Page 35 of Toxic B!tch

Because Elle sees him. And the second she does, her blue eyes lock onto him like she’s got a goddamn sniper scope attached to her fake lashes.

I swear to fucking God.

She struts toward him, swaying her hips like some sultry predator about to sink her teeth into prey.Bitch, he's not prey. He's mine.

Her hand lands on his shoulder.

I’m already moving.

Not because I don’t trust Malik. But because if she hurts him again, if she so much as breathes the wrong way?—

I will make herhurt so bad, she won’t remember her own fucking name.

I slide a glass of ice water across the bar in front of her, my eyes never leaving Malik’s. I wink at him, a silentI got you, baby.

His lips twitch into a smirk, eyes dark with amusement.

Good. He knows I’m watching. He knows I’ll handle it.

I grab a pint glass and start making a drink for the couple next to him, pouring vodka, tequila, blue curaçao, mango juice, orange juice, lemon, and a squeeze of fresh orange. I’m focused. Professional. But my ears?

Locked in.

Elle giggles.Giggles.

"Baby, don’t be that way," she coos, voice dripping in fake sugar. "I’ve been searching for you. We had a connection. Buy me a drink and we’ll talk."

I swear, my grip on the bottle tightens just a little too much.

"No thanks." Malik’s voice is flat.

Elle pouts. "Oh, come on, I’m sorry, sexy."

"I don’t care." His tone sharpens, clipped and unforgiving. "Go find some other poor sap to manipulate and drain. I’m taken."

Oh, that’s when she loses it.

The mask slips.

Water splashes across Malik’s face, dripping down his shirt as Elle screeches.

"You ungrateful piece of shit!" she snarls. "A man like you should be fucking thankful a girl like me even let you spend money on her. You think you stood a chance with me? Please. You’re fat and gross, and that’s why I gave you a fake number. You really thought I wanted you?"

Malik doesn’t move.

Doesn’t flinch.

But his face?—

I see the flicker of hurt before he smothers it, locking it away behind that quiet, unbreakable exterior.

And that?

That’s when I lose it.

I’m over the bar before I consciously decide to move, vaulting it like it’s a goddamn backyard fence. I land lightly on my feet, walk up, tap Elle on the shoulder?—

And the second she turns?