The temptation of my brother-in-law-Chapter 117 - One Hundred and Seventeen

Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen

Malachi’s POV

I was looking for Sophie.

She’d disappeared after lunch. Said something about wanting to explore the mansion. But that was two hours ago and no one had seen her since.

I checked the library. The game room. The conservatory. Nothing.

The mansion was massive. Endless hallways and rooms I’d never been in. I took a turn down an unfamiliar corridor. Tried a few doors. Most were locked.

One opened.

I stepped inside. It was a smaller room. Cozy. Lined with bookshelves and comfortable chairs. But what caught my attention were the walls.

Pictures. Dozens of them. All framed. All carefully arranged.

Family photos spanning decades.

I moved closer. Started looking at them one by one.

There was Pa Wood. Younger. But still with that commanding presence. That sharp look in his eyes.

There were the children. Malachi. Travis. Sophie when she was tiny. Others I didn’t recognize. Cousins probably.

But one thing was immediately obvious. In every single picture, there was one child who wasn’t smiling.

Malachi.

Even as a kid, he had that serious expression. That guarded look. While Travis grinned at the camera. While the other children laughed and played. Malachi just stared. Like he was already carrying the weight of the world.

What had made him that way? What had happened to turn a child into someone so closed off?

I kept looking. Found more recent photos. Teenagers now. Travis still smiling. Still carefree. Malachi still serious.

Then I found one that made my heart drop.

Pa Wood stood in the center. Malachi on one side. Travis on the other. And between Malachi and Pa Wood was a girl.

She was beautiful. Dark hair. Bright smile. And she was holding Malachi’s hand.

Even as kids, they were holding hands.

I leaned closer. Looked at the way Malachi was looking at her. Not at the camera. At her. With something soft in his expression. Something I’d never seen before.

Emily.

It had to be. The woman everyone loved. The one whose death had devastated the family. The one whose name was still spoken with reverence.

Had they dated? Had Malachi loved her?

The thought made something ugly twist in my chest. Jealousy. Of a dead woman. How pathetic.

I looked at more pictures. Emily appeared in so many of them. Always smiling. Always surrounded by people. Always holding someone’s hand or hugging someone or laughing.

The family had loved her. Still loved her.

And Malachi. In every picture with Emily, he looked different. Softer. Happier. More alive.

I wondered if he still loved her. If that’s why he kept everyone at a distance now. Because he’d lost the one person who mattered.

Another thing I noticed. In all these pictures. All these family moments. There were no parents.

No Tom and Layla in the early photos. No Mario and Isabella with their children. Just Pa Wood. Always Pa Wood. With all the grandchildren gathered around him.

Where were their parents? Why was Pa Wood raising them?

"Looking for something?"

I spun around. Malachi was standing in the doorway. His expression unreadable.

"I was looking for Sophie. Got lost."

"Sophie’s in the game room. Has been for the last hour."

"Oh."

He stepped into the room. Closed the door behind him. "But that’s not why you’re still here."

"I was just looking at the pictures."

"I can see that."

He moved closer. Stood beside me. Looked at the wall of photos.

"Cute kids," I said. Trying to sound casual. Like my heart wasn’t racing.

"We weren’t cute. We were trouble."

"Travis looks happy."

"Travis was always happy. Even when he shouldn’t have been."

"And you?"

"I was realistic."

I looked at the photo of him and Emily again. "Who’s the girl?"

His jaw tightened. "Emily."

"She’s beautiful."

"She was."

"Were you two together?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity."

"Dangerous thing. Curiosity."

"So were you?"

"We were friends. Close friends. Everyone assumed we’d end up together eventually."

"Did you assume that too?"

He turned to look at me. His dark eyes intense. "Does it matter?"

"I don’t know. Does it?"

"She’s dead, Alicia. Has been for years. Whatever I felt for her doesn’t matter anymore."

But it did matter. I could see it in his face. Hear it in his voice. Emily had mattered. Still mattered.

"You loved her," I said.

"I cared about her. We all did."

"That’s not what I asked."

He stepped closer. Too close. I could smell him. Could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Why are you really asking? Why do you care if I loved someone who died years ago?"

Because I’m jealous. Because I want to know if you’re capable of loving someone. Because I want to know if you could love me.

I didn’t say any of that.

"I don’t care. I was just curious."

"Liar."

"Excuse me?"

"You care. I can see it in your face. You’re jealous."

"I’m not jealous of a dead woman."

"Aren’t you?"

He was right. God, he was right. And I hated it.

"This is ridiculous. I should go."

I moved toward the door. He blocked my path.

"Malachi. Move."

"Not until you answer me. Why do you care?"

"I don’t."

"Then why are your hands shaking?"

I looked down. He was right. My hands were trembling.

"Let me go."

"Not yet."

"This is insane. We can’t keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"This. Whatever this is. Standing too close. Asking questions we shouldn’t ask. Wanting things we can’t have."

"Who says we can’t have them?"

"Reality. Common sense. The fact that you’re with Cecilia and I’m married to your brother."

"And if those things weren’t true? If we were free?"

"But we’re not."

"But if we were."

I looked up at him. Saw the want in his eyes. The hunger. The same thing burning inside me.

"It doesn’t matter. We’re not free. We’re trapped. Both of us."

"Then let’s be trapped together."

His hand came up. Cupped my face. His thumb traced my cheekbone.

I should have pulled away. Should have reminded him about Cecilia. About Travis. About all the reasons this was wrong.

I didn’t.

"This is a mistake," I whispered.

"Probably."

"We’ll regret it."

"Maybe."

"Malachi."

His name came out like a plea. I didn’t even know what I was asking for. For him to stop. For him to continue. For him to make the decision so I didn’t have to.

He leaned down. His forehead touched mine. "Tell me to stop."

"I can’t."

"Then tell me to continue."

"I can’t do that either."

"Alicia. I need to hear you say it. Need to know you want this as much as I do."

I closed my eyes. Tried to find the strength to walk away. To do the right thing.

I couldn’t find it.

"I want this," I whispered. "God help me, I want this."

That was all he needed.

His mouth crashed against mine. Hard. Desperate. Like he’d been holding back for too long and couldn’t anymore.

I kissed him back with the same desperation. My hands fisted in his shirt. Pulled him closer.

This was wrong. So wrong. But it felt more right than anything had in years.

His hands moved to my waist. Lifted me. My back hit the wall beside the photos. The same wall covered in family memories and the ghost of Emily.

I didn’t care.

All I cared about was this. Him. The way he was kissing me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

His hand slid under my shirt. Found bare skin. I gasped against his mouth.

"Malachi," I breathed.

"Say it again."

"Malachi."

His mouth moved to my neck. My collarbone. Lower.

"Fuck,"

He whispered against my bare skin.