Arrogantly Obsessed: Those Malcolm Boys Book 3

by KL Donn

  Arrogantly Obsessed

  Those Malcolm Boys Book 3

  KL Donn

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Prologue

  1. Delilah

  2. Delilah

  3. Delilah

  4. Crew

  5. Delilah

  6. Crew

  7. Delilah

  8. Delilah

  9. Crew

  10. Crew

  Epilogue

  What’s next?

  Distort

  Obsessive Addiction

  Accidental Obsession

  About the Author

  Also by KL Donn

  Copyright © 2021 by KL Donn

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editing – KA Matthews

  Cover Design & Formatting – Alluring Write Productions

  Photographer – Eric McKinney

  Model – Jimmy B

  Created with Vellum

  Synopsis

  From USA Today Bestselling Author KL Donn comes the third standalone book in the Those Malcolm Boys series.

  I am Crew Malcolm,

  And I take. What’s. Mine.

  Creating beauty from nothing is easy;

  Leaving it behind is the hard part.

  Finding it and knowing I can’t have it is disastrous.

  Delilah Henderson is the epitome of off-limits.

  She’s a hard no. Don’t touch,

  But I can’t help it.

  She’s wild and free.

  She’s beauty and tragedy,

  But her life has come back to bite her in the ass.

  I am Crew Malcolm.

  Through the secrets, the torment, and the pain,

  I take what’s mine.

  Hope rises like a phoenix from the ashes of shattered dreams.

  Never give up,

  XOXO

  Prologue

  * BREAKING NEWS * BREAKING NEWS * BREAKING NEWS *

  * * *

  “I’m Lindy Swartz, an–… I’ve just been informed that Crew Malcolm, the oldest in the Malcolm dynasty, is missing, along with nineteen-year-old Delilah Henderson. Delilah is the only daughter of incarcerated serial killer Oliver Henderson, the infamous Eighth Avenue Killer from Miami, Florida. Henderson was arrested and convicted of thirteen counts of first-degree murder eight years ago, agreeing to a plea deal only because of the media attacks on Delilah.

  I guess we’ll see what kind of trouble the oldest, and last, Malcolm child has gotten himself into soon.

  With Channel 44 News, I’m Lindy Swartz.”

  Chapter 1

  Delilah

  “Daddy? What happened? Why is there so much blood?” It’s terrifying watching my only living parent storm through the house with blood splattered across his chest, neck, and face.

  “Please, Daddy, what happened?” I plead, but he won’t look at me.

  Banging on the front door startles me into dropping my dinner plate. The shattering dish is followed up with the front door being kicked in and a dozen police officers piling into our tiny house.

  “Oliver Henderson, on your knees!” someone screams.

  “I’m sorry, princess,” I hear him murmur before cold steel presses at my throat, and we’re slowly faltering backwards. “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll kill her.” I hear the words, but they don’t register.

  “Put the weapon down and let the girl go,” a stern voice calls out.

  “Daddy?” I cry. Even if my eleven-year-old brain can’t understand what’s happening, my intuition has picked up on it. “Daddy, please. You’re hurting me.” I can feel what I now understand is a knife digging into my flesh.

  Lifting my fingers to touch what shouldn’t be real, they come away stained in blood.

  My blood.

  “Please don’t kill me, Daddy,” are the last words I say before the blade digs deeper, and I can feel the blood draining from the wound in my neck.

  “Oh god.” I gasp for breath that isn’t forthcoming as I sit up in bed. It’s always the same nightmare. The one where my father nearly kills me to get away.

  The one where I realize I mean nothing to him.

  The terror has recurred every night since I turned eighteen nearly two years ago. The day my sperm donor made first contact with me in almost seven years. Since the night he tried to kill me to gain his freedom.

  Touching the scar on my throat, I remember the feel of the sharp metal blade as it cut through my flesh. I don’t recall a lot after that. There were bright lights, a lot of yelling, and more agony than I’ve ever known. Both physically and mentally.

  After my mother passed away when I was six, my father and I were all we had. It was always us against the world.

  As it turns out, he was all about killing pretty blonde girls.

  Like me.

  I didn’t know it back then, but as I grew older and researched more about him, I discovered that all the girls resembled me in some way or another. And because we had no other family, I was left to the foster system. Child protective services wouldn’t allow him to have contact with me, so I was never able to ask the questions that often left me haunted at night. The only question I asked him when he called two years ago was if they were surrogates for me.

  He couldn’t or maybe wouldn’t answer me.

  I hung up less than a minute later.

  Now, I still have dozens of questions, but I’ll never get the answers because I can’t bear to visit him, let alone speak to him. As soon as I was old enough, I moved away from Florida to Charleston, South Carolina. My mom grew up here, and it’s all I have left of her.

  Until six months ago, I bounced around between a lot of different jobs. My only steady stream of income was a home-based business I started for fun. Something to occupy my mind on the lonely nights because not only did my father steal my youth, he also washed away any ounce of trust in humanity I had as well.

  Delilah’s Raw Soaps took off almost immediately. I make organic soaps, bath bombs, candles, bath salts, and I’m learning to make lotions. Since I started working as an assistant for Crew Malcolm at Malcolm’s Restorations six months ago, I’ve spent a lot of time with the clients’ wives, which has given me an added customer base because he works with a lot of wealthy people. Eventually, I want to have a store front, become a legitimate business owner, and not just something I do on the side in my spare time.

  Crew and his team tease me about the name often, and until they spotlighted it, I hadn’t realized how dirty the word raw could be. They do it for fun, and if I pout, they usually buy something, making the hassling worthwhile. Crew, though, he’s six and a half feet of cocky, playboy, asshole attitude that never fails to make my stomach flutter in his presence.

  We don’t talk a lot outside of business because he intimidates me, and I know far more about his personal life than I like. As his assistant, he asks me more often than not to make reservations for his dates or send flowers or whatever. You would think that would deter me from crushing on my boss; it doesn’t. I’m a masochist in that way, I suppose.

  Staring across the room, I dread getting up and going into the office. I can see the rain pouring outside just as a clap of thunder rolls through the sky. Today is the kind of day I would spend making all sorts of goodies. Instead, I have a meeting to host with Crew and a new client.

  Going through my morning ritual of a shower, doing my hair and makeup, and getting dresse
d before grabbing a muffin for breakfast and sample basket for the client, I pop up my umbrella before rushing out the door to my car. The umbrella helps nothing, I’m still wet, and I don’t have time to change. Grinding my teeth, I put the car in reverse and head to the office twenty minutes away.

  After only stopping for coffee, I make it there in record time. Stepping out of my car, useless umbrella at the ready, I don’t get a foot before someone drives past me, through a puddle, and soaks what dignity I have left.

  “I’m going to kill someone today,” I mutter as I rush up into the old Victorian-style office building Crew owns, glaring at the culprit as I pass him.

  Crew fucking Malcolm.

  “Sorry, Li!” His shit-eating grin isn’t the least bit apologetic as his eyes roam my body. “Got to see you in the raw finally.” Ignoring him, I unlock the building and enter the foyer, allowing the door to slam shut in his face. There’s no remorse when I hear him curse.

  Slipping into my office, I place the basket down on my desk and hang my umbrella to dry on the door before kicking off my shoes and dropping my coat on the floor. Opening the small closet door, I grab a dress I keep in here for such occasions as this and begin stripping in a rush. I don’t know what I’m going to do with my hair. I’ll just have to wash my makeup off at this point as I’m sure I look like I should be celebrating Halloween.

  “Hey! You didn’t have to slam the damn doo–. Holy fuck.” My entire body freezes as Crew barges into my office. “What the fuck is this?” I know what he sees. I can’t really hide it when my naked back and thighs are facing him.

  “Get out,” I hiss instead of answering him. He doesn’t get to infringe on the personal side of my life. Not more than I’m willing to share anyways.

  “Not a fucking chance, Delilah.” I can’t stop the shiver as it works up my spine with how he says my name. Flinching when I feel his finger graze across, first, one scar, then another, and more after that. The spell is broken when he touches the deeper ones on the backs of my thighs. “What is this?” he asks again.

  Swatting his hands away, I finish putting my dress on. Zipping up the side, I slip into a matching pair of black pumps and close the closet, ignoring him as I set about cleaning up the mess I made. I can’t bring myself to look at him. To see the pity in his eyes.

  Crew

  * * *

  Growing up with two younger brothers, I’ve learned to read people fairly quickly. I’ve always thought I was a good judge of character. Delilah has appeared shy from the first time I flashed a smile her way. She doesn’t talk about her personal life, and now that I’ve seen her nearly nude, I think I understand why. I lost count of the scars, tiny and large, on her back and thighs after thirty.

  “I’m not going to let this go, Li.” She hates the nickname I gave her after the first time I saw her blush when I called her by it.

  “It’s not your concern, Mr. Malcolm.” I fucking hate when she calls me that. Over the past six months, I’ve done everything possible to get under her skin, and nothing works. My attraction to Delilah was instant and unshakable. It’s why I hired her. I knew she wouldn’t say yes to a date six months ago; she was too skittish. I thought I could convince her as time went on, but she barely acknowledges my existence. So then I started dating and rubbing it in her face by having her make reservations for dinners and sending flowers to girls that I don’t even recall their names after taking them home.

  Still nothing from my closed-up assistant.

  I won’t give up, though. Delilah is too special to lose.

  “It’s damn well my concern. You look like someone took a fucking cheese grater to your skin.” I regret the words instantly as I see her spine straighten.

  “Nice description,” is all she mutters, and my frustration with the stubborn woman grows to infuriate proportions.

  “The Coles will be here in five minutes. Will you be presentable?” Fuck. I just keep digging my goddamned grave.

  Prepared for her fury when she finally turns to face me, all I see is a deep-seated sadness that I want to wash away as easily as the rain does dirt. “I’ll be ready. I just need to wash up.”

  Once again dismissed, I watch her as she leaves for her private bathroom. This room was my office before I hired her. I gave it up the same day so she’d have everything I could possibly give her in that moment. I use another room about the same size but without the private bathroom and closet. I even tore down a wall when she grew frustrated with not being more accessible to clients and employees. She now has two huge French doors to close her in when needed instead of one slab of drywall.

  Leaving her office, I open up the curtains in the front of the building and put on fresh coffee before propping open the front door. When I built this place, I envisioned it being open and airy. Lots of natural light and not many walls. While the outside appears as an old Victorian house, the inside reads like office space in any firm in the country.

  The first floor holds Delilah’s office up front with mine beside it. Two meeting rooms and a guest area with a small kitchen and washroom. Upstairs is the employee-only site where my guys go to unwind when we’re in the office. There’s a warehouse out back for supplies and a garage next to it for vehicles and equipment. We also have a half-acre lot for anything else that doesn’t fit in the warehouse or garage. Right now, it’s filled with bricks, lumber, and two portable offices for job sites.

  Iron gates line the property with four feet of barbwire overhang to keep thieves out. With security offsite, we have more than a dozen cameras around the property. In the ten years I’ve owned this piece of land, I’ve only had one problem.

  As the rain begins to slow down, more of my crew begins to show up, and right on time, so do the Coles. Delilah is almost immediately at my side with a smile on her face and the scent of one of her raw soaps.

  “It should be illegal to smell so fucking good,” I whisper to her.

  Seeming to ignore my comment, I notice the slight blush coloring her pale flesh before she steps forward with a ready smile and handshake as she greets the Coles. The meeting is quick, and I’m so focused on Delilah that she does most of the talking and answering of questions. She’s good like that, knowing as much as possible about the business. My phoenix can answer almost anything.

  Watching her run my business is like magic. She puts the clients at ease when I get arrogant about my skills or prickly about so many inquiries. Or, like now, when I pretty much ignore them altogether. But the Coles leave smiling after signing a contract to restore their old mansion. It’s my specialty. Bringing back to life what was once old and forgotten, and I’m damn good at it.

  After the Coles leave, Delilah does everything she can to avoid me. Cleaning the already pristine kitchen and counters, checking stock of what’s in the cupboards and fridge. Her phone. The time. She’s doing anything but looking at me, and it’s getting on my fucking nerves, which isn’t good for my temper or my mouth.

  “I’m still going to be here when you’re finished, little phoenix. I ain’t got nothing better to do today.” Watching as she places her palms on the counter and inhales deeply before spinning to face me with fire in her beautiful eyes, I prepare myself.

  “Phoenix?” She glares back at me. “What is it you want to know so badly, Crew? You think you can somehow magically fix what’s been broken? I’m fine. What you saw isn’t your concern, and I’d like to keep it that way.” Through the vulnerability in her tone, my mind is still stuck on the way she said my name. For the first time.

  And I want to hear many, many more times in the very near future.

  “You’re like a phoenix rising from the ashes and whatever hell was in your past.” I allow the words to sink in before saying anything more. “I don’t think I can fix you, Delilah, because you’re not fucking broken. You’re the most put-together person I know. What I want is the smallest glimpse into your life. I’ve been patient as hell, waiting until I thought you could handle me, and now I know you damn well c
an. Give me an inch, Li. You won’t regret it.” Her jaw ticks in that sexy way when she’s about to blast me, and she does not disappoint.

  “You’re so damn arrogant, Crew!” Her hands drop to her hips as she gears up to fight with me. I take slow steps forward as she continues to yell. “You think because you’re rich and own this place and everyone bows down to you, that you can get whatever you want. I’m not some prize. I just want to have a quiet life.” Her anger fades the closer I get, and I can see her breathing pick up pace.

  Closing the gap between us, I lean down, enjoying the way I tower over her. It’s some masochistic shit in my DNA that makes it so that I love how much smaller than me she is. My damn brothers are the same with their wives.

  Brushing my nose along the column of her throat, I lay a light kiss on her fluttering pulse, quickly becoming addicted to the hiccup she tries so valiantly to hide. “You’re wrong, Li. So fucking wrong.”

  “About what?” she breathes against my ear.

  “You are a prize. The best fucking one I’ll ever receive.” I don’t let her respond as I place my lips over hers, dragging her body nearer until we’re as close as two people can get without being inside of her.

  Her hands immediately go to my chest, balling my shirt in her delicate fists. I can feel the tug of war happening inside of her. She thinks she needs to push me away when what she wants is to pull me closer.

  Chapter 2