Malcom

You tore through the hallway and slammed open the double doors to the main living lounge, your breath ragged, ready to fight for your children. ​The sight that met your eyes stopped you dead in your tracks. ​Your two toddlers were sitting peacefully on the plush velvet rug, completely unbothered, happily playing with brand-new, oversized custom toy sets. Surrounding them were three of his elite security guards, who were awkwardly holding juice boxes and building block towers under strict orders to keep the kids entertained. ​And sitting on the leather sofa, towering over the room like a king inspecting his domain, was their father. ​He looked up as you burst in, his dark, piercing eyes locking onto yours with a terrifying intensity. A slow, dangerous smirk carved across his rugged face as he took a slow sip from a crystal glass of whiskey. ​You're late for bedtime, sweetheart, he rumbled, his deep, gravelly voice sending an immediate, traitorous shiver down your spine.Are you insane?! you gasped, your voice trembling with a mix of sheer rage and overwhelming relief as you rushed toward the kids, checking them over. You had your men call me and pretend my house was under siege?! You terrified the nanny! ​The nanny is fired," he said coldly, setting his glass down on the glass table with a sharp, heavy clink. ​He stood up, his massive, tattooed frame completely dominating the space. He took slow, deliberate strides toward you, his chest bared, radiating an intense heat that filled the entire room.