—though that was a word she hadn't really used to describe a guy before, and yet, that seemed to be the only one that suited him.

It felt wrong to react to him this way. Other than the fact that she was Malia fucking Carrington, meaning she didn't fawn over anybody—she let others do that over her.

But there was also the fact that she had no idea who he was, and this was clearly his apartment, and he knew Olivia. He'd just asked her if she was the one that brought her here. There was a good chance this guy was either Olivia's non-boyfriend or her brother. Both options clearly meant she couldn't be attracted to him.

This wasn't the time to find anyone attractive, anyway. She'd just had the rug ripped out from under her—quite literally—and she needed to speak with Olivia.

And with the way this guy was clenching his jaw and turning toward the hallway, it was clear he needed to speak with her, too.

The second the door opened, both Malia and the guy stepped forward, both seeming ready to attack Olivia the second she walked into the room.

"Sorry about that. False booty call," came Olivia's voice, followed by a short giggle, and then she turned the corner, entering the living room. "Oh, fuck."

"False booty call?" the guy repeated, somehow looking even angrier than he was two seconds ago.

Malia watched as Olivia gulped, looking more and more nervous as the seconds ticked by.

Judging by the words Olivia said as she came in, the guy's reply, and Olivia's reaction, Malia assumed it was her non-boyfriend who called, which meant this was her brother standing here now. This was his apartment.