Secrets and Sins: Malachim (A Secrets and Sins Novel) (Entangled Ignite) by Naima Simone Page A

unprecedented. Christopher didn’t do “I just stopped by to see how you were doing.” Not once in thirty-five years had Christopher given a rat’s ass about his son’s welfare. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He’d enjoyed when Malachim messed up—the rare detention after school, the occasional blowing of curfew. Those opportunities had hand-delivered Christopher opportunities to ridicule and punish.
    As a hurt, confused child and angry teen, Malachim hadn’t formed adequate armor against Christopher’s verbal attacks. But now, as an adult and successful attorney well-versed in the game of words, Malachim had developed into more than a fair adversary for his father.
    “What did I do to warrant this—” Malachim twisted his mouth into an insincere smile “—pleasure?”
    “I was headed to a business lunch when I remembered your mother’s birthday dinner next week. I thought I’d stop by and remind you,” he said.
    “Phones aren’t working?” Malachim asked, not accepting Christopher’s explanation for one nanosecond. If it were up to his father, only one son would be present in his home—Christopher Raymond Jerrod IV, the heir apparent. Unfortunately, Chris detested them all—father, mother, and brother—so instead of subjecting himself to family affairs, Malachim’s brother had opted to move out of the country and make his living as an attorney in England. Malachim silently snorted. As far as excuses went for not being able to attend family functions, they didn’t get much better than a long-distance, transatlantic commute.
    Unfortunately, his mother and three best friends resided in Boston, and he couldn’t abandon them. Didn’t want to. Gabe, Rafe, and Chay—they were the anchors who kept him grounded when he wanted to go ape-shit and do something crazy.
    Like patricide.
    “I decided in favor of the personal touch,” Christopher clarified, then tsked , shaking his head. “You’re so suspicious and…tense. But then I can understand why,” his father drawled. “With this entire sordid affair involving Chayot Gray and Richard Pierce. I warned your mother years ago that her association with those women would result in trouble. She didn’t listen then, but now…”
    Malachim stiffened. He didn’t doubt Christopher had inundated his mother with I-told-you-so’s since the truth about Richard’s murder had been revealed. Pamela Jerrod yielded to her husband’s orders and mandates in most things, but not when it came to her friendship with Chay’s, Gabe’s, and Rafe’s mothers. No matter how loud and vehemently Christopher objected, Pam had maintained her relationship with the three women who were her best friends. And she was fiercely protective of the three boys she considered nephews.
    Mothers and sons shared bonds nothing, not even Christopher’s cold disapproval, could sever. Keeping her friendship with the three women was the only act of defiance Malachim had personally witnessed from his mother. Even when it came to her own son. As a child, she’d wiped his tears after Christopher’s diatribes, had comforted and encouraged him after Christopher’s rejections…but she’d stayed with her husband. Once, when Malachim was fourteen, he’d asked her why she stayed with a man who hated her son so much. She hadn’t answered, just drew him close and hugged him. And after she’d pulled away, and he’d glimpsed the tears in her eyes, he hadn’t questioned her again. As an adult, he could guess at her reasons. Duty. Stability. Fear… Guilt.
    “I still can’t believe that boy killed Richard and smeared his reputation with those wild allegations of abuse,” Christopher scoffed. Richard Pierce had been a well-respected, wealthy, and successful Boston businessman—the only requirements necessary for Christopher to hold a person in high esteem. Character and integrity could be overlooked as long as one’s connections were impeccable.
    “They weren’t allegations,” Malachim