Malum: Part 1 (The Elite King's Club 4)

Easier said than done.

Nate

“Burbons and Lacs” by Master P is playing in the background, sweat dripping off my body. I crank the treadmill up to level thirteen, picking up my stride. We got back twenty minutes ago, and I have roughly thirty minutes before we leave and get my damn daughter back, but the shit with Tillie and Brantley has left a fucking sour taste in my mouth, which is precisely why I’m trying to exude some pent-up energy in here. It was either the treadmill or a full-on fight between Brantley and me, but that would only prove the fact that Tillie still owns a small part of me. A very irrational, deranged and wild part, but a part, nonetheless.

And then there’s the rest…

I hit the treadmill off and grab my water bottle, bringing the tip to my mouth just as the glass sliding door slides open and Tatum walks through. The gym’s wall is made up of glass with a direct view of the pool, the pool house opposite and the main kitchen with living area connecting off it to the right.

“What do you want?” I wrap my lips around the water bottle without taking my eyes off her.

She stumbles in closer, raking her long blonde hair out of her face. Tate has the whole girl next door look going on, but she fucks like the mom. “I—I—” she slurs, and it’s then that the smell of alcohol fills the gym, mixing with my sweat.

“Are you drunk?” I catch her as she falls into me. Her head comes up, her eyes catching mine.

“Nate. Why don’t you love me?”

Oh Jesus. I’ve always treaded carefully around Tate, because Madison will have my balls if I don’t, and if she’s not sucking on them, I’d rather she stays the fuck away from them, but as of late, keeping Tate at arm’s length has become more difficult. She’s gone from a cool chick who was down with fucking on the go, to a clingy stage five.

“Because I don’t do love, I told you that…” My arm wraps around her back to stabilize her.

She searches my eyes as they glass over. Fuck. She better not fucking cry, I can already feel Madison’s wrath. “You’re a liar, Nate Riverside,” she whispers through a broken voice.

“How am I a liar?” I reply. Gentle, gentle if I want to protect my genitals…

“Because I’ve seen the way you look at Tillie.”

The door to the gym opens. “—okay fine. We can—” Tillie stops, her eyes going from me to Tate who’s slumped in my arms, and then back to me again. “Never mind.” She walks out, slamming the door so hard that she basically bounces her jealousy between the bolts and hinges holding it together.

I growl, clenching my teeth, and then look back down to Tate.

She shrugs. “Oops.”

I let her go and she falls to the ground.

“Tate, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t stop this bullshit, I’ll stop caring about Madison’s little feelings where you’re concerned and treat you like the rest of the bitches who cling to my dick by their teeth…” I step forward, internally trying to calm myself down while fighting the urge not to run after the most stubborn chick I’ve ever known. “I’ll fucking tear them out.”

Her face falls, and I watch as emotions pass through her features, ending on sadness. “Just leave it alone, Tate. Tillie is your friend, too, or are you that blinded by my nine-inch cock that you can’t see that anymore?”

I leave, throwing my shirt over one shoulder and make my way out to find Tillie.

Tillie

I’m being irrational. I know this, really, I do. Ridge and I shared beds for years while I watched him bounce around others, and then come back to me and vice versa. It never bothered me—ever. I never experienced a throbbing pain pound against my belly to the beat of Eminem “Love the Way You Lie.” But right now, I feel like I’m about to light that match and burn every single inch of the walls inside my head that hold a memory of Nate.

Holy hell.

I run my fingers through my hair, grinding my teeth while pacing back and forth.

“It’s fine, Tillie. Cool your shit.”

My eyes go to the ground where Daemon’s book is. I dash for it, shoving it into a small overnight bag that I found in his closet. I don’t know why I feel a little fragile right now, but I don’t like it. I don’t like not being in control of my feelings, and that probably stems back to not being in control of my father and his temper when I was a small child.

I’m not touching that right now.

I toss in the clothes that Madison gave me and zip up. Did I really expect to stay here, living out of Madison’s shadow and not have a life? I have a daughter. I should be thinking about our life and what I’m going to do, but I can’t. My life is a fucking mess because of—I look around the room. This. I miss my baby more than I can say, but at the same time, I’m disappointed in myself for bringing her into this world. I don’t regret her existence, not one bit. There is nothing in this world that can spark every single emotion in my body but my daughter. And maybe the father… but I wish. I wish I had a better life to offer her.