The temptation of my brother-in-law-Chapter 78 - seventy eight

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Malachi’s POV

I was really bothered. Not by the lost child, though that situation needed handling. But by the way Alicia’s entire demeanor had shifted the moment that little girl tugged her skirt.

The lightness from moments ago, the carefree happiness I’d worked so hard to give her, had vanished. Replaced by worry. By that protective instinct that made her kneel down and comfort a stranger’s child without hesitation.

It bothered me because she was bothered. Because anything that dimmed that smile was my enemy.

I watched her hold the girl’s hand, murmuring reassurances. Watched the way she naturally fell into a caretaker role. The way she made the child feel safe.

She’d be an incredible mother someday. The thought came unbidden and settled in my chest with unexpected weight.

"Let’s go," I said, placing my hand on Alicia’s back. Guiding both her and the child toward the information center near the park entrance.

The booth attendant looked up as we approached. "Can I help you?"

"This child is lost," I said. "She needs help finding her mother."

The attendant’s expression immediately shifted to concern. "Of course. Sweetheart, what’s your name?"

"Lily," the girl said quietly, still clutching Alicia’s hand.

"And what does your mommy look like?"

Lily repeated the description she’d given Alicia. Tall. Blonde. Blue dress.

The attendant nodded and picked up a microphone. Her voice echoed through the park speakers. "Attention park guests. We have a lost child at the main information booth. Lily, age five, looking for her mother. Tall, blonde hair, wearing a blue dress. Please come to the information booth immediately."

Alicia knelt beside Lily again. "See? Your mommy will hear that and come find you."

"What if she doesn’t?" Lily’s eyes filled with fresh tears.

"She will. Mommies always find their babies. Always."

The conviction in Alicia’s voice made something twist in my chest. She believed that. Believed in mothers who didn’t abandon their children. Who fought to keep them safe.

Her own mother had been like that, from what little she’d told me. Protective until the very end.

I stood there watching Alicia comfort this child and felt that possessive surge again. Stronger this time. More certain.

This woman. This incredibly caring, protective, beautiful woman was mine. And I’d do whatever it took to keep her.

Minutes passed. They felt longer with Lily crying softly and Alicia trying to distract her with stories about Mr. Hopps the rabbit.

Then a woman came running. Blonde hair flying. Blue dress. Panic written across her face.

"Lily!"

"Mommy!" The little girl released Alicia’s hand and ran to her mother.

They collided in a tight embrace. The mother was crying now too. Relief and fear and love all mixed together.

"Thank god," the mother sobbed, holding her daughter close. "I turned around and you were gone. I’ve been looking everywhere."

"I’m sorry, Mommy. I just wanted to see the balloons."

"It’s okay. You’re okay. That’s all that matters." The mother looked up at us with tears streaming down her face. "Thank you. Thank you so much for staying with her."

"Of course," Alicia said softly. "We couldn’t just leave her alone."

The mother studied us for a moment. At the way I stood close to Alicia. At the way my hand naturally found her waist. At the way we moved as a unit.

She smiled through her tears. "You two make a beautiful couple. I’m sure you’ll have your own beautiful daughter someday soon."

Alicia opened her mouth. I could see the denial forming. See her about to explain that we weren’t actually a couple. That this was complicated and messy and not what it looked like.

I squeezed her waist gently. A silent signal. Don’t.

She glanced at me, confused, but stayed quiet.

"Thank you," I said to the mother. "Take care of her."

"I will. Thank you again." She took Lily’s hand and they walked away. The little girl turned back once to wave at Alicia, who waved back with a soft smile.

We stood there for a moment after they left. The noise of the park continuing around us. People laughing. Children playing. Life moving forward.

Alicia pulled away slightly and looked up at me. "Why didn’t you let me tell her we’re not a couple?"

"Aren’t we?"

"Malachi—"

"You’re mine. I’m yours. We spend our time together. We share intimacy. We care about each other." I tilted her chin up. "What part of that isn’t a couple?"

"The part where I’m married to your brother."

"A technicality."

"It’s not a technicality. It’s a legal binding contract."

"Contracts can be broken."

She stared at me. I could see the wheels turning in her head. The fear warring with hope. The careful walls she’d built starting to crack.

"Are you saying—"

"I’m saying we are a couple. Whether you want to admit it or not. Whether it’s convenient or not. Whether this family approves or not." I stepped closer. "You’re mine, Alicia. And I don’t share."

She looked away, overwhelmed. "I’m tired. Can we just go home?"

Home. She’d called the mansion home. When just hours ago she’d called it a prison.

But I didn’t push. Didn’t force her to acknowledge what was growing between us. She needed time. Space to process.

I could give her that. For now.

"Of course. Let’s go."

We walked back to the car in silence. She still held Mr. Hopps. Still had that photo strip in her purse. Physical reminders of this day. Of us.

The drive back was quieter than the drive there. The playful energy had shifted into something more contemplative. More weighted.

I kept glancing at her. At the way she stared out the window. At the small furrow between her brows.

She was thinking. Probably about what I’d said. About us being a couple. About what that meant for her future. For Sophie. For everything.

Let her think. Let her work through it. Because the conclusion was inevitable.

She was mine. I was hers. And nothing, not Travis, not this family, not legal contracts or social expectations, would change that.

When we pulled up to the mansion, she hesitated before getting out.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For today. For the park. For everything."

"You don’t need to thank me."

"I do though. Because no one’s ever—" She stopped. Took a breath. "No one’s ever made me feel like this. Like I matter. Like I’m worth the effort."

The words gutted me. This incredible woman who thought she wasn’t worth effort. Who’d been treated like she was disposable for so long she’d started to believe it.

"You’re worth everything, little bird. Everything."

She looked at me with those eyes that held too much pain. Too much history. But also hope. Small and fragile but there.

"I should go in before someone sees us together and starts asking questions."

"Let them ask. I don’t care."

"But I do. For now. Please."

For now. Those two words gave me hope. Implied there’d be a time when she wouldn’t care. When she’d stand beside me openly.

I could wait for that. Could be patient.

"Go. I’ll follow in a few minutes."

She nodded and got out of the car. Clutching her stuffed rabbit. Carrying the memories of our day.

I watched her walk into that mansion. Into that prison she was learning to escape from.

And I made another silent vow.

Soon, she wouldn’t have to hide. Wouldn’t have to sneak around or worry about being seen with me.

Soon, I’d destroy every obstacle between us.

Starting with Travis.

And ending with anyone else foolish enough to try to keep us apart.

She was mine. And I protected what was mine.

Always.