KARIMA HEART
Minutes later, Malcom finally stepped out of the room—probably done sulking. I didn’t bother glancing his way. I just kept dishing out a bowl of spaghetti in the dining room like he wasn’t even there.
He pulled out a chair gently, as if tiptoeing around my mood. I held back a smirk. He was either stalling before apologizing, which would mean surrendering or trying to act cool until the silence broke him.
I slid a bowl of food and a glass of juice in front of him.
“Thank you,” he muttered.
And then, of course, Mr. Annoying strolled out of his room, hand-in-hand with Mrs. Sassy. My eyes narrowed as she clung to Owain’s arm like she couldn’t breathe without him.
Seriously, where did she think she was? A hotel suite? Or maybe Owain’s house, acting like she owned the place ju
