50 Shades Darker- LAST 4 chaps on pg 13..8th Feb - Page 10

so many part in one go.
love it.
feel bad for zain after know his past.
love all ZaYa moment.
thanks for pm.

Originally posted by: -ZaYaholic-

so many part in one go.
love it.
feel bad for zain after know his past.
love all ZaYa moment.
thanks for pm.

Chap19

I stare at the flames, mesmerized. They dance and weave bright blazing orange with tips of

cobalt blue in the fireplace in zains apartment. And despite the heat pumping out of

the fire and the blanket draped around my shoulders, I'm cold. Bone-chillingly cold.

I'm aware of hushed voices, many hushed voices. But they're in the background, a

distant buzz. I don't hear the words. All I can hear, all I can focus on, is the soft hiss of the

gas from the fire.

My thoughts turn to the house we saw yesterday and the huge fireplaces"real fireplaces for burning wood. I'd like to make love with zain in front of a real fire. I'd like

to make love with zain in front of this fire. Yes, that would be fun. No doubt, he'd

think of some way to make it memorable like all the times we've made love. I snort wryly

to myself, even the times when we were just f**king. Yes, those were pretty memorable,

too. Where is he?

The flames shimmy and flicker, holding me captive, keeping me numb. I focus solely

on their flaring, scorching beauty. They are bewitching.

aliya, you've bewitched me.

He said that the first time he slept with me in my bed. Oh no . . .I wrap my arms around myself, and the world falls away from me and reality bleeds

into my consciousness. The creeping emptiness inside expands some more. Charlie Tango

is missing.

"aliya. Here," Mrs. Jones gently coaxes me, her voice bringing me back into the room,

into the now, into the anguish. She hands me a cup of tea. I take the cup and saucer gratefully, the rattle betraying my shaking hands.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice hoarse from unshed tears and the large lump in my

throat.

barkat sits across from me on the larger-than-large U-shaped couch, holding hands with

suraiyya. They gaze at me, pain and anxiety etched on their lovely faces. suraiyya looks older"

a mother worried for her son. I blink dispassionately at them. I can't offer a reassuring

smile, a tear even"there's nothing, just blankness and the growing emptiness. I gaze at harshad, rehaan, and bilal, who stand around the breakfast bar, all serious faces, talking quietly.

Discussing something in soft subdued voices. Behind them, Mrs. Jones busies herself in

the kitchen.

yasmin is in the TV room, monitoring the local news. I hear the faint squawk from the big

plasma TV. I can't bear to see the news item again"zain abdullah missing"his beautiful

face on TV.

Idly, it occurs to me that I've never seen so many people in this room, yet they are still

dwarfed by its sheer size. Little islands of lost, anxious people in my Fifty's home. What

would he think about them being here?

Somewhere, Taylor and usman are talking to the authorities who are drip-feeding us

information, but it's all meaningless. The fact is"he's missing. He's been missing for eight

hours. No sign, no word from him. The search has been called off"this much I do know.

It's just too dark. And we don't know where he is. He could be hurt, hungry, or worse. No!

I offer another silent prayer to God. Please let zain be okay. Please let zain

be okay. I repeat it over and over in my head"my mantra, my lifeline, something concrete

to cling to in my desperation. I refuse to think the worst. No, don't go there. There is hope.

"You're my lifeline."

Zain's words come back to haunt me. Yes, there is always hope. I must not despair.

His words echo through my mind.

"I'm now a firm advocate of instant gratification. Carpe diem, aliya."

Why didn't I seize the day?

"I'm doing this because I've finally met someone I want to spend the rest of my life

with."

I close my eyes in silent prayer, rocking gently. Please, let the rest of his life not be this

short. Please, please. We haven't had enough time . . . we need more time. We've done so

much in the last few weeks, come so far. It can't end. All our tender moments: the lipstick,

when he made love to me for the first time at the Olympic hotel, on his knees in front of me

offering himself to me, finally touching him.

"I am just the same, aliya. I love you and I need you. Touch me. Please."

Oh, I love him so. I will be nothing without him, nothing but a shadow"all the light

eclipsed. No, no, no . . . my poor zain."This is me, Aliya. All of me . . . and I'm all yours. What do I have to do to make you

realize that? To make you see that I want you any way I can get you. That I love you."

And I you, my Fifty Shades.

I open my eyes and gaze unseeing into the fire once more, memories of our time together flitting through my mind: his boyish joy when we were sailing and gliding; his

suave, sophisticated, hot-as-hell look at the masked ball; dancing, oh yes, dancing here in

the apartment to Sinatra, whirling round the room; his quiet, anxious hope yesterday at the

house"that stunning view.

"I will lay my world at your feet, aliya. I want you, body and soul, forever."

Oh, please, let him be okay. He cannot be gone. He is the center of my universe.

An involuntary sob escapes my throat, and I clutch my hand to my mouth. No. I must

be strong.

rehaan is suddenly at my side, or has he been there a while? I have no idea.

"Do you want to call your mom or dad?" he asks gently.

No! I shake my head and clutch rehaan's hand. I cannot speak, I know I will dissolve if I

do, but the warmth and gentle squeeze of his hand offers me no solace.

Oh, Mom. My lip trembles at the thought of my mother. Should I call her? No. I

couldn't deal with her reaction. Maybe ghulam, he wouldn't get emotional"he never gets

emotional, not even when the Mariners lose.

suraiyya rises to join the boys, distracting me. That must be the longest she's sat still. barkat

comes to sit beside me too and grabs my other hand.

"He will come back," she says, her voice initially determined but cracking on the last

word. Her eyes are wide and red-rimmed, her face pale and pinched from lack of sleep.

I gaze up at bilal, who is watching barkat and harshad, who has his arms around suraiyya. I

glance at the clock. It's after eleven, heading toward midnight. Damn time! With each passing hour, the clawing emptiness expands, consuming me, choking me. I know deep down

inside I am preparing myself, preparing myself for the worst. I close my eyes and offer up

another silent prayer, clasping both barkat and rehaan's hands.

Opening them again, I stare into the flames once more. I can see his shy smile"my

favorite of all his expressions, a glimpse of the real zain, my real zain. He is so

many people: control freak, CEO, stalker, sex god, Dom"and at the same time"such a

boy with his toys. I smile. His car, his boat, his plane . . . Charlie Tango . . . no . . . no . . .

my lost boy, truly lost right now. My smile fades and pain lances through me. I remember

him in the shower, wiping away the lipstick marks.

"I'm nothing, aliya. I'm a husk of a man. I don't have a heart."

The lump in my throat expands. Oh, zain, you do, you do have a heart, and it's

mine. I want to cherish it forever. Even though he's so complex and difficult, I love him. I

will always love him. There will never be anyone else. Ever.

I remember sitting in Starbucks weighing up my zain pros and cons. All those

cons, even those photographs I found this morning, melt into insignificance now. There's

just him and whether he'll come back. Oh please, Lord, bring him back, please let him be

okay. I'll go to church . . . I'll do anything. Oh, if I get him back, I shall seize the day. His

voice echoes around my head once more: "Carpe diem, Aliya."I gaze deeper into the fire, the flames still licking and curling around each other, blazing brightly. Then suraiyya shrieks, and everything goes into slow motion.

"Zain!"

I turn my head in time to see suraiyya barreling across the great room from where she had

been pacing somewhere behind me, and there in the entrance stands a dismayed zain.

He's dressed in just his shirtsleeves and suit pants, and he's holding his navy jacket, shoes,

and socks. He looks tired, dirty, and utterly beautiful.

Holy f**k . . . zain. He's alive. I gaze numbly at him, trying to work out if I'm

hallucinating or if he's really here.

His expression is one of utter bewilderment. He deposits his jacket and shoes on the

floor in time to catch suraiyya, who throws her arms around his neck and kisses him hard on

the cheek.

"Mom?"

zain gazes down at her, completely at a loss.

"I thought I'd never see you again," suraiyya whispers, voicing our collective fear.

"Mom, I'm here." I hear the consternation in his voice.

"I died a thousand deaths today," she whispers, her voice barely audible, echoing my

thoughts. She gasps and sobs, no longer able to hold back her tears. zain frowns, horrified or mortified"I don't know which"then after a beat, envelops her in a huge hug,

holding her close.

"Oh, zain," she chokes, wrapping her arms around him, weeping into his neck"

all self-restraint forgotten"and zain doesn't balk. He just holds her, rocking to and

fro, comforting her. Scalding tears pool in my eyes. usman hollers from the hallway.

"He's alive! Shit"you're here!" He appears from Taylor's office, clutching his cell

phone, and embraces both of them, his eyes closed in sweet relief.

"Dad?"

barkat squeals something unintelligible from beside me, then she's up, running, joining

her parents, hugging all of them, too.

Finally the tears start to cascade down my cheeks. He's here, he's fine. But I cannot

move.

usman is the first to pull away, wiping his eyes and clapping zain on the shoulder.

barkat releases them and suraiyya steps back.

"Sorry," she mumbles.

"Hey, Mom"it's okay," zain says, consternation still evident on his face.

"Where were you? What happened?" suraiyya cries and puts her head in her hands.

"Mom," zain mutters. He draws her into his arms again and kisses the top of her

head. "I'm here. I'm good. It's just taken me a hell of a long time to get back from Portland.

What's with the welcoming committee?" He looks up and scans the room until his eyes

lock with mine.

He blinks and glances briefly at rehaan, who lets go of my hand. zains mouth tightens. I drink in the sight of him and relief courses through me, leaving me spent, exhausted,

and completely elated. Yet my tears don't stop. zain turns his attention back to his

mother."Mom, I'm good. What's wrong?" zain says reassuringly. She places her hands

on either side of his face.

"zain, you've been missing. Your flight plan"you never made it to Seattle. Why

didn't you contact us?"

zains eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "I didn't think it would take this long."

"Why didn't you call?"

"No power in my cell."

"You didn't stop . . . call collect?"

"Mom"it's a long story."

"Oh, zain! Don't you ever do that to me again! Do you understand?" she half

shouts at him.

"Yes, Mom." He wipes her tears away with his thumb and hugs her once more. When

she composes herself, he releases her to hug barkat, who slaps him hard on the chest.

"You had us so worried!" she blurts out, and she, too, is in tears.

"I'm here now, for heaven's sake," zain mutters.

As harshad comes forward, zain relinquishes barkat to usman, who already has one

arm around his wife. He curls the other around his daughter. harshad hugs zain briefly,

much to zains surprise, and slaps him hard on the back.

"Great to see you." harshad says loudly, if a little gruffly, trying to hide his emotion.

As the tears stream down my face, I can see it all. The great room is bathed in it"unconditional love. He has it in spades; he's just never accepted it before, and even now he's

at a total loss.

Look, zain, all these people love you! Perhaps now you'll start believing it.

yasmin is standing behind me"she must have left the TV room"and she gently strokes

my hair.

"He's really here, Aliya," she murmurs comfortingly.

"I'm going to say hi to my girl now," zain tells his parents. Both nod, smile, and

step aside.

He moves toward me, gray eyes bright though weary and still bemused. From somewhere deep inside, I find the strength to stagger to my feet and bolt into his open arms.

"zain!" I sob.

"Hush," he says and holds me, burying his face in my hair and inhaling deeply. I raise

my tear-stained face to his, and he kisses me far too briefly.

"Hi," he murmurs.

"Hi," I whisper back, the lump in the back of my throat burning.

"Miss me?"

"A bit."

He grins. "I can tell." And with a gentle touch of his hand, he wipes away the tears that

refuse to stop running down my cheeks.

"I thought . . . I thought"" I choke.

"I can see. Hush . . . I'm here. I'm sorry. Later," he murmurs and kisses me chastely

again.

"Are you okay?" I ask, releasing him and touching his chest, his arms, his waist"oh,

the feel of this warm, vital, sensual man beneath my fingers"reassures me that he's here, standing in front of me. He's back. He doesn't so much as flinch. He just regards me intently.

"I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh, thank God," I clasp him round his waist again, and he hugs me once more. "Are

you hungry? Do you need something to drink?"

"Yes."

I step back to fetch him something, but he doesn't let me go. He tucks me under his

arm and extends a hand to rehaan.

"Mr. abdullah," says rehaan evenly.

zain snorts. "zain, please," he says.

"zain, welcome back. Glad you're okay . . . and um"thanks for letting me stay."

"No problem." zain narrows his eyes, but he's distracted by Mrs. Jones, who is

suddenly at his side. It only occurs to me now that she's not her usual smart self. I hadn't

noticed it before. Her hair is loose, and she's in soft gray leggings and a large gray sweatshirt that dwarfs her with WSU Cougars emblazoned on the front. She looks years younger.

"Can I get you something, Mr. abdullah?" She wipes her eyes with a tissue.

zain smiles fondly at her. "A beer, please, Gail"Budvar"and a bite to eat."

"I'll fetch it," I murmur, wanting to do something for my man.

"No. Don't go," he says softly, tightening his arm around me.

The rest of his family close in, and bilal and yasmin join us. He shakes bilal's hand and

gives yasmin a quick peck on the cheek. Mrs. Jones returns with a bottle of beer and a glass.

He takes the bottle but shakes his head at the glass. She smiles and returns to the kitchen.

"Surprised you don't want something stronger," mutters harshad. "So what the f**k happened to you? First I knew was when Dad called me to say the chopper was missing."

"harshad!" suraiyya scolds.

"Helicopter," zain growls, correcting harshad, who grins, and I suspect this is a family joke.

"Let's sit and I'll tell you." zain pulls me over to the couch, and everyone sits

down, all eyes on zain. He takes a long draft of his beer. He spies Taylor hovering at

the entrance and nods. Taylor nods back.

"Your daughter?"

"She's fine now. False alarm, sir."

"Good." zain smiles.

Daughter? What happened to Taylor's daughter?

"Glad you're back, sir. Will that be all?"

"We have a helicopter to collect."

Taylor nods. "Now? Or will the morning do?"

"Morning, I think, Taylor."

"Very good, Mr. abdullah. Anything else, sir?"

zain shakes his head and raises his bottle to him. Taylor gives him a rare smile"

rarer than zain's, I think"and heads out presumably to his office or up to his room.

"zain, what happened?" usman demands.

zain launches into his story. He was flying with Ros, his number two in Charlie

Tango to deal with a funding issue at WSU in Vancouver. I can barely keep up I'm so dazed. I just hold zains hand and stare at his manicured fingernails, his long fingers,

the creases on his knuckles, his wristwatch"an Omega with three small dials. I gaze up at

his beautiful profile as he continues his tale.

"Ros had never seen Mount St. Helens, so on the way back as a celebration, we took a

quick detour. I heard the TFR was lifted a while back and I wanted to take a look. Well, it's

fortunate that we did. We were flying low, about two hundred feet AGL, when the instrument panel lit up. We had a fire in the tail"I had no choice but to cut all the electronics

and land." He shakes his head. "I set her down by Silver Lake, got Ros out, and managed

to put the fire out."

"A fire? Both engines?" usman is horrified.

"Yep."

"Shit! But I thought."

"I know," zain interrupts him. "It was sheer luck I was flying so low," he murmurs. I shudder. He releases my hand and puts his arm around me.

"Cold?" he asks me. I shake my head.

"How did you put out the fire?" asks yasmin, her Carla Bernstein instincts kicking in.

Jeez, she sounds terse sometimes.

"Extinguisher. We have to carry them"by law." zain answers levelly.

His words from long ago circle my mind. "I thank divine providence every day that it

was you that came to interview me and not yasmin khan."

"Why didn't you call or use the radio?" suraiyya asks.

zain shakes his head. "With the electronics out, we had no radio. And I wasn't

going to risk turning them on because of the fire. GPS was still working on the Blackberry,

so I was able to navigate to the nearest road. Took us four hours to walk there. Ros was in

heels." zains mouth presses into a disapproving flat line.

"We had no cell reception. There's no coverage at Gifford. Ros's battery died first.

Mine dried up on the way."

Holy hell. I tense and zain pulls me into his lap.

"So how did you get back to Seattle?" suraiyya asks, blinking slightly at the sight of the

two of us, no doubt. I flush.

"We hitched and pooled our resources. Between us, Ros and I had six hundred dollars,

and we thought we'd have to bribe someone to drive us back, but a truck driver stopped and

agreed to bring us home. He refused the money and shared his lunch with us." zain

shakes his head in dismay at the memory. "Took forever. He didn't have a cell"weird, but

true. I didn't realize." He stops, gazing at his family.

"That we'd worry?" suraiyya scoffs. "Oh, zain!" she scolds him. "We've been going

out of our minds!"

"You've made the news, bro."

zain rolls his eyes. "Yeah. I figured that much when I arrived to this reception and

the handful of photographers outside. I'm sorry, Mom"I should have asked the driver to

stop so I could phone. But I was anxious to be back." He glances at rehaan.

Oh, that's why, because rehaan is staying here. I frown at the thought. Jeez"all that

worry.

suraiyya shakes her head. "I'm just glad you're back in one piece, darling."I start to relax, resting my head against his chest. He smells outdoorsy, slightly sweaty,

of body wash, and zain, the most welcome scent in the world. Tears start to trickle

down my face again, tears of gratitude.

"Both engines?" usman says again, frowning in disbelief.

"Go figure." zain shrugs and runs his hand down my back.

"Hey," he whispers. He puts his fingers under my chin and tilts my head back. "Stop

with the crying."

I wipe my nose with the back of my hand in a most unladylike way. "Stop with the

disappearing." I sniff and his lips quirk up.

"Electrical failure . . . that's odd, surely?" usman says again.

"Yes, crossed my mind, too, Dad. But right now, I'd just like to go to bed and think

about all that shit tomorrow."

"So the media know that the zain abdullah has been found safe and well?" yasmin says.

"Yes. Andrea and my PR people will deal with the media. Ros called her after we

dropped her home."

"Yes, Andrea called me to let me know you were still alive." usman grins.

"I must give that woman a raise. Sure is late," says zain.

"I think that's a hint, ladies and gentlemen, that my dear bro needs his beauty sleep,"

harshad scoffs suggestively. zain grimaces at him.

"usman, my son is safe. You can take me home now."

Suraiyya looks adoringly at her husband.

"Yes. I think we could use the sleep," usman replies smiling down at her.

"Stay," zain offers.

"No, sweetheart, I want to get home. Now that I know you're safe."

zain reluctantly eases me onto the couch and stands. suraiyya hugs him once more,

presses her head against his chest and closes her eyes, content. He wraps his arms around

her.

"I was so worried, darling," she whispers.

"I'm okay, Mom."

She leans back and studies him intently while he holds her. "Yes. I think you are," she

says slowly, glances at me, and smiles. I flush.

We follow usman and suraiyya as they make their way to the foyer. Behind me, I'm

aware that barkat and bilal are having a heated whispered conversation, but I can't hear it.

barkat is smiling shyly at bilal, and he's gaping at her and shaking his head. Suddenly,

she folds her arms and turns on her heel. He rubs his forehead with one hand, obviously

frustrated.

"Mom, Dad"wait for me," barkat calls sullenly. Perhaps she's as mercurial as her brother.

yasmin hugs me hard. "I can tell some serious shit's been going down while I've been

blissfully ignorant in Barbados. It's kind of obvious you two are nuts about each other. I'm

glad he's safe. Not just for him, aliya"for you, too."

"Thank you, yasmin," I whisper.

"Yeah. Who knew we'd find love at the same time?" She grins. Wow. She's admitted it.

"With brothers!" I giggle."We could end up sisters-in-law," she quips.

I tense, then mentally kick myself as yasmin stands back to gaze at me with her whataren't-you-telling-me-haider look. I flush. Damn, should I tell her he's asked me?

"Come on, baby," harshad summons her from the elevator.

"Let's talk tomorrow, Aliya. You must be exhausted."

I am reprieved. "Sure. You, too, yasmin"you've traveled long distance today."

We hug once more, then she and harshad follow the abdullahs into the elevator. bilal shakes

zains hand and gives me a quick hug. He looks distracted, but he follows them into

the elevator and the doors close.

rehaan is hovering in the hallway as we come out of the foyer.

"Look. I'll turn in . . . leave you guys," he says.

I blush. Jeez, why is this awkward?

"Do you know where to go?" zain asks.

rehaan nods.

"Yeah, the housekeeper""

"Mrs. Jones," I prompt.

"Yeah, Mrs. Jones, she showed me earlier. Quite a place you have here, zain."

"Thank you," zain says politely as he comes to stand beside me, placing his arm

around my shoulders. Leaning over, he kisses my hair.

"I'm going to eat whatever Mrs. Jones has put out for me. Goodnight, rehaan." Christian

wanders back into the great room, leaving rehaan and me at the entrance.

Wow! Left alone with rehaan.

"Well, goodnight." rehaan looks uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"Goodnight, rehaan, and thank you for staying."

"Sure, Aliya. Any time your rich, hotshot boyfriend goes missing"I'll be there."

"rehaan!" I admonish him.

"Only kidding. Don't get mad. I'll be leaving early in the morning"I'll see you sometime, yeah? I've missed you."

"Sure, rehaan. Soon I hope. Sorry tonight was so . . . shitty." I smirk apologetically.

"Yeah." He grins. "Shitty." He hugs me. "Seriously, Aliya, I'm glad you're happy, but

I'm here if you need me."

I gaze up at him. "Thank you."

He flashes me a sad, bittersweet smile, and then he goes upstairs.

I turn back to the great room. zain stands beside the couch, watching me with an

unreadable expression on his face. We're finally alone and we gaze at each other.

"He's still got it bad, you know," he murmurs.

"And how would you know that, Mr. abdullah?"

"I recognize the symptoms, Miss haider. I believe I have the same affliction."

"I thought I'd never see you again," I whisper. There"the words are out. All my worst

fears packaged neatly in one short sentence now exorcised.

"It wasn't as bad as it sounds."

I pick up his suit jacket and shoes from where they lie on the floor and move toward

him.

"I'll take that," he whispers, reaching for his jacket.zain gazes down at me as if I'm his reason for living and mirrors my look, I'm

sure. He is here, really here. He pulls me into his arms and wraps himself around me.

"zain," I gasp, and my tears start anew.

"Hush," he soothes, kissing my hair. "You know . . . in the few seconds of sheer terror

before I landed, all my thoughts were of you. You're my talisman, Aliya."

"I thought I'd lost you," I breathe. We stand, holding each other, reconnecting and reassuring each other. As I tighten my arms around him, I realize I'm still holding his shoes. I

drop them noisily to the floor.

"Come and shower with me," he murmurs.

"Okay." I glance up at him. I don't want to let go. Reaching down he tilts my chin up

with his fingers.

"You know even tear-stained, you are beautiful, aliya haider." He leans down and kisses

me gently. "And your lips are so soft." He kisses me again, deepening it.

Oh my . . . and to think, I could have lost . . . no . . . I stop thinking and surrender myself.

"I need to put my jacket down," he murmurs.

"Drop it," I murmur against his lips.

"I can't."

I lean back to gaze up at him, puzzled.

He smirks at me. "This is why." From the inside breast pocket he pulls out the small

box I gave him, containing my present. He slings the jacket over the back of the couch and

places the box on top.

Seize the day, aliya, my subconscious prods me. Well, it's after midnight, so technically

it's his birthday.

"Open it," I whisper, and my heart starts pounding.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he murmurs. "This has been driving me crazy."

I grin impishly at him. Jeez, I feel giddy. He gives me his shy smile, and I melt despite

my thumping heart, delighting in his amused yet intrigued expression. With deft long fingers, he unwraps and opens the box. His brow creases as he fishes out a small, rectangular,

plastic keychain bearing a picture made up of tiny pixels that flash on and off like an LED

screen. It depicts the Seattle skyline, focusing on the Space Needle, with the word SEATTLE written boldly across the landscape, flashing on and off.

He stares at it for a moment and then gazes at me bemused, a frown marring his lovely

brow.

"Turn it over," I whisper, holding my breath.

He does, and his eyes shoot to mine, wide and gray, alive with wonder and joy. His lips

part in disbelief.

The word yes flashes on and off on the key ring.

"Happy birthday," I whisper.

Chap20

"You'll marry me?" he whispers, incredulous.

I nod nervously, flushing and anxious and not quite believing his reaction"this man

whom I thought I'd lost. How could he not understand how much I love him?

"Say it," he orders softly, his gaze intense and hot.

"Yes, I'll marry you."

He inhales sharply and moves suddenly, grabbing me and swinging me round in a most

un-Fiftylike manner. He's laughing, young and carefree, radiating joyful elation. I grab his

arms to hold on, feeling his muscles ripple beneath my fingers, and his infectious laughter

sweeps me up"dizzy, addled, a girl totally and utterly smitten with her beautiful man. He

puts me down and kisses me. Hard. His hands are on either side of my face, his tongue

insistent, persuasive . . . arousing.

"Oh, aliya," he breathes against my lips, and it's an exultation that leaves me reeling.

He loves me, of that I have no doubt, and I savor the taste of this delicious man, this man I

thought I might never see again. His joy is evident"his eyes shining, his youthful smile"

and his relief is almost palpable.

"I thought I'd lost you," I murmur, still dazzled and breathless from his kiss.

"Baby, it will take more than a malfunctioning 135 to keep me away from you.""135?"

"Charlie Tango. She's a Eurocopter 135, the safest in its class." Some unnamed but

dark emotion crosses his face briefly, distracting me. What isn't he saying? Before I can

ask him, he stills and looks down at me, frowning, and for a moment I think he's going to

tell me. I blink up into his speculative gray eyes.

"Wait a minute. You gave this to me before we saw Flynn," he says, holding up the

keychain. He looks almost horrified.

Oh dear, where's he going with this? I nod, keeping a straight face.

His mouth drops open.

I shrug apologetically. "I wanted you to know that whatever Flynn said, it wouldn't

make a difference to me."

zain blinks at me in disbelief. "So all yesterday evening, when I was begging you

for an answer, I had it already?" He's dismayed. I nod again, trying desperately to gauge

his reaction. He gazes at me in stupefied wonder, but then narrows his eyes and his mouth

twists with amused irony.

"All that worry," he whispers ominously. I grin at him and shrug once more. "Oh, don't

try and get cute with me, Miss haider. Right now, I want . . ." He runs his hand through his

hair, then shakes his head and changes tack.

"I can't believe you left me hanging." His whisper is laced with disbelief. His expression alters subtly, his eyes gleaming wickedly, his mouth twitching into a carnal smile.

Holy hell. A thrill runs through me. What's he thinking?

"I believe some retribution is in order, Miss haider," he says softly.

Retribution? Oh shit! I know he's playing"but I take a cautious step back from him

anyway.

He grins. "Is that the game?" he whispers. "Because I will catch you." And his eyes

burn with a bright playful intensity. "And you're biting your lip," he says threateningly.

All of my insides tighten at once. Oh my. My future husband wants to play. I take another step back, then turn to run"but in vain. zain grabs me, and in one easy swoop

while I squeal with delight, surprise, and shock. He hoists me over his shoulder and heads

down the hall.

"zain!" I hiss, mindful that rehaan is upstairs, though whether he could hear us is

doubtful. I steady myself by clasping his lower back, then on a brave impulse, I swat his

behind. He swats me right back.

"Ow!" I yelp.

"Shower time," he declares triumphantly.

"Put me down!" I try and fail to sound disapproving. My struggle is futile"his arm is

firmly clamped over my thighs"and for some reason I cannot stop giggling.

"Fond of these shoes?" he asks amused as he opens the door to his bathroom.

"I prefer them to be touching the floor." I attempt to snarl at him, but it's not very effective as I can't keep the laughter out of my voice.

"Your wish is my command, Miss haider." Without putting me down, he slips off both

of my shoes and lets them clatter to the tile floor. Pausing by the vanity, he empties his

pockets"dead Blackberry, keys, wallet, the keychain. I can only imagine what I look like in the mirror from this angle. When he's finished, he marches directly into his overlarge

shower.

"zain!" I scold loudly"his intent is now clear.

He switches the water on at max. Jeez! Arctic water spurts over my backside, and I

squeal"then stop, mindful once more that rehaan is above us. It's cold and I'm fully clothed.

The chilling water soaks into my dress, my panties, and my bra. I'm drenched and I cannot

stop giggling.

"No!" I squeal. "Put me down!" I swat him again, harder this time, and zain releases me, letting me slide down his now soaked body. His white shirt is stuck to his chest

and his suit pants are sodden. I am soaked, too, flushed, giddy and breathless, and he's

grinning down at me, looking so . . . so unbelievably hot.

He sobers, his eyes shining, and cups my face again, drawing my lips to his. His kiss

is gentle, cherishing, and totally distracting. I no longer care that I am fully clothed and

soaking wet in zain's shower. It's just the two of us beneath the cascading water. He's

back, he's safe, he's mine.

My hands move involuntarily to his shirt as it clings to every line and sinew of his

chest, revealing the hair scrunched beneath the white wetness. I yank the shirt hem out of

his pants, and he groans against my mouth, but his lips do not leave mine. As I unbutton his

shirt, he reaches for my zipper, slowly sliding the clasp down my dress. His lips become

more insistent, more provocative, his tongue invading my mouth"and my body explodes

with desire. I tug his shirt hard, ripping it open. The buttons fly everywhere, ricocheting off

the tiles and disappearing onto the shower floor. As I strip the wet material off his shoulders

and down his arms, I press him into the wall, hampering his attempts to undress me. "Cufflinks," he murmurs, holding up his wrists where his shirt hangs sodden and limp.

With scrambling fingers, I release first one and then the other cuff, letting his gold cufflinks fall carelessly to the tiled floor and his shirt follows. His eyes search mine through

the cascading water, his gaze burning, carnal, heated like the water. I reach for the waistband of his pants, but he shakes his head and grabs my shoulders, spinning me round so

I am facing away from him. He finishes the long journey south with my zipper, smoothes

my wet hair away from my neck, and runs his tongue up my neck to my hairline and back

again, kissing and sucking as he goes.

I moan and slowly he peels my dress off my shoulders and down past my breasts, kissing my neck beneath my ear. He unclasps my bra and pushes it off my shoulders, freeing

my breasts. His hands reach around and cup each one as he murmurs his appreciation in

my ear.

"So beautiful," he whispers.

My arms are trapped by my bra and dress, which hang unfastened below my breasts,

my arms still in the sleeves but my hands are free. I roll my head, giving zain better

access to my neck and push my breasts into his magical hands. I reach round behind me

and welcome his sharp intake of breath as my inquisitive fingers make contact with his

erection. He pushes his groin into my welcoming hands. Dammit, why didn't he let me

take his pants off?He tugs on my nipples, and as they harden and stretch under his expert touch, all

thoughts of his pants disappear and pleasure spikes sharp and libidinous in my belly. I lean

my head back against him and groan.

"Yes," he breathes and turns me once more, capturing my mouth with his. He peels

my bra, dress and panties down so they join his shirt in a soggy heap on the shower floor.

I grab the body wash beside us. zain stills as he realizes what I am about to do.

Staring him straight in the eye, I squirt some of the sweet-smelling gel into my palm and

hold my hand up in front of his chest, waiting for an answer to my unspoken question. His

eyes widen, then he gives me an almost imperceptible nod.

Gently I place my hand on his sternum and start to rub the soap into his skin. His chest

rises as he inhales sharply, but he stands stock-still. After a beat, his hands clasp my hips,

but he doesn't push me away. He watches me warily, his look intense more than scared, but

his lips are parted as his breathing increases.

"Is this okay?" I whisper.

"Yes." His short, breathy reply is almost a gasp. I am reminded of the many showers

we've had together, but the one at the Olympic is a bittersweet memory. Well, now I can

touch him. I wash him using gentle circles, cleaning my man, moving to his underarms,

over his ribs, down his flat firm belly, toward his happy trail, and the waistband of his pants.

"My turn," he whispers and reaches for the shampoo, shifting us out of range of the

stream of water and squirting some on to the top of my head.

I think this is my cue to stop washing him, so I hook my fingers into his waistband. He

works the shampoo into my hair, his firm, long fingers massaging my scalp. Groaning in

appreciation, I close my eyes and give myself over to the heavenly sensation. After all the

stress of the evening, this is just what I need.

He chuckles and I open one eye to find him smiling down at me. "You like?"

"Hmm . . ."

He grins. "Me, too," he says and leans over to kiss my forehead, his fingers continuing

their sweet, firm kneading of my scalp.

"Turn round," he says authoritatively. I do as I'm told, and his fingers slowly work over

my head, cleansing, relaxing, loving me as they go. Oh, this is bliss. He reaches for more

shampoo and gently washes the long tresses down my back. When he's finished, he pulls

me back under the shower.

"Lean your head back," he orders quietly.

I willingly comply, and he carefully rinses out the suds. When he's done, I face him

once more and make a beeline for his pants.

"I want to wash all of you,"

I whisper. He smiles that lopsided smile and lifts his hands in a gesture that says "I'm

all yours, baby." I grin; it feels like Christmas. I make short work of his zipper, and soon

his pants and boxers join the rest of our clothing. I stand and reach for the body wash and

the freshwater sponge.

"Looks like you're pleased to see me," I murmur dryly.

"I'm always pleased to see you, Miss haider." He smirks at me.I soap the sponge, then retrace my journey over his chest. He's more relaxed"maybe

because I'm not actually touching him. I head south with the sponge, across his belly, along

the happy trail, through his pubic hair, and over and up his erection.

I peek up at him, and he regards me with hooded eyes and sensual longing. Hmm . . . I

like this look. I drop the sponge and use my hands, grasping him firmly. He closes his eyes,

tips his head back, and groans, thrusting his hips into my hands.

Oh yes! It's so arousing. My inner goddess has resurfaced after her evening of rocking

and weeping in the corner, and she's wearing harlot-red lipstick.

His burning eyes suddenly lock with mine. He's remembered something.

"It's Saturday," he exclaims, eyes alight with salacious wonder, and he grasps my

waist, pulling me to him and kissing me savagely.

Whoa"change of pace!

His hands sweep down my slick, wet body, round to my sex, his fingers exploring, teasing, and his mouth is relentless, leaving me breathless. His other hand is in my wet hair,

holding me in place while I bear the full force of his passion unleashed. His fingers move

inside me.

"Ahh," I moan into his mouth.

"Yes," he hisses and lifts me, his hands beneath my backside. "Wrap your legs around

me, baby." My legs fold around him, and I cling like a limpet to his neck. He braces me

against the wall of the shower and pauses, gazing down at me.

"Eyes open," he murmurs. "I want to see you."

I blink up at him, my heart hammering, my blood pulsing hot and heavy through my

body, desire, real and rampant surging through me. Then he eases into me oh-so-slowly,

filling me, claiming me, skin against skin. I push down against him and groan loudly. Once

fully inside me, he pauses once more, his face strained, intense.

"You are mine, aliya," he whispers.

"Always."

He smiles victoriously and shifts, making me gasp.

"And now we can let everyone know, because you said yes." His voice is reverential,

and he leans down, capturing my mouth with his, and starts to move . . . slow and sweet. I

close my eyes and tilt my head back as my body bows, my will submitting to his, slave to

his intoxicating slow rhythm.

His teeth graze my jaw, my chin, and down my neck as he picks up the pace, pushing

me onward, upward"away from this earthly plane, the teeming shower, the evening's

chilling fright. It's just me and my man moving in unison, moving as one"each completely absorbed in the other"our gasps and grunts mingling. I revel in the exquisite feeling of

his possession as my body blooms and flowers around him.

I could have lost him . . . and I love him . . . I love him so much, and I'm suddenly

overcome by the enormity of my love and the depth of my commitment to him. I will spend

the rest of my life loving this man, and with that awe-inspiring thought, I detonate around

him"a healing, cathartic orgasm, crying out his name as tears flow down my cheeks.

He reaches his climax and pours himself into me. With his face buried in my neck, he

sinks to the floor, holding me tightly, kissing my face, and kissing away my tears as the

warm water spills down around us, washing us clean."My fingers are pruny," I murmur, postcoital and sated as I lean against his chest. He raises

my fingers to his lips and kisses each in turn.

"We should really get out of this shower."

"I'm comfortable here." I'm sitting between his legs and he's holding me close. I don't

want to move.

zain murmurs his assent. But suddenly I'm bone tired, world-weary. So much has

happened this last week"enough for a lifetime of drama"and now I'm getting married. A

disbelieving giggle escapes my lips.

"Something amusing you, Miss haider?" he asks fondly.

"It's been a busy week."

He grins. "That it has."

"I thank God you're back in one piece, Mr. abdullah," I whisper, sobering at the thought of

what might have been. He tenses and I immediately regret reminding him.

"I was scared," he confesses much to my surprise.

"Earlier?"

He nods, his expression serious.

Holy shit. "So you made light of it to reassure your family?"

"Yes. I was too low to land well. But somehow I did."

Crap. My eyes sweep up to his, and he looks grave as the water cascades over us. "How

close a call was it?" He gazes down at me.

"Close," he pauses. "For a few awful seconds, I thought I'd never see you again."

I hug him tightly. "I can't imagine my life without you, zain. I love you so much

it frightens me."

"Me, too," he breathes. "My life would be empty without you. I love you so much."

His arms tighten around me and he nuzzles my hair. "I won't ever let you go."

"I don't want to go, ever." I kiss his neck, and he leans down and kisses me gently.

After a moment, he shifts. "Come"let's get you dry and into bed. I'm exhausted and

you look beat."

I lean back and arch an eyebrow at his choice of words. He cocks his head to one side

and smirks at me.

"You have something to say, Miss haider?"

I shake my head and clamber unsteadily to my feet.

I am sitting up in bed. zain insisted on drying my hair"he's quite skilled at it. How

that happened is an unpleasant thought, so I dismiss it immediately. It's after two in the

morning, and I am ready to sleep. zain gazes down at me and reexamines the keychain

before climbing into bed. He shakes his head, incredulous once more.

"This is so neat. The best birthday present I've ever had." He glances at me, his eyes

soft and warm. "Better than my signed Guiseppe DeNatale poster."

"I would have told you earlier, but as it was your birthday . . . What do you give the

man who has everything? I thought I'd give you . . . me."He puts the keychain down on the bedside table and snuggles in beside me, pulling me

into his arms against his chest so that we're spooning.

"It's perfect. Like you."

I smirk, though he can't see my expression. "I am far from perfect, zain."

"Are you smirking at me, Miss haider?"

How does he know? "Maybe." I giggle. "Can I ask you something?

"Of course," he nuzzles my neck.

"You didn't call on your trip back from Portland. Was that really because of Jos? You

were worried about me being here alone with him?"

zain says nothing. I turn to face him, and his eyes are wide as I reproach him.

"Do you know how ridiculous that is? How much stress you put your family and me

through? We all love you very much."

He blinks a couple of times and then gives me his shy smile. "I had no idea you'd all

be so worried."

I purse my lips. "When are you going to get it through your thick skull that you

are loved?"

"Thick skull?" His eyebrows widen in surprise.

I nod. "Yes. Thick skull."

"I don't think the bone density of my head is significantly higher than anywhere else

in my body."

"I'm serious! Stop trying to make me laugh. I am still a little mad at you, though that's

partially eclipsed by the fact that you're home safe and sound when I thought . . ." My

voice fades as I recall those anxious few hours. "Well, you know what I thought."

His eyes soften and he reaches up to caress my face. "I'm sorry. Okay."

"Your poor mom, too. It was very moving, seeing you with her," I whisper.

He smiles shyly. "I've never seen her that way." He blinks at the memory. "Yes, that

was really something. She's normally so self-possessed. It was quite a shock."

"See? Everyone loves you." I smile. "Perhaps now you'll start believing it." I lean

down and kiss him gently.

"Happy birthday, Zain. I'm glad you're here to share your day with me. And you

haven't seen what I've got for you tomorrow um . . . today." I smirk.

"There's more?" he says, astounded, and his face erupts into a breathtaking grin.

"Oh yes, Mr. abdullah, but you'll have to wait until then."

I wake suddenly from a dream or nightmare, and my pulse is thumping. I turn, panicked,

and to my relief, zain is fast asleep beside me. Because I've shifted, he stirs and

reaches out in his sleep, draping his arm over me, and rests his head on my shoulder, sighing softly.

The room is flooded with light. It's eight o'clock. zain never sleeps this late. I lie

back and let my racing heart calm. Why the anxiety? Is it the aftermath of last night? I turn and stare at him. He's here. He's safe. I take a deep steadying breath and gaze at

his lovely face. A face that is now so familiar, all its dips and shadows eternally etched on

my mind.

He looks much younger when he's asleep, and I grin because today he's a whole year

older. I hug myself, thinking about my present. Oooh . . . what will he do? Perhaps I should

start by bringing him breakfast in bed. Besides, rehaan may still be here.

I find rehaan at the counter, eating a bowl of cereal. I can't help but flush when I see him.

He knows I've spent the night with zain. Why do I suddenly feel so shy? It's not as if

I'm naked or anything. I'm wearing my silk floor-length wrap.

"Morning, rehaan," I smile, brazening it out.

"Hey, aliya!" His face lights up, genuinely pleased to see me. There's no hint of teasing

or salacious contempt in his expression.

"Sleep well?" I ask.

"Sure. Some view from up here."

"Yeah. It's pretty special." Like the owner of this apartment. "Want a real man's breakfast?" I tease.

"Love some."

"It's zain's birthday today"I'm making him breakfast in bed."

"He awake?"

"No, I think he's fried from yesterday." I quickly glance away from him and head to the

fridge so he can't see my blush. Jeez, it's only rehaan. When I take the eggs and bacon out of

the fridge, rehaan is grinning at me.

"You really like him, don't you?"

I purse my lips. "I love him, rehaan."

His eyes widen momentarily then he grins. "What's not to love?" he asks gesturing

round the great room.

I scowl at him. "Gee, thanks!"

"Hey, Aliya, just kidding."

Hmm . . . will I always have this leveled at me? That I'm marrying zain for his

money?

"Seriously, I'm kidding. You've never been that kind of girl."

"Omelet good for you?" I ask, changing the subject. I don't want to argue.

"Sure."

"And me," zain says as he saunters into the great room. Holy f**k, he's wearing

only pajama bottoms that hang in that totally hot way off his hips"Jeez!

"rehaan." He nods.

"zain." rehaan returns his nod solemnly.

zain turns to me and smirks as I stare. He's done this on purpose. I narrow my

eyes at him, desperately trying to recover my equilibrium, and zain's expression alters

subtly. He knows that I know what he's up to, and he doesn't care.

"I was going to bring you breakfast in bed."

Swaggering over, he wraps his arm around me, tilts my chin up, and plants a loud wet

kiss on my lips. Very unFifty!"Good morning, aliya," he says. I want to scowl at him and tell him to behave"

but it's his birthday. I flush. Why is he so territorial?

"Good morning, zain. Happy birthday." I give him a smile, and he smirks at me.

"I'm looking forward to my other present," he says and that's it. I flush the color of the

Red Room of Pain and glance nervously at rehaan, who looks like he's swallowed something

unpleasant. I turn away and start preparing the food.

"So what are your plans today, rehaan?" zain asks, seemingly casual as he sits down

on a barstool.

"I'm heading up to see my dad and ghulam, aliya's dad."

zain frowns.

"They know each other?"

"Yeah, they were in the army together. They lost contact until aliya and I were in college

together. It's kinda cute. They're best buds now. We're going on a fishing trip."

"Fishing?" zain is genuinely interested.

"Yeah"some great catches in these coastal waters. The steelheads can grow way big."

"True. My brother harshad and I landed a thirty-four pound steelhead once."

They're talking fishing? What is it about fishing? I have never understood it.

"Thirty-four pounds? Not bad. Aliya's father though, he holds the record. A forty-three

pounder."

"You're kidding! He never said."

"Happy birthday, by the way."

"Thanks. So, where do you like to fish?"

I zone out. This I do not need to know. But at the same time I'm relieved. See, zain? Rehaan's not so bad.

By the time rehaan makes to leave, both of them are much more relaxed with each other.

zain quickly changes into T-shirt and jeans and barefoot he accompanies rehaan and me

to the foyer.

"Thanks for letting me crash here," rehaan says to zain as they shake hands.

"Anytime," zain smiles.

rehaan hugs me quickly. "Stay safe, Aliya."

"Sure. Great to see you. Next time we'll have a proper evening out."

"I'll hold you to that." He waves at us from inside the elevator, and then he's gone.

"See, he's not so bad."

"He still wants to get into your panties, Aliya. But can't say I blame him."

"zain, that's not true!"

"You have no idea, do you?" He smirks down at me. "He wants you. Big time. "

I frown. "zain, he's just a friend, a good friend." And I'm suddenly aware that I

sound like zain when he's talking about Mrs. Robinson. The thought is unsettling.

zain holds up his hands in a placating gesture.

"I don't want to fight," he says softly.

Oh! We're not fighting . . . are we? "Me neither.""You didn't tell him we were getting married."

"No. I figured I ought to tell Mom and ghulam first." Shit. It's the first time I've thought

about this since I said yes. Jeez"what are my parents going to say?

zain nods. "Yes, you're right. And I . . . um, I should ask your father."

I laugh. "Oh, zain"this isn't the eighteenth century."

Holy shit. What will ghulam say? The thought of that conversation fills me with horror.

"It's traditional." zain shrugs.

"Let's talk about that later. I want to give you your other present." My aim is to distract

him. The thought of my present is burning a hole in my consciousness. I need to give it to

him and see how he reacts.

He gives me his shy smile, and my heart skips a beat. For as long as I live, I'll never

tire of looking at that smile.

"You're biting your lip," he says and pulls on my chin.

A thrill runs through my body as his fingers touch me. Without a word, and while I still

have a modicum of courage, I take his hand and lead him back to the bedroom. I drop his

hand, leaving him standing by the bed, and from under my side of the bed, I take out the

two remaining gift boxes.

"Two?" he says, surprised.

I take a deep breath. "I bought this before the, um . . . incident yesterday. I'm not sure

about it now." I quickly hand him one of the parcels before I can change my mind. He gazes

at me, puzzled, sensing my uncertainty.

"Sure you want me to open it?"

I nod, anxious.

zain tears off the packaging and gazes in surprise at the box.

"Charlie Tango," I whisper.

He grins. The box contains a small wooden helicopter with a large, solar-powered rotor

blade. He opens it up.

"Solar powered," he murmurs. "Wow." And before I know it he's sitting on the bed

assembling it. It snaps together quickly, and zain holds it up in the palm of his hand.

A blue wooden helicopter. He looks up at me and gives me his glorious, all-American-boy

smile, then heads to the window so that the little helicopter is bathed in sunlight and the

rotor starts to spin.

"Look at that," he breathes, examining it closely. "What we can already do with this

technology." He holds it at eye level, watching the blades spin. He's fascinated and fascinating to watch as he loses himself in thought, staring at the little helicopter. What is he

thinking?

"You like it?"

"Aliya, I love it. Thank you." He grabs me and kisses me swiftly, then turns back to

watch the rotor spin. "I'll add it to the glider in my office," he says distractedly, watching

the blade spin. He moves his hand out of the sunlight, and the blade slows down and comes

to a stop.

I can't help my face-splitting grin, and I want to hug myself. He loves it. Of course,

he's all about alternative technologies. I'd forgotten that in my haste to buy it. Placing it on

the chest of drawers, he turns to face me."It'll keep me company while we salvage Charlie Tango."

"Is it salvageable?"

"I don't know. I hope so. I'll miss her, otherwise."

Her? I am shocked at myself for the small pang of jealousy I feel for an inanimate

object. My subconscious snorts with derisory laughter. I ignore her.

"What's in the other box?" he asks, his eyes wide with almost childish excitement.

Holy f**k. "I'm not sure if this present is for you or me."

"Really?" he asks, and I know I have piqued his interest. Nervously I hand him the

second box. He shakes it gently and we both hear a heavy rattle. He glances up at me.

"Why are you so nervous?" he asks, bemused. I shrug, embarrassed and excited as I

flush. He raises an eyebrow at me.

"You have me intrigued, Miss haider," he whispers, and his voice runs right through

me, desire and anticipation spawning in my belly. "I have to say I'm enjoying your reaction. What have you been up to?" He narrows his eyes speculatively.

I remain tight-lipped as I hold my breath.

He removes the lid of the box and takes out a small card. The rest of the contents are

wrapped in tissue. He opens the card, and his eyes dart quickly to mine"widening with

shock or surprise. I just don't know.

"Do rude things to you?" he murmurs. I nod and swallow. He cocks his head to one

side warily, assessing my reaction, and frowns. Then turns his attention back to the box. He

tears through the pale-blue tissue paper and fishes out an eye mask, some nipple clamps,

a butt plug, his iPod, his silver-gray tie"and last but by no means least"the key to his

playroom.

He gazes at me, his expression dark, unreadable. Oh shit. Is this a bad move?

"You want to play?" he asks softly.

"Yes," I breathe.

"For my birthday?"

"Yes." Could my voice sound any smaller?

A myriad of emotions cross his face, none of which I can place, but he settles for anxious. Hmm . . . Not quite the reaction I was expecting.

"You're sure?" he asks.

"Not the whips and stuff."

"I understand that."

"Yes, then. I'm sure."

He shakes his head and gazes down at the contents of the box. "Sex mad and insatiable.

Well, I think we can do something with this lot," he murmurs almost to himself, then puts

the contents back in the box. When he glances at me again, his expression has completely

changed. Holy cow, his gray eyes burn, and his mouth lifts in a slow erotic smile. He holds

out his hand.

"Now," he says, and it's not a request. My belly clenches, tight and hard, deep, deep

down.

I put my hand in his."Come," he orders, and I follow him out of the bedroom, my heart in my mouth. Desire

races slick and hot through my blood as my insides tighten with hungry anticipation. My

inner goddess somersaults round her chaise longue. Finally!

Chap21

Zain pauses outside the playroom.

"You're sure about this?" he asks, his gaze heated yet anxious.

"Yes," I murmur, smiling shyly at him.

His eyes soften. "Anything you don't want to do?"

I'm derailed by his unexpected question, and my mind goes into overdrive. One thought

occurs. "I don't want you to take photos of me."

He stills, and his expression hardens as he cocks his head to one side and eyes me

speculatively.

Oh shit. I think he's going to ask me why, but fortunately he doesn't.

"Okay," he murmurs. His brow furrows as he unlocks the door, then stands aside to

usher me into the room. I feel his eyes on me as he follows me inside and closes the door.

Placing the gift box on the chest of drawers, he takes out the iPod, switches it on, then

waves at the music center on the wall so that the smoked glass doors glide silently open.

He presses some buttons, and after a moment, the sound of a subway train echoes round

the room. He turns it down so that the slow, hypnotic electronic beat that follows becomes

ambient. A woman starts to sing, I don't know who she is but her voice is soft yet rasping

and the beat is measured, deliberate . . . erotic. Oh my. It's music to make love to. Zain turns to face me as I stand in the middle of the room, my heart pounding, my

blood singing in my veins, pulsing"or so it feels"in time to the music's seductive beat.

He saunters casually over to me and tugs on my chin so I'm no longer biting my lip.

"What do you want to do, aliya?" he murmurs, planting a soft chaste kiss at the

corner of my mouth, his fingers still grasping my chin.

"It's your birthday. Whatever you want," I whisper. He traces his thumb along my

lower lip, his brow creased once more.

"Are we in here because you think I want to be in here?" His words are softly spoken,

but he regards me intently.

"No," I whisper. "I want to be in here, too."

His gaze darkens, growing bolder as he assesses my response. After what seems an

eternity, he speaks.

"Oh, there are so many possibilities, Miss haider." His voice is low, excited. "But let's

start with getting you naked." He pulls the sash of my robe so that it falls open, revealing

my silk nightdress, then steps back and sits nonchalantly down on the arm of the chesterfield couch.

"Take your clothes off. Slowly." He gives me a sensual, challenging look.

I swallow compulsively, pressing my thighs together. I'm already damp between my

legs. My inner goddess is stripped naked and standing in line, ready and waiting and begging me to play catch-up. I pull the robe away from my shoulders, my eyes never leaving

his, and shrug, letting it fall billowing to the floor. His mesmerizing gray eyes heat, and he

runs his index finger over his lips as he gazes at me.

Slipping the spaghetti straps of my gown off my shoulders, I gaze at him for a beat,

then release them. My nightdress skims and ripples softly down my body, pooling at my

feet. I am naked and practically panting and oh-so-ready.

zain pauses for a moment, and I marvel at the frankly carnal appreciation in his

expression. Standing up, he makes his way over to the chest and picks up his silver-gray

tie"my favorite tie. He pulls it through his fingers as he turns and strolls casually toward

me, a smile playing on his lips. When he stands in front of me, I expect him to ask for my

hands, but he doesn't.

"I think you're underdressed, Miss haider," he murmurs. He places the tie around my

neck, and slowly but dexterously ties it in what I assume is a fine Windsor knot. As he

tightens the knot, his fingers brush the base of my throat and electricity shoots through me,

making me gasp. He leaves the wide end of the tie long, long enough so the tip skims my

pubic hair.

"You look mighty fine now, Miss haider," he says and bends to kiss me gently on my

lips. It's a swift kiss, and I want more, desire spiraling wantonly through my body.

"What shall we do with you now?" he says, and then picking up the tie, he yanks

sharply so that I'm forced forward into his arms. His hands dive into my hair and pull my

head back, and he really kisses me, hard, his tongue unforgiving and merciless. One of his

hands roams freely down my back to cup my behind. When he pulls away, he's panting too

and gazing down at me, his eyes molten gray; and I'm left wanting, gasping for breath, my

wits thoroughly scattered. I'm sure my lips will be swollen after his sensual assault."Turn around," he orders gently and I obey. Pulling my hair free of the tie, he quickly

braids and secures it. He tugs the braid so my head tilts up.

"You have beautiful hair, aliya," he murmurs and kisses my throat, sending shivers running up and down my spine. "You just have to say stop. You know that, don't you?"

he whispers against my throat.

I nod, my eyes closed, and relish his lips on me. He turns me round once more and

picks up the end of the tie.

"Come," he says, tugging gently, leading me over to the chest where the rest of the

box's contents are on display.

"aliya, these objects." He holds up the butt plug. "This is a size too big. As an anal

virgin, you don't want to start with this. We want to start with this." He holds up his pinky

finger, and I gasp, shocked. Fingers . . . there? He smirks at me, and the unpleasant thought

of the anal fisting mentioned in the contract comes to mind.

"Just finger"singular," he says softly with that uncanny ability he has to read my

mind. My eyes dart to his. How does he do that?

"These clamps are vicious." He prods the nipple clamps. "We'll use these." He places

a different pair of clamps on the chest. They look like giant black hairpins, but with little

jet jewels hanging down. "They're adjustable," zain murmurs, his voice laced with

gentle concern.

I blink up at him, wide-eyed. zain, my sexual mentor. He knows so much more

about all this than I do. I'll never catch up. I frown. He knows more than me about most

things . . . except cooking.

"Clear?" he asks.

"Yes," I whisper, my mouth dry. "Are you going to tell me what you intend to do?"

"No. I'm making this up as I go along. This isn't a scene, aliya."

"How should I behave?"

His brow creases. "However you want to."

Oh!

"Were you expecting my alter ego, aliya?" he asks, his tone vaguely mocking and

bemused at once. I blink at him.

"Well, yes. I like him," I murmur. He smiles his private smile and reaches up to run his

thumb down my cheek.

"Do you now," he breathes and runs his thumb across my lower lip. "I'm your lover,

aliya, not your Dom. I love to hear your laugh and your girlish giggle. I like you relaxed and happy, like you are in rehaan's photos. That's the girl that fell into my office. That's

the girl I fell in love with."

Holy cow. My mouth drops open, and a welcome warmth blooms in my heart. It's

joy"pure joy.

"But having said all that, I also like to do rude things to you, Miss haider; and my alter

ego knows a trick or two. So, do as you're told and turn around." His eyes glint wickedly,

and the joy moves sharply south, seizing me tightly and gripping every sinew below my

waist. I do as I'm told. Behind me, he opens one of the drawers and a moment later he's in

front of me again."Come," he orders and tugs on the tie, leading me to the table. As we walk past the

couch, I notice for the first time that all the canes have vanished. It distracts me. Were they

there yesterday when I came in? I don't remember. Did zain move them? Mrs. Jones?

zain interrupts my train of thought.

"I want you to kneel up on this," he says when we're at the table.

Oh, okay. What does he have in mind? My inner goddess can't wait to find out"she's

already scissor-kicked onto the table and is watching him with adoration.

He gently lifts me onto the table, and I fold my legs beneath me and kneel in front

of him, surprised by my own grace. Now we are eye to eye. He runs his hands down my

thighs, grasps my knees, and pulls my legs apart and stands directly in front of me. He

looks very serious, his eyes darker, hooded . . . lustful.

"Arms behind your back. I'm going to cuff you."

He produces some leather cuffs from his back pocket and reaches around me. This is

it. Where's he going to take me this time?

His proximity is intoxicating. This man is going to be my husband. Can one lust after

one's husband like this? I don't remember reading about that anywhere. I can't resist him,

and I run my parted lips along his jaw, feeling the stubble, a heady combination of prickly

and soft, under my tongue. He stills and closes his eyes. His breathing falters and he pulls

back.

"Stop. Or this will be over far quicker than either of us wants," he warns. For a moment, I think he might be angry but then he smiles, and his heated eyes are alight with

amusement.

"You're irresistible," I pout.

"Am I now?" he says dryly.

I nod.

"Well"don't distract me, or I'll gag you."

"I like distracting you," I whisper, looking mulishly at him, and he cocks his eyebrow

at me.

"Or spank you."

Oh! I try to hide my smile. There was a time, not very long ago, when I would have

been subdued by this threat. I would never have had the nerve to kiss him, unbidden, while

he was in this room. I realize now, I'm no longer intimidated by him. It's a revelation. I grin

mischievously, and he smirks at me.

"Behave," he growls and stands back, gazing at me and slaps the leather cuffs across

his palm. And the warning is there, implicit in his actions. I try for contrite, and I think I

succeed. He approaches me again.

"That's better," he breathes and leans behind me once more with the cuffs. I resist

touching him but inhale his glorious zain scent, still fresh from last night's shower.

Hmm . . . I should bottle this.

I expect him to cuff my wrists, but he attaches each cuff above my elbows. It makes me

arch my back, pushing my breasts forward, though my elbows are by no means together.

When he's finished, he stands back to admire me.

"Feel okay?" he asks. It's not the most comfortable of positions, but I'm so wired with

anticipation to see where he's going with this that I nod, weak with wanting."Good." He pulls the mask from his back pocket.

"I think you've seen enough now," he murmurs. He slides the mask over my head,

covering my eyes. My breathing spikes. Wow. Why is not being able to see so erotic? I am

here, trussed up and kneeling on a table, waiting"sweet anticipation hot and heavy deep

in my belly. I can still hear, though, and the melodic steady beat of the track continues. It

resonates through my body. I hadn't noticed before. He must have it on repeat.

zain steps away. What is he doing? He moves back to the chest and opens a drawer, then closes it again. A moment later he's back, and I sense him in front of me. There's a

pungent, rich, musky scent in the air. It's delicious, almost mouth-watering.

"I don't want to ruin my favorite tie," he murmurs. It slowly unravels as he undoes it.

I inhale sharply as the tail of the tie travels up my body, tickling me in its wake. Ruin

his tie? I listen acutely to determine what he's going to do. He's rubbing his hands together.

His knuckles suddenly brush over my cheek, down to my jaw following my jawline.

My body leaps to attention as his touch sends a delicious shiver through me. His hand

flexes over my neck, and it's slick with sweet-smelling oil so his hand glides smoothly

down my throat, across my clavicle, and up to my shoulder, his fingers kneading gently as

they go. Oh, I'm getting a massage. Not what I expected.

He places his other hand on my other shoulder and begins another slow teasing journey

across my clavicle. I groan softly as he works his way down toward my increasingly aching

breasts, aching for his touch. It's tantalizing. I arch my body further into his deft touch, but

his hands glide to my sides, slow, measured, in time to the beat of the music, and studiously

avoid my breasts. I groan, but I don't know if it's from pleasure or frustration.

"You are so beautiful, aliya," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, his mouth next

to my ear. His nose follows along my jaw as he continues to massage me"beneath my

breasts, across my belly, down . . . He kisses me fleetingly on my lips, then he runs his nose

down my neck, my throat. Holy cow, I'm on fire . . . his nearness, his hands, his words.

"And soon you'll be my wife to have and to hold," he whispers.

Oh my.

"To love and to cherish."

Jeez.

"With my body, I will worship you."

I tip my head back and moan. His fingers run through my pubic hair, over my sex, and

he rubs the palm of his hand against my c***oris.

"Mrs. abdullah," he whispers as his palm works against me.

I groan.

"Yes," he breathes as his palm continues to tease me. "Open your mouth."

My mouth is already open from panting. I open wider, and he slips a large cool metal

object between my lips. Shaped like an oversized baby's pacifier, it has small grooves or

carvings, and what feels like a chain at the end. It's big.

"Suck," he commands softly. "I'm going to put this inside you."

Inside me? Inside me where? My heart lurches into my mouth.

"Suck," he repeats and he stops palming me.

No. Don't stop, I want to shout, but my mouth is full. His oiled hands glide back up my

body and finally cup my neglected breasts."Don't stop sucking."

Gently he rolls my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, and they harden and

lengthen under his expert touch, sending synaptic waves of pleasure all the way to my

groin.

"You have such beautiful breasts, Aliya," he murmurs and my nipples harden further in

response. He murmurs his approval and I moan. His lips move down from my neck toward

one breast, trailing soft bites and sucks over and over, down toward my nipple, and suddenly I feel the pinch of the clamp.

"Ah!" I garble my groan through the device in my mouth. Holy cow, the feeling is exquisite, raw, painful, pleasurable . . . oh"the pinch. Gently, he laves the restrained nipple

with his tongue, and as he does so, he applies the other. The bite of the second clamp is

equally harsh . . . but just as good. I groan loudly.

"Feel it," he whispers.

Oh, I do. I do. I do.

"Give me this." He tugs gently on the ornate metal pacifier in my mouth, and I release

it. His hands once more trail down my body, toward my sex. He's re-oiled his hands. They

glide around to my backside.

I gasp. What's he going to do? I tense up on my knees as he runs his fingers between

my buttocks.

"Hush, easy," he breathes close to my ear and kisses my neck as his fingers stroke and

tease me.

What's he going to do? His other hand glides down my belly to my sex, palming me

once more. He eases his fingers inside me, and I moan loudly, appreciatively.

"I'm going to put this inside you," he murmurs. "Not here." His fingers trail between

my buttocks, spreading oil. "But here." He moves his fingers round and round, in and out,

hitting the front wall of my vagina. I moan and my restrained nipples swell.

"Ah."

"Hush now." zain removes his fingers and slides the object into me. He cups my

face and kisses me, his mouth invading mine, and I hear a very faint click. Instantly the

plug inside me starts to vibrate"down there! I gasp. The feeling is extraordinary"beyond

anything I've felt before.

"Ah!"

"Easy," zain calms me, stifling my gasps with his mouth. His hands move down

and tug very gently on the clamps. I cry out loudly.

"zain, please!"

"Hush, baby. Hang in there."

This is too much"all this overstimulation, everywhere. My body starts to climb, and

on my knees, I'm unable to control the buildup. Oh my . . . Will I be able to handle this?

"Good girl," he soothes.

"zain," I pant, sounding desperate even to my own ears.

"Hush, feel it, Aliya. Don't be afraid." His hands are now on my waist, holding me, but I

can't concentrate on his hands, what's inside me, and the clamps, too. My body is building,

building to an explosion"with the relentless vibrations and the sweet, sweet torture of my nipples. Holy hell. It will be too intense. His hands move from my hips, down and around,

slick and oiled, touching, feeling, kneading my skin"kneading my behind.

"So beautiful," he murmurs and suddenly he gently pushes an anointed finger inside

me . . . there! Into my backside. f**k. It feels alien, full, forbidden . . . but oh . . . so . . .

good. And he moves slowly, easing in and out, while his teeth graze my upturned chin.

"So beautiful, aliya."

I'm suspended high"high above a wide, wide ravine, and I'm soaring then falling

giddily at the same time, plunging to the Earth. I can hold on no more, and I scream as

my body convulses and climaxes at the overwhelming fullness. As my body explodes, I'm

nothing but sensation"everywhere. zain releases first one and then the other clamp,

causing my nipples to sing with a surge of sweet, sweet painful feeling, but it's oh-sogood and causing my orgasm, this orgasm, to go on and on. His finger stays where it is,

gently easing in and out.

"Argh!" I cry out, and zain wraps himself around me, holding me, as my body

continues to pulse mercilessly inside.

"No!" I shout again, pleading, and this time he tugs the vibrator out of me, and his

finger, too, as my body continues to convulse.

He unstraps one of the cuffs so that my arms fall forward. My head lolls on his shoulder, and I am lost, lost to all this overwhelming sensation. I'm all shattered breath, exhausted desire and sweet, welcome oblivion.

Vaguely, I'm aware that zain lifts me, carries me over to the bed, and lays me

down on the cool satin sheets. After a moment, his hands, still oiled, gently rub the backs

of my thighs, my knees, my calves, and my shoulders. I feel the bed dip as he stretches out

beside me.

He pulls the mask off, but I don't have the energy to open my eyes. Finding my braid

he undoes the hair tie and leans forward, kissing me softly on my lips. Only my erratic

breathing disturbs the silence in the room and steadies as I float gently back to Earth. The

music has stopped.

"So beautiful," he murmurs.

When I persuade one eye to open, he's gazing down at me, smiling softly.

"Hi," he says. I manage a grunt in response, and his smile broadens. "Rude enough for

you?"

I nod and give him a reluctant grin. Jeez, any ruder and I'd have to spank the pair of us.

"I think you're trying to kill me," I mutter.

"Death by orgasm." He smirks. "There are worse ways to go," he says but then frowns

ever so slightly as an unpleasant thought crosses his mind. It distresses me. I reach up and

caress his face.

"You can kill me like this anytime," I whisper. I notice that he's gloriously naked and

ready for action. When he takes my hand and kisses my knuckles, I lean up and capture his

face between my hands and pull his mouth to mine. He kisses me briefly, then stops.

"This is what I want to do," he murmurs and reaches beneath his pillow for the music

center remote. He presses a button and the soft strains of a guitar echo round the walls."I want to make love to you," he says gazing down at me, his gray eyes burning with

bright, loving sincerity. Softly in background, a familiar voice starts to sing "The First

Time Ever I Saw Your Face." And his lips find mine.

As I tighten around him, finding my release once more, zain unravels in my arms, his

head thrown back as he calls out my name. He clasps me tightly to his chest as we sit nose

to nose in the middle of his vast bed, me astride him. And in this moment"this moment of

joy with this man to this music"the intensity of my experience this morning in here with

him and all that has occurred during the past week overwhelms me anew, not just physically but emotionally. I am completely overcome with all these feelings. I am so deeply,

deeply in love with him. For the first time I'm offered a glimmer of understanding as to

how he feels about my safety.

Recalling his close call with Charlie Tango yesterday, I shudder at the thought and tears

pool in my eyes. If anything ever happened to him"I love him so. My tears run unchecked

down my cheeks. So many sides of zain"his sweet, gentle persona and his rugged, Ican-do-what-I-f**king-well-like-to-you-and-you'll-come-like-a-train Dominant side"his

fifty shades"all of him. All spectacular. All mine. And I'm aware we don't know each

other well, and we have a mountain of issues to overcome, but I know for each other, we

will"and we'll have a lifetime to do it.

"Hey," he breathes, clasping my head in his hands, gazing down at me. He's still inside

me. "Why are you crying?" His voice is filled with concern.

"Because I love you so much," I whisper. He half-closes his eyes as if drugged, absorbing my words. When he opens them again, they blaze with his love.

"And I you, Aliya. You make me . . . whole." He kisses me gently as Roberta Flack

finishes her song.

We have talked and talked and talked, sitting upright together on the bed in the playroom,

me in his lap, our legs curled around each other. The red satin sheet is draped around us like

a royal cocoon, and I have no idea how much time has passed. zain is laughing at my

impersonation of yasmin during the photo shoot at the Heathman.

"To think it could have been her who came to interview me. Thank the Lord for the

common cold," he murmurs and kisses my nose.

"I believe she had flu, zain," I scold him, trailing my fingers idly through his chest

hair and marveling that he's tolerating it so well. "All the canes have gone," I murmur, recalling my distraction from earlier. He tucks my hair behind my ear for the umpteenth time.

"I didn't think you'd ever get past that hard limit."

"No, I don't think I will," I whisper wide-eyed at him, then find myself glancing over

at the whips, paddles and floggers lining the opposite wall. He follows my gaze.

"You want me to get rid of them, too?" He's amused but sincere.

"Not the crop . . . the brown one. Or that suede flogger, you know." I flush.

He smiles down at me."Okay, the crop and the flogger. Why, Miss haider, you're full of surprises."

"As are you, Mr. abdullah. It's one of the things I love about you." I kiss him gently at the

corner of his mouth.

"What else do you love about me?" he asks and his eyes widen.

I know it's a huge deal for him to ask this question. It humbles me and I blink at him. I

love everything about him"even his fifty shades. I know that life with zain will never

be boring.

"This." I stroke my index finger across his lips. "I love this, and what comes out of

it, and what you do to me with it. And what's in here." I caress his temple. "You're so

smart and witty and knowledgeable, competent in so many things. But most of all, I love

what's in here." I press my palm gently against his chest, feeling his steady, beating heart.

"You are the most compassionate man I've met. What you do. How you work. It's aweinspiring," I whisper.

"Awe-inspiring?" He's puzzled, but there's a trace of humor on his face. Then his face

transforms, and his shy smile appears as if he's embarrassed, and I want to launch myself

at him. So I do.

I am dozing, wrapped in satin and abdullah. zain nuzzles me awake.

"Hungry?" he whispers

"Hmm, famished."

"Me, too."

I lean up to gaze down at him sprawled on the bed.

"It's your birthday, Mr. abdullah. I'll cook you something. What would you like?"

"Surprise me." He runs his hand down my back, stroking me gently. "I should check

my Blackberry for all the messages I missed yesterday." He sighs and starts to sit up, and I

know this special time is over . . . for now.

"Let's shower," he says.

Who am I to turn down the birthday boy?

zain is in his study on the phone. Taylor is with him, looking serious but casual in

jeans and a tight, black T-shirt. I busy myself in the kitchen fixing lunch. I have found salmon steaks in the fridge, and I'm poaching them with lemon, making a salad, and boiling

some baby potatoes. I feel extraordinarily relaxed and happy, on top of the world"literally.

Turning toward the large window, I stare out at the glorious blue sky. All that talking . . . all

that sexing . . . hmm. A girl could get used to that.

Taylor emerges from the study, interrupting my reverie. I turn down my iPod and take

out an ear bud.

"Hi, Taylor."

"Aliya." He nods.

"Your daughter okay?"

"Yes, thanks. My ex-wife thought she had appendicitis, but she was overreacting as

usual." Taylor rolls his eyes, surprising me. "Sophie's fine, though she has a nasty stomach

bug."

"I'm sorry."

He smiles.

"Has Charlie Tango been located?"

"Yes. The recovery team is on its way. She should be back at Boeing Field late tonight."

"Oh, good."

He gives me a tight smile. "Will that be all, ma'am?"

"Yes, yes of course." I flush . . . will I ever get used to Taylor calling me ma'am? It

makes me feel so old, at least thirty.

He nods and heads out of the great room. zain is still on the phone. I am waiting

for the potatoes to boil. It gives me an idea. Fetching my purse, I fish out my Blackberry.

There's a text from yasmin.

*C U this evening. Looking forward to a looong chat*

I text back.

*Same here*

It will be good to talk to yasmin.

Calling up the e-mail program, I type a quick message to zain.

From: aliya

Subject: Lunch

Date: June 18, 2011 13:12

To: zain

Dear Mr. abdullah

I am e-mailing to inform you that your lunch is nearly ready.

And that I had some mind-blowing, kinky f**kery earlier today.

Birthday kinky f**kery is to be recommended.

And another thing"I love you.

A xx

(Your fiance)

I listen carefully for a reaction, but he's still on the phone. I shrug. Perhaps he's just too

busy. My Blackberry vibrates.

From: zain

Subject: Kinky f**kery

Date: June 18, 2011 13:15

To: aliya

What aspect was most mind-blowing?

I'm taking notes.

Zain xxx

Famished and Wasting Away After the Mornings Exertions CEO, Abdullah Enterprises Holdings Inc.

PS: I love your signature

PPS: What happened to the art of conversation?

From: aliya

Subject: Famished?

Date: June 18, 2011 13:18

To: zain

Dear Mr. abdullah

May I draw your attention to the first line of my previous e-mail informing you that your

lunch is indeed almost ready . . . so none of this famished and wasting away nonsense.

With regard to the mind-blowing aspects of the kinky f**kery . . . frankly"all of it. I'd be

interested in reading your notes. And I like my bracketed signature, too.

A x

(Your fiance)

PS: Since when have you been so loquacious? And you're on the phone!

I press send and look up, and he's standing in front of me, smirking. Before I can say

anything, he bounds around the kitchen island, sweeps me up in his arms, and kisses me

soundly.

"That is all, Miss haider," he says, releasing me, and he saunters"in his jeans, bare

feet and untucked white shirt"back to his office, leaving me breathless.

I've made a watercress, cilantro, and sour cream dip to accompany the salmon, and I've

set the breakfast bar. I hate interrupting him while he's working, but now I stand in the

doorway of his office. He's still on the phone, all thoroughly f**ked hair and bright gray

eyes"a visually nourishing feast. He looks up when he sees me and doesn't take his eyes

off me. He frowns slightly, and I don't know if it's at me or because of his conversation.

"Just let them in and leave them alone. Do you understand, barkat?" he hisses and rolls

his eyes. "Good."I mime eating, and he grins at me and nods.

"I'll see you later." He hangs up. "One more call?" he asks.

"Sure."

"That dress is very short," he adds.

"You like it?" I give him a quick twirl. It's one of Caroline Acton's purchases. A soft

turquoise sundress, probably more suitable for the beach, but it's such a lovely day on so

many levels. He frowns and my face falls.

"You look fantastic in it, aliya. I just don't want anyone else to see you like that."

"Oh!" I scowl at him. "We're at home, zain. No one but the staff."

His mouth twists, and either he's trying to hide his amusement or he really doesn't

think that's funny. But eventually he nods, reassured. I shake my head at him"he's actually being serious? I head back to the kitchen.

Five minutes later, he's back in front of me, holding the phone.

"I have Ghulam for you," he murmurs, his eyes wary.

All the air leaves my body at once. I take the phone and cover the mouthpiece.

"You told him!" I hiss. zain nods, and his eyes widen at my obvious look of distress.

Shit! I take a deep breath. "Hi, Dad."

"zain has just asked me if he can marry you," Ghulam says.

Oh Shit. The silence stretches between us as I desperately think what to say. Ray as

usual stays silent, giving me no clue as to his reaction to this news.

"What did you say?" I crack first.

"I said I wanted to talk to you. It's kind of sudden, don't you think, Annie? You've not

known him long. I mean, he's a nice guy, knows his fishing . . . but so soon?" His voice is

calm and measured.

"Yes. It is sudden . . . hang on." Hastily, I leave the kitchen area away from zain's

anxious gaze and head toward the great window. The doors to the balcony are open, and I

step out into the sunshine. I can't quite walk to the edge. It's just too far up.

"I know it's sudden and all"but . . . well, I love him. He loves me. He wants to marry

me, and there'll never be anyone else for me." I flush thinking this is probably the most

intimate conversation I have ever had with my stepfather.

Ghulam is silent on the other end of the phone.

"Have you told your mother?"

"No."

"aliya . . . I know he's all kinds of rich and eligible, but marriage? It's such a big step.

You're sure?"

"He's my happily ever after," I whisper.

"Whoa." Ghulam says after a moment, his tone softer.

"He's everything."

"Aliya, Aliya, Aliya. You're such a headstrong young woman. I hope to God you

know what you're doing. Hand me back to him, will you?"

"Sure, Dad, and will you give me away at the wedding?" I ask quietly."Oh, honey." His voice cracks, and he's quiet for a few moments, the emotion in his

voice bringing tears to my eyes. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure," he says eventually.

Oh, ghulam. I love you so much . . . I swallow, to keep from crying. "Thank you, Dad. I'll

hand you back to zain. Be gentle with him. I love him," I whisper.

I think ghulam is smiling on the other end of the line, but it's hard to tell. It's always hard

to tell with ghulam.

"Sure thing, aliya. And come and visit this old man and bring that zain with you."

I march back into the room"pissed at zain for not warning me"and hand him

the phone, my expression letting him know just how pissed I am. He's amused as he takes

the phone and heads back into his study.

Two minutes later, he reappears.

"I have your stepfather's rather begrudging blessing," he says proudly, so proudly, in

fact, that it makes me giggle, and he grins at me. He's acting like he's just negotiated a

major new merger or acquisition, which I suppose on one level, he has.

"Damn, you're a good cook, woman." zain swallows his last mouthful and raises his

glass of white wine to me. I blossom under his praise, and it occurs to me I'll only get to

cook for him on weekends. I frown. I enjoy cooking. Perhaps I should have made him a

cake for his birthday. I check my watch. I still have time.

"aliya?" He interrupts my thoughts. "Why did you ask me not to take your photo?" His

question startles me all the more because his voice is deceptively soft.

Oh . . . shit. The photos. I stare down at my empty plate, twisting my fingers in my lap.

What can I say? I'd promised myself not to mention that I'd found his version of Readers'

Wives.

"aliya," he snaps. "What is it?" He makes me jump, and his voice commands me to look

at him. When did I think he didn't intimidate me?

"I found your photos," I whisper.

His eyes widen in shock. "You've been in the safe?" he asks, incredulous.

"Safe? No. I didn't know you had a safe."

He frowns. "I don't understand."

"In your closet. The box. I was looking for your tie, and the box was under your

jeans . . . the ones you normally wear in the playroom. Except today." I flush.

He gapes at me, appalled, and nervously runs his hand through his hair as he processes

this information. He rubs his chin, lost in thought, but he can't mask the perplexed annoyance etched on his face. Abruptly he shakes his head, exasperated"but amused, too"and

a faint smile of admiration kisses the corner of his mouth. He steeples his hands in front of

him and focuses on me once more.

"It's not what you think. I'd forgotten all about them. That box has been moved. Those

photographs belong in my safe."

"Who moved them?" I whisper.

He swallows. "There's only one person who could have done that."

"Oh. Who? And what do you mean, it's not what I think'?"

He sighs and tilts his head to one side, and I think he's embarrassed. So he should be!

My subconscious snarls.

"This is going to sound cold, but"they're an insurance policy," he whispers steeling

himself for my response.

"Insurance policy?"

"Against exposure."

The penny drops and rattles uncomfortably round and round in my empty head.

"Oh," I murmur, because I can't think of what else to say. I close my eyes. This is it.

This is Fifty Shades of f**ked-Up, right here, right now. "Yes. You're right," I mutter.

"That does sound cold." I stand to clear our dishes. I don't want to know any more.

"aliya."

"Do they know? The girls . . . the subs?"

He frowns. "Of course they know."

Oh, well, that's something. He reaches out, grabbing me and pulling me to him.

"Those photos are supposed to be in the safe. They're not for recreational use." He

stops. "Maybe they were when they were taken originally. But"" He stops, imploring me.

"They don't mean anything."

"Who put them in your closet?"

"It could only have been Leila."

"She knows your safe combination?"

He shrugs. "It wouldn't surprise me. It's a very long combination, and I use it so rarely.

It's the one number I have written down and haven't changed." He shakes his head. "I

wonder what else she knows and if she's taken anything else out of there." He frowns, then

turns his attention back to me. "Look, I'll destroy the photos. Now, if you like."

"They're your photos, zain. Do with them as you wish," I mutter.

"Don't be like that," he says, taking my head in his hands and holding my gaze to his.

"I don't want that life. I want our life, together."

Holy cow. How does he know that beneath my horror about these photos is the fact

that I'm paranoid?

"aliya, I thought we exorcised all those ghosts this morning. I feel that way. Don't you?"

I blink at him, recalling our very, very pleasurable and romantic and downright dirty

morning in his playroom.

"Yes," I smile. "Yes, I feel like that, too."

"Good." He leans forward and kisses me, folding me in his arms. "I'll shred them," he

murmurs. "And then I have to go to work. I'm sorry, baby, but I have a mountain of business to get through this afternoon."

"It's cool. I have to call my mother." I grimace. "Then I want to do some shopping and

bake you a cake."

He grins and his eyes light up like a small boy's.

"A cake?"

I nod.

"A chocolate cake?"

"You want a chocolate cake?" His grin is infectious.He nods.

"I'll see what I can do, Mr. abdullah."

He kisses me once more.

shabana is stunned into silence.

"Mom, say something."

"You're not pregnant, are you, aliya?" she whispers in horror.

"No, no, no, nothing like that." Disappointment slices through my heart, and I'm saddened that she would think that of me. But then I remember with an ever-sinking feeling

that she was pregnant with me when she married my father.

"I'm sorry, darling. This is just so sudden. I mean, zain is quite a catch, but you're

so young, and you should see a little of the world."

"Mom, can't you just be happy for me? I love him."

"Darling, I just need to get used to the idea. It's a shock. I could tell in Georgia that

there was something very special between you two, but marriage . . . ?"

In Georgia he wanted me to be his submissive, but I won't tell her that.

"Have you set a date?"

"No."

"I wish your father was alive," she whispers. Oh no . . . not this. Not this, now.

"I know, Mom. I would have liked to know him, too."

"He only held you once, and he was so proud. He thought you were the most beautiful

girl in the world." Her voice is a deathly hush as the familiar tale is retold . . . again. She

will be in tears next.

"I know, Mom."

"And then he died." She sniffs, and I know this has set her off as it does every time.

"Mom," I whisper, wanting to reach down the phone and hold her.

"I'm a silly old woman," she murmurs and she sniffs again. "Of course I am happy for

you, darling. Does ghulam know?" she adds, and she seems to have recovered her equilibrium.

"zains just asked him."

"Oh, that's sweet. Good." She sounds melancholic, but she's making an effort.

"Yes, it was," I murmur.

"aliya, darling, I love you so much. I am happy for you. And you must both visit."

"Yes, Mom. I love you, too."

"usman is calling me, I have to go. Let me have a date. We need to plan . . . are you having a big wedding?"

Big wedding, crap. I haven't even thought about that. Big wedding? No. I don't want

a big wedding.

"I don't know yet. As soon as I do, I'll call."

"Good. You take care now and be safe. You two need to have some fun . . . plenty of

time for kids later."

Kids! Hmm . . . and there it is again"a not-so-veiled reference to the fact that she had

me so early."Mom, I didn't really ruin your life, did I?"

She gasps. "Oh no, aliya, never think that. You were the best thing that ever happened

to your father and me. I just wish he was here to see you so grown up and getting married."

She's wistful and maudlin again.

"I wish that, too." I shake my head thinking about my mythical father. "Mom, I'll let

you go. I'll call soon."

"Love you, darling."

"Me, too, Mom. Good-bye."

zains kitchen is a dream to work in. For a man who knows nothing about cooking, he

seems to have everything. I suspect Mrs. Jones loves to cook, too. The only thing I need is

some high quality chocolate for the frosting. I leave the two halves of the cake on a cooling

rack, grab my purse, and pop my head around zains study door. He's concentrating

on his computer screen. He looks up and smiles at me.

"I'm just heading to the store to pick up some ingredients."

"Okay." He frowns at me.

"What?"

"You going to put some jeans on or something?"

Oh, come on. "zain, they're just legs."

He gazes at me, unamused. This is going to be a fight. And it's his birthday. I roll my

eyes at him, feeling like an errant teenager.

"What if we were at the beach?" I take a different tack.

"We're not at the beach."

"Would you object if we were at the beach?"

He considers this for a moment. "No," he says simply.

I roll my eyes again and smirk at him. "Well, just imagine we are. Laters." I turn and

bolt for the foyer. I make it to the elevator before he catches up with me. As the doors close,

I wave at him, grinning sweetly as he watches, helpless"but fortunately amused"with

narrowed eyes. He shakes his head in exasperation, then I can see him no more.

Oh, that was exciting. Adrenaline is pounding through my veins, and my heart feels

like it wants to exit my chest. But as the elevator descends, so do my spirits. Shit, what

have I done?

I have a tiger by the tail. He's going to be mad when I get back. My subconscious is

glaring at me over her half-moon glasses, a willow switch in her hand. Shit. I think about

what little experience I have with men. I've never lived with a man before"well, except

Ray"and for some reason he doesn't count. He's my dad . . . well, the man I consider my

dad.

And now I have zain. He's never really lived with anyone, I think. I'll have to ask

him"if he's still talking to me.

But I feel strongly that I should wear what I like. I remember his rules. Yes, this must

be hard for him, but he sure as hell paid for this dress. He should have given Neimans a

better brief. Nothing too short! This skirt isn't that short, is it? I check in the large mirror in the lobby. Damn. Yes, it is

quite short, but I've made a stand now. And no doubt I'll have to face the consequences. I

wonder idly what he'll do, but first I need cash.

I stare at my receipt from the ATM: $51,689.16. That's fifty thousand dollars too much!

aliya, you're going to have to learn to be rich, too, if you say yes. And so it begins. I

take my paltry fifty dollars and make my way to the store.

I head straight to the kitchen when I arrive back, and I can't help feeling a frisson of alarm.

zain is still in his study. Jeez, that's most of the afternoon. I decide my best option is

to face him and see how much damage I've done. I peek cautiously around his study door.

He's on the phone, staring out the window.

"And the Eurocopter specialist is due Monday afternoon? . . . Good. Just keep me

informed. Tell them that I'll need their initial findings either Monday evening or Tuesday

morning." He hangs up and swivels his chair round, but stills when he sees me, his expression impassive.

"Hi," I whisper. He says nothing, and my heart free-falls into my stomach. Gingerly I

walk into his study and around his desk to where he's sitting. He still says nothing, his eyes

never leaving mine. I stand in front of him, feeling fifty shades of foolish.

"I'm back. Are you mad at me?"

He sighs, reaches out for my hand, and pulls me into his lap, folding his arms around

me. He buries his nose in my hair.

"Yes," he says.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." I curl up in his lap inhaling his heavenly

zain smell, feeling safe regardless of the fact that he's mad.

"Me neither. Wear what you like," he murmurs. He runs his hand up my bare leg to my

thigh. "Besides, this dress has its advantages." He bends to kiss me, and as our lips touch,

passion or lust or a deep-seated need to make amends lances through me and desire flares in

my blood. I seize his head in my hands, fisting my fingers in his hair. He groans as his body

responds, and he hungrily nips at my lower lip"my throat, my ear, his tongue invading

my mouth, and before I'm even aware of it he's unzipping his pants, pulling me astride his

lap, and sinking into me. I grasp the back of the chair, my feet just touching the ground . . .

and we start to move.

"I like your version of sorry," he breathes into my hair.

"And I like yours," I giggle, snuggling against his chest. "Have you finished?"

"Christ, aliya, you want more?"

"No! Your work."

"I'll be done in about half an hour. I heard your message on my voicemail."

"From yesterday."

"You sounded worried."

I hug him tightly.

"I was. It's not like you not to respond."

He kisses my hair.

"Your cake should be ready in half an hour." I smile at him and climb off his lap.

"Looking forward to it. It smelled delicious, evocative even, while it was baking."

I smile shyly down at him, feeling a little self-conscious, and he mirrors my expression. Jeez, are we really so different? Perhaps it's his early memories of baking. Leaning

down, I plant a swift kiss on the corner of his mouth and make my way back to the kitchen.

I am all prepared when I hear him come out of his study, and I light the solitary gold candle

on his cake. He gives me an ear-splitting grin as he saunters toward me, and I softly sing

Happy Birthday to him. Then he leans over and blows it out, closing his eyes.

"I've made my wish," he says as he opens them again, and for some reason his look

makes me flush.

"The frosting is still soft. I hope you like it."

"I can't wait to taste it, aliya," he murmurs, and he makes that sound so rude. I cut

us each a slice, and we dig in with small pastry forks.

"Mmm," he groans in appreciation. "This is why I want to marry you."

And I laugh with relief . . . he likes it.

"Ready to face my family?" zain switches the R8 ignition off. We're parked in his

parents' driveway.

"Yes. Are you going to tell them?"

"Of course. I'm looking forward to seeing their reactions." He smiles wickedly at me

and climbs out of the car.

It is seven thirty, and though it's been a warm day, there's a cool evening breeze blowing off the bay. I pull my wrap around me as I step out of the car. I'm wearing an emerald

green cocktail dress I found this morning while I was rummaging through the closet. It

has a wide matching belt. zain takes my hand, and we head to the front door. usman

opens it wide before he can knock.

"zain, hello. Happy birthday, son." He takes zain's proffered hand but pulls

him into a brief hug, surprising him.

"Er . . . thanks, Dad."

"aliya, how lovely to see you again." He hugs me, too, and we follow him into the

house.

Before we can set foot in the living room, yasmin comes barreling down the hallway

toward the two of us. She looks furious.

Oh no!"You two! I want to talk to you." She snarls in her you-better-not-f**king-mess-withme voice. I glance nervously at zain, who shrugs and decides to humor her as we follow her into the dining room, leaving usman bemused on the threshold of the living room.

She shuts the door and turns on me.

"What the f**k is this?" she hisses and waves a piece of paper at me. Completely at

a loss, I take it from her and scan it quickly. My mouth dries. Holy shit. It's my e-mail response to zain, discussing the contract.

Chap22

All the color drains from my face as my blood turns to ice and fear lances through my body.

Instinctively I step between her and zain.

"What is it?" zain murmurs, his tone wary.

I ignore him. I cannot believe yasmin is doing this.

"yasmin! This is nothing to do with you." I glare venomously at her, anger replacing my

fear. How dare she do this? Not now, not today. Not on zains birthday. Surprised by

my response, she blinks at me, green eyes wide.

"aliya, what is it?" zain says again, his tone more menacing.

"zain, would you just go, please?" I ask him.

"No. Show me." He holds out his hand, and I know he's not to be argued with"his

voice is cold and hard. Reluctantly I give him the e-mail.

"What's he done to you?" yasmin asks, ignoring zain. She looks so apprehensive. I

flush as a myriad of erotic images flit quickly across my mind.

"That's none of your business, yasmin." I can't keep the exasperation out of my voice.

"Where did you get this?" zain asks, his head cocked to one side, his face expressionless, but his voice . . . so menacingly soft. yasmin flushes."That's irrelevant." At his stony glare, she hastily continues. "It was in the pocket of a

jacket"which I assume is yours"that I found on the back of aliya's bedroom door." Faced

with zains burning gray gaze, yasmins steeliness slips a little, but she seems to recover

and scowls at him.

She's a beacon of hostility in a slinky, bright red dress. She looks magnificent. But

what the hell is she going through my clothes for? It's usually the other way round.

"Have you told anyone?" zains voice is like a silk glove.

"No! Of course not," yasmin snaps, affronted. zain nods and appears to relax. He

turns and heads toward the fireplace. Wordlessly yasmin and I watch as he picks up a lighter

from the mantelpiece, sets fire to the e-mail, and releases it, letting it float afire slowly into

the grate until it is no more. The silence in the room is oppressive.

"Not even harshad?" I ask, turning my attention back to yasmin.

"No one," yasmin says emphatically, and for the first time she looks puzzled and hurt. "I

just want to know you're okay, aliya," she whispers.

"I'm fine, yasmin. More than fine. Please, zain and I are good, really good"this is

old news. Please ignore it."

"Ignore it?" she says. "How can I ignore that? What's he done to you?" And her green

eyes are so full of heartfelt concern.

"He hasn't done anything to me, yasmin. Honestly"I'm good."

She blinks at me.

"Really?" she asks.

zain wraps an arm around me and draws me close, not taking his eyes off yasmin.

"aliya has consented to be my wife, yasmin," he says quietly.

"Wife!" yasmin squeaks, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"We're getting married. We're going to announce our engagement this evening," he

says.

"Oh!" yasmin gapes at me. She's stunned. "I leave you alone for sixteen days, and this

happens? It's very sudden. So yesterday, when I said"" She gazes at me, lost. "Where

does that e-mail fit into all this?"

"It doesn't, yasmin. Forget it"please. I love him and he loves me. Don't do this. Don't

ruin his party and our night," I whisper. She blinks and unexpectedly her eyes are shining

with tears.

"No. Of course I won't. You're okay?" She wants reassurance.

"I've never been happier," I whisper. She reaches forward and grabs my hand regardless of zains arm wrapped around me.

"You really are okay?" she asks hopefully.

"Yes." I grin at her, my joy returning. She's back onside. She smiles at me, my happiness reflecting back on her. I step out of zains hold, and she hugs me suddenly.

"Oh, aliya"I was so worried when I read this. I didn't know what to think. Will you

explain it to me?" she whispers.

"One day, not now."

"Good. I won't tell anyone. I love you so much, aliya, like my own sister. I just

thought . . . I didn't know what to think. I'm sorry. If you're happy, then I'm happy." She looks directly at zain and repeats her apology. He nods at her, his eyes glacial, and his

expression does not change. Oh shit, he's still mad.

"I really am sorry. You're right, it's none of my business," she whispers to me.

There's a knock on the door that startles yasmin and I apart. suraiyya pokes her head around.

"Everything okay, darling?" she asks zain.

"Everything's fine, Mrs. abdullah," yasmin says immediately.

"Fine, Mom," zain says.

"Good." suraiyya enters. "Then you won't mind if I give my son a birthday hug." She

beams at both of us. He hugs her tightly and thaws immediately.

"Happy birthday, darling," she says softly, closing her eyes in his embrace. "I'm so

glad you're still with us."

"Mom, I'm fine." zain smiles down at her. She pulls back, looks at him closely,

and grins.

"I'm so happy for you," she says and caresses his face.

He grins at her"his thousand megawatt smile.

She knows! When did he tell her?

"Well, kids, if you've all finished your tte--tte, there's a throng of people here to

check that you really are in one piece, zain, and to wish you a happy birthday."

"I'll be right there."

suraiyya glances anxiously at yasmin and me and seems reassured by our smiles. She winks

at me as she holds the door open for us. zain holds out his hand to me and I take it.

"zain, I really do apologize," yasmin says humbly. Humble yasmin is something to

behold. zain nods at her, and we follow her out.

In the hallway, I gaze anxiously up at zain. "Does your mother know about us?"

"Yes."

"Oh." And to think our evening could have been derailed by the tenacious Miss khan. I shudder at the thought"the ramifications of zain's lifestyle revealed to all.

Holy cow.

"Well, that was an interesting start to the evening." I smile sweetly at him. He glances

down at me"and it's back, his amused look. Thank heavens.

"As ever, Miss haider, you have a gift for understatement." He raises my hand to his

lips and kisses my knuckles as we walk into the living room to a sudden, spontaneous, and

deafening round of applause.

Crap. How many people are here?

I scan the room quickly: all the abdullahs, bilal with barkat, Dr. Flynn and his wife, I assume. There's Mac from the boat, a tall, handsome African American"I remember seeing

him in zains office the first time I met zain"barkat's bitchy friend Lily, two women I don't recognize at all, and . . . Oh no. My heart sinks. That woman . . . Mrs. Robinson.

Gretchen materializes with a tray of champagne. She's in a low-cut black dress, no

pigtails but an updo, flushing and fluttering her eyelashes at zain. The applause dies

down, and zain squeezes my hand as all eyes turn to him expectantly.

"Thank you, everyone. Looks like I'll need one of these." He grabs two drinks off

Gretchen's tray and gives her a brief smile. I think Gretchen's going to expire or swoon.

He hands a glass to me.zain raises his glass to the rest of the room, and immediately everyone surges forward. Leading the charge is the evil woman in black. Does she ever wear any other color?

"zain, I was so worried." Elena gives him a brief hug and kisses both his cheeks.

He doesn't let me go despite the fact I try to free my hand.

"I'm good, Elena," zain mutters coolly.

"Why didn't you call me?" Her plea is desperate, her eyes searching his.

"I've been busy."

"Didn't you get my messages?"

zain shifts uncomfortably and pulls me closer, putting his arm around me. His

face remains impassive as he regards Elena. She can no longer ignore me, so she nods

politely in my direction.

"aliya," she purrs. "You look lovely, dear."

"Elena," I purr back. "Thank you."

I catch suraiyya's eye. She frowns, watching the three of us.

"Elena, I need to make an announcement," zain says, eyeing her dispassionately.

Her clear blue eyes cloud. "Of course." She fakes a smile and steps back.

"Everyone," zain calls. He waits for a moment until the buzz in the room dies

down and all eyes are once more on him.

"Thank you for coming today. I have to say I was expecting a quiet family dinner, so

this is a pleasant surprise." He stares pointedly at barkat, who grins and gives him a little

wave. zain shakes his head in exasperation and continues.

"Ros and I""he acknowledges the red-haired woman standing nearby with a small

bubbly blonde""we had a close call yesterday."

Oh, that's the Ros that works with him. She grins and raises her glass to him. He nods

back at her.

"So I'm especially glad to be here today to share with all of you my very good news.

This beautiful woman""he glances down at me""Miss Aliya Ghulam Haider, has consented to be my wife, and I'd like you to be the first to know."

There are general gasps of astonishment, the odd cheer, and then a round of applause!

Jeez"this is really happening. I think I am the color of yasmins dress. zain grasps my

chin, lifts my lips to his, and kisses me quickly.

"You'll soon be mine."

"I am already," I whisper.

"Legally," he mouths at me and gives me a wicked grin.

Lily, who is standing beside barkat, looks crestfallen; Gretchen looks like she's eaten

something nasty and bitter. As I glance anxiously around at the assembled crowd, I catch

sight of Elena. Her mouth is open. She's stunned"horrified even, and I can't help a small

but intense feeling of satisfaction to see her dumbstruck. What the hell is she doing here,

anyway?

Usman and suraiyya interrupt my uncharitable thoughts, and soon I am being hugged and

kissed and passed around by all the abdullahs.

"Oh, aliya"I am so delighted you're going to be family," suraiyya gushes. "The change in

zain . . . He's . . . happy. I am so thankful to you." I blush, embarrassed by her exuberance but secretly delighted, too."Where is the ring?" exclaims barkat as she embraces me.

"Um . . ." A ring! Jeez. I hadn't even thought about a ring. I glance anxiously up at

zain.

"We're going to choose one together." zain glowers at her.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, abdullah!" she scolds him, then wraps her arms around

him. "I'm so thrilled for you, zain," she says. She's the only person I know who is not

intimidated by the abdullah glower. It has me quailing . . . Well, it certainly used to.

"When will you get married? Have you set a date?" She beams up at zain.

He shakes his head, his exasperation palpable. "No idea, and no we haven't. aliya and I

need to discuss all that," he says irritably.

"I hope you have a big wedding"here," she beams enthusiastically, ignoring his caustic tone.

"We'll probably fly to Vegas tomorrow," he growls at her, and he's rewarded with a

full-on barkat abdullah pouty grimace. Rolling his eyes, he turns to harshad, who gives him his

second bear hug in as many days.

"Way to go, bro." He claps zains back.

The response from the room is overwhelming, and it's a few minutes before I find myself back beside zain with Dr. Flynn. Elena seems to have disappeared, and Gretchen

is sullenly refilling champagne glasses.

Beside Dr. Flynn is a striking young woman with long, dark, almost black hair, cleavage, and lovely hazel eyes.

"zain," says Flynn, holding out his hand. zain shakes it gladly.

"John. Rhian." He kisses the dark-haired woman on her cheek. She's petite and pretty.

"Glad you're still with us, zain. My life would be most dull"and penurious"

without you."

zain smirks.

"John!" Rhian scolds, much to zains amusement.

"Rhian, this is aliya, my fiance. aliya, this is John's wife."

"Delighted to meet the woman who has finally captured zains heart." Rhian

smiles kindly at me.

"Thank you," I mutter, embarrassed again.

"That was one googly you bowled there, zain," Dr. Flynn shakes his head in

amused disbelief. zain frowns at him.

"John"you and your cricket metaphors." Rhian rolls her eyes. "Congratulations to the

pair of you and happy birthday, zain. What a wonderful birthday present." She smiles

broadly at me.

I had no idea Dr. Flynn would be here, or Elena. It's a shock, and I rack my brains to

see if I have anything to ask him, but a birthday party hardly seems the appropriate venue

for a psychiatric consult.

For a few minutes, we make small talk. Rhian is a stay-at-home mom with two young

boys. I deduce that she is the reason Dr. Flynn practices in the US.

"She's good, zain, responding well to treatment. Another couple of weeks and

we can consider an out-patient program." Dr. Flynn's and zains voices are low, but I

can't help listening in, rather rudely tuning out Rhian."So it's all play-dates and diapers at the moment . . ."

"That must take up your time." I flush, turning my attention back to Rhian, who laughs

sweetly. I know zain and Flynn are discussing Leila.

"Ask her something for me," zain murmurs.

"So what do you do, aliya?"

"I work in publishing."

zain and Dr. Flynn lower their voices further; it's so frustrating. But they stop

when we're joined by the two women I didn't recognize earlier"Ros and the bubbly

blonde whom zain introduces as her partner, Gwen.

Ros is charming, and I soon discover they live almost opposite Escala. She is full of

praise for zains piloting skills. It was her first time in Charlie Tango, and she says she

wouldn't hesitate to go again. She's one of the few women I've met who isn't dazzled by

him . . . well, the reason is obvious.

Gwen is giggly with a wry sense of humor, and zain seems extraordinarily at ease

with both of them. He knows them well. They don't discuss work, but I can tell that Ros

is one smart woman who can easily keep up with him. She also has a great, throaty, toomany-cigarettes laugh.

suraiyya interrupts our leisurely conversation to inform everyone that dinner is being

served buffet-style in the abdullah kitchen. Slowly the guests make their way toward the back

of the house.

barkat collars me in the hallway. In her pale pink, frothy babydoll dress and killer heels,

she towers over me like a Christmas tree fairy. She's holding two cocktail glasses.

"aliya," she hisses conspiratorially. I glance up at zain, who releases me with a

best-of-luck-I-find-her-impossible-to-deal-with-too look, and I sneak into the dining room

with her.

"Here," she says mischievously. "This is one of my dad's special lemon martinis"

much nicer than champagne." She hands me a glass and watches anxiously while I take a

tentative sip.

"Hmm . . . delicious. But strong." What does she want? Is she trying to get me drunk?

"aliya, I need some advice. And I can't ask Lily"she's so judgmental about everything." barkat rolls her eyes then grins at me. "She is so jealous of you. I think she was hoping

one day that she and zain might get together." barkat bursts out laughing at the absurdity,

and I quail inside.

This is something I will have to contend with for a long time"other women wanting

my man. I push the unwelcome thought out of my head and distract myself with the matter

in hand. I take another sip of my martini.

"I'll try and help. Fire away."

"As you know, bilal and I met recently, thanks to you." She beams at me.

"Yes." Where the hell is she going with this?

"aliya"he doesn't want to date me." She pouts.

"Oh." I blink at her, stunned, and I think, Maybe he's just not that into you.

"Look, that sounded all wrong. He doesn't want to date because his sister is going out

with my brother. You know"he thinks it's all kind of incestuous. But I know he likes me.

What can I do?"

"Oh, I see," I mutter, trying to buy myself some time. What can I say? "Can you agree

to be friends and give it some time? I mean you've only just met him."

She cocks her eyebrow and I flush.

"Look, I know I've only really just met zain but . . ." I scowl at her not sure what

I want to say. "barkat, this is something you and bilal have to work out together. I would try

the friendship route."

barkat grins.

"You've learned that look from zain."

I flush. "If you want advice, ask yasmin. She may have some insight as to how her brother

feels."

"You think?" barkat asks.

"Yes." I smile encouragingly.

"Cool. Thanks, aliya." She gives me another hug and scuttles excitedly"and impressively, given her high heels"to the door, no doubt off to bother yasmin. I take another sip of

my martini, and I'm about to follow her when I am stopped in my tracks.

Elena breezes into the room, her face taut, set in grim, angry determination. She closes

the door quietly behind her and scowls at me.

Oh crap.

"aliya," she sneers.

I summon all my self-possession, slightly fuzzy from two glasses of champagne and

the lethal cocktail I hold in my hand. I think the blood has drained from my face, but I

marshal both my subconscious and my inner goddess in order to appear as calm and as

unflappable as I can.

"Elena." My voice is small, but steady"despite my dry mouth. Why does this woman

freak me out so much? And what does she want now?

"I would offer you my heartfelt congratulations, but I think that would be inappropriate." Her piercing cold blue eyes stare frostily into mine, filled with loathing.

"I neither need nor want your congratulations, Elena. I'm surprised and disappointed

to see you here."

She arches an eyebrow. I think she's impressed.

"I wouldn't have thought of you as a worthy adversary, aliya. But you surprise me

at every turn."

"I haven't thought of you at all," I lie, coolly. zain would be proud. "Now if you'll

excuse me, I have much better things to do than waste my time with you."

"Not so fast, missy," she hisses, leaning against the door, effectively blocking it. "What

on earth do you think you're doing, consenting to marry zain? If you think for one

minute you can make him happy, you're very much mistaken."

"What I'm consenting to do with zain is none of your concern." I smile with sarcastic sweetness. She ignores me.

"He has needs"needs you cannot possibly begin to satisfy," she gloats.

"What do you know of his needs?" I snarl. My sense of indignation flares brightly,

burning inside me as adrenaline surges through my body. How dare this f**king bitch

preach to me? "You're nothing but a sick child molester, and if it was up to me, I'd toss you into the seventh circle of hell and walk away smiling. Now get out of my way"or do

I have to make you?"

"You're making a big mistake here, lady." She shakes a long, skinny, finely manicured

finger at me. "How dare you judge our lifestyle? You know nothing, and you have no idea

what you're getting yourself into. And if you think he's going to be happy with a mousy

little gold-digger like you . . ."

That's it! I throw the rest of my lemon martini in her face, drenching her.

"Don't you dare tell me what I'm getting myself into!" I shout at her. "When will you

learn? It's none of your goddamned business!"

She gapes at me, horror struck, wiping the sticky drink off her face. I think she's about

to lunge at me, but she's suddenly shunted forward as the door opens.

zain is standing in the doorway. It takes him a nanosecond to assess the situation"me ashen and shaking, her soaked and livid. His lovely face darkens and contorts

with anger as he comes to stand between us.

"What the f**k are you doing, Elena?" he says, his voice glacial and laced with menace.

She blinks up at him. "She's not right for you, zain," she whispers.

"What?" he shouts, startling both of us. I can't see his face but his whole body has

tensed, and he radiates animosity.

"How the f**k do you know what's right for me?"

"You have needs, zain," she says her voice softer.

"I've told you before"this is none of your f**king business," he roars. Oh crap"Very

Angry zain has reared his not-so-ugly head. People are going to hear.

"What is this?" He pauses, glaring at her. "Do you think it's you? You? You think

you're right for me?" His voice is softer but drips contempt, and suddenly I don't want to

be here. I don't want to witness this intimate encounter. I'm intruding. But I'm stuck"my

limbs unwilling to move.

Elena swallows and seems to draw herself upright. Her stance changes subtly, becomes

more commanding, and she steps toward him.

"I was the best thing that ever happened to you," she hisses arrogantly at him. "Look

at you now. One of the richest, most successful, entrepreneurs in the US"controlled, driven"you need nothing. You are master of your universe."

He steps back as if he's been struck and gapes at her in outraged disbelief.

"You loved it, zain, don't try and kid yourself. You were on the road to self-destruction, and I saved you from that, saved you from a life behind bars. Believe me, baby,

that's where you would have ended up. I taught you everything you know, everything you

need."

zain blanches, staring at her in horror. When he speaks, his voice is low and incredulous.

"You taught me how to f**k, Elena. But it's empty, like you. No wonder Linc left."

Bile rises in my mouth. I should not be here. But I'm frozen to the spot, morbidly fascinated as they eviscerate each other.

"You never once held me," zain whispers. "You never once said you loved me."

She narrows her eyes. "Love is for fools, zain."

"Get out of my house." Suraiyya's implacable, furious voice startles us. Three heads

swing rapidly to where suraiyya stands on the threshold of the room. She is glaring at Elena,

who pales beneath her St. Tropez tan.

Time seems suspended as we collectively take a deep gasping breath, and suraiyya stalks

deliberately into the room. Her eyes blaze with fury, never once leaving Elena, until she

stands before her. Elena's eyes widen in alarm, and suraiyya slaps her hard across the face,

the sound of the impact resounding off the walls of the dining room.

"Take your filthy paws off my son, you wh**e, and get out of my house"now!" she

hisses through gritted teeth.

Elena clutches her reddening cheek and stares in horror for a moment, shocked and

blinking at suraiyya. Then she hurries from the room, not bothering to close the door behind

her.

suraiyya turns slowly to face zain and a tense silence settles like a thick blanket over

us as zain and suraiyya stare at each other. After a beat, suraiyya speaks.

"aliya, before I hand him over to you, would you mind giving me a minute or two alone

with my son?" Her voice is quiet, husky, but oh-so-strong.

"Of course," I whisper, and exit as quickly as I can, glancing anxiously over my shoulder. But neither of them look at me as I leave. They continue to stare at each other, their

unspoken communication blaringly loud.

In the hallway, I am momentarily lost. My heart pounds and my blood races through

my veins . . . I feel panicked and out of my depth. Holy f**k, that was heavy and now suraiyya

knows. Crap. I can't think what she's going to say to zain, and I know it's wrong, I

know, but I lean against the door trying to listen.

"How long, zain?" suraiyya's voice is soft. I can barely hear her.

I cannot hear his reply.

"How old were you?" Her voice is more insistent. "Tell me. How old were you when

this all started?" Again I can't hear zain.

"Everything okay, aliya?" Ros interrupts me.

"Yes. Fine. Thank you. I . . ."

Ros smiles. "I'm just going to fetch my purse. I need a cigarette."

For a brief moment, I contemplate joining her.

"I'm off to the bathroom." I need to gather my wits and my thoughts, to process what

I've just witnessed and heard. Upstairs seems the safest place to be on my own. I watch

Ros stroll into the drawing room, and I bolt two stairs at a time to the second floor, then up

to the third. There's only one place I want to be.

I open the door to zains childhood bedroom and shut it behind me, taking a huge

gulping breath. Heading for his bed, I flop onto it and stare at the plain white ceiling.

Holy cow. That has to be, without doubt, one of the most excruciating confrontations

I've ever had to endure, and now I feel numb. My fianc and his ex-lover"no would-be

bride should have to see that. Having said that, part of me is glad she's revealed her true

self, and that I was there to bear witness.

My thoughts turn to suraiyya. Poor suraiyya, to hear all that. I clutch one of zains pillows. She'll have overheard that zain and Elena had an affair"but not the nature of

it. Thank heavens. I groan.What am I doing? Perhaps the evil witch had a point.

No, I refuse to believe that. She's so cold and cruel. I shake my head. She's wrong. I am

right for zain. I am what he needs. And in a moment of stunning clarity, I don't question how he's lived his life until recently"but why. His reasons for doing what he's done to

countless girls"I don't even want to know how many. The how isn't wrong. They were all

adults. They were all"how did Flynn put it?"in safe, sane, consensual relationships. It's

the why. The why was wrong. The why was from his place of darkness.

I close my eyes and drape my arm over them. But now he's moved on, left it behind,

and we are both in the light. I'm dazzled by him and he by me. We can guide each other. A

thought occurs to me. Shit! A gnawing, insidious thought and I'm in the one place where I

can lay this ghost to rest. I sit up. Yes, I must do this.

Shakily I get to my feet, kick off my shoes, walk over to his desk, and examine the pin

board above it. The photos of young zain are all still there"more poignant than ever

as I think of the spectacle I've just witnessed between him and Mrs. Robinson. And there

in the corner is the small black and white photo"his mother, the crack wh**e.

I switch on the desk lamp and focus the light on her picture. I don't even know her

name. She looks so much like him but younger and sadder and all I feel, looking at her sorrowful face, is compassion. I try to see the similarities between her face and mine. I squint

at the picture, getting really, really close, and see none. Except maybe our hair, but I think

hers is lighter than mine. I don't look like her at all. It's a relief.

My subconscious tuts at me, arms crossed, glaring over her half-moon glasses. Why

are you torturing yourself? You've said yes. You've made your bed. I purse my lips at her.

Yes I have, gladly so. I want to lie in that bed with zain for the rest of my life. My inner goddess, sitting in the lotus position, smiles serenely. Yes. I've made the right decision.

I must find him"zain will be worried. I have no idea how long I've been in his

room; he'll think that I've fled. I roll my eyes as I contemplate his overreaction. I hope that

he and suraiyya have finished. I shudder to think what else she might have said to him.

I meet zain as he climbs the stairs to the second floor, looking for me. His face

is strained and weary"not the carefree Fifty I arrived with. As I stand on the landing, he

stops on the top stair so that we are eye to eye.

"Hi," he says cautiously.

"Hi," I answer warily.

"I was worried""

"I know," I interrupt him. "I'm sorry"I couldn't face the festivities. I just had to get

away, you know. To think." Reaching up, I caress his face. He closes his eyes and leans his

face into my hand.

"And you thought you'd do that in my room?"

"Yes."

He reaches for my hand and pulls me into an embrace, and I go willingly into his arms,

my favorite place in the whole world. He smells of fresh laundry, body wash, and zain"the most calming and arousing scent on the planet. He inhales with his nose in my

hair.

"I'm sorry you had to endure all that."

"It's not your fault, zain. Why was she here?" He gazes down at me, and his

mouth curls apologetically.

"She's a family friend."

I try not to react. "Not any more. How's your mom?"

"Mom is pretty f**king mad at me right now. I'm really glad you're here, and that

we're in the middle of a party. Otherwise I might be breathing my last."

"That bad, huh?"

He nods, his eyes serious, and I sense his bewilderment at her reaction.

"Can you blame her?" My voice is quiet, cajoling.

He hugs me tightly and he seems uncertain, processing his thoughts.

Finally he answers. "No."

Whoa! Breakthrough. "Can we sit?" I ask.

"Sure. Here?"

I nod and we both sit at the top of the stairs.

"So, how do you feel?" I ask, anxiously clutching his hand and gazing at his sad, serious face.

He sighs.

"I feel liberated." He shrugs, then beams"a glorious, carefree zain smile, and the

weariness and strain present moments ago have vanished.

"Really?" I beam back. Wow, I'd crawl over broken glass for that smile.

"Our business relationship is over. Done."

I frown at him. "Will you liquidate the salon business?"

He snorts. "I'm not that vindictive, aliya," he admonishes me. "No. I'll gift them

to her. I'll talk to my lawyer Monday. I owe her that much."

I arch an eyebrow at him. "No more Mrs. Robinson?" His mouth twists in amusement

and he shakes his head.

"Gone."

I grin.

"I'm sorry you lost a friend."

He shrugs then smirks. "Are you?"

"No," I confess, flushing.

"Come." He stands and offers me his hand. "Let's join the party in our honor. I might

even get drunk."

"Do you get drunk?" I ask as I take his hand.

"Not since I was a wild teenager." We walk down the stairs.

"Have you eaten?" he asks.

Oh crap.

"No."

"Well you should. From the look and smell of Elena, that was one of my father's lethal

cocktails you threw over her." He gazes at me, trying and failing to keep the amusement

off his face.

"zain, I""

He holds up his hand."No arguing, aliya. If you're going to drink"and throw alcohol over my exes"

you need to eat. It's rule number one. I believe we've already had that discussion after our

first night together."

Oh yes. The Heathman.

Back in the hallway, he pauses to caress my face, his fingers skimming my jaw.

"I lay awake for hours and watched you sleep," he murmurs. "I might have loved you

even then."

Oh.

He leans down and kisses me softly, and I melt everywhere, all the tension of the last

hour or so seeping languidly from my body.

"Eat," he whispers.

"Okay," I acquiesce because right now I'd probably do anything for him. Taking my

hand, he leads me toward the kitchen where the party is in full swing.

"Goodnight, John, Rhian."

"Congratulations again, aliya. You two will be just fine." Dr. Flynn smiles kindly at us,

standing arm in arm in the hallway as he and Rhian take their leave.

"Goodnight."

zain closes the door and shakes his head. He gazes down at me, his eyes suddenly

bright with excitement.

What's this?

"Just the family left. I think my mother has had too much to drink." suraiyya is singing

karaoke on some game console in the family room. yasmin and barkat are giving her a run for

her money.

"Do you blame her?" I smirk at him, trying to keep the atmosphere between us light.

I succeed.

"Are you smirking at me, Miss haider?"

"I am."

"It's been quite a day."

"zain, recently, every day with you has been quite a day." My voice is sardonic.

He shakes his head. "Fair point well made, Miss haider. Come"I want to show you

something." Taking my hand, he leads me through the house to the kitchen where usman, bilal, and harshad are talking Mariners, drinking the last of the cocktails, and eating

leftovers.

"Off for a stroll?" harshad teases suggestively as we make our way through the French

doors. zain ignores him. usman frowns at harshad, shaking his head in a silent rebuke.

As we make our way up the steps to the lawn, I take off my shoes. The half-moon

shines brightly over the bay. It's brilliant, casting everything in myriad of shades of gray

as the lights of Seattle twinkle sweetly in the distance. The lights of the boathouse are on,

a soft glowing beacon in the cool cast of the moon.

"zain, I'd like to go to the dargah tomorrow."

"Oh?"

"I prayed you'd come back alive and you did. It's the least I could do."

"Okay."

We wander hand in hand in a relaxed silence for a few moments. Then something occurs to me.

"Where are you going to put the photos rehaan took of me?"

"I thought we might put them in the new house."

"You bought it?"

He stops to stare at me, and his voice full of concern. "Yes. I thought you liked it."

"I do. When did you buy it?"

"Yesterday morning. Now we need to decide what to do with it," he murmurs, relieved.

"Don't knock it down. Please. It's such a lovely house. It just needs some tender loving

care."

zain glances at me and smiles. "Okay. I'll talk to harshad. He knows a good architect; she did some work on my place is Aspen. He can do the remodeling."

I snort, suddenly remembering the last time we crossed the lawn under the moonlight

to the boathouse. Oh, perhaps that's what we're going to do now. I grin.

"What?"

"I remember the last time you took me to the boathouse."

zain chuckles quietly. "Oh, that was fun. In fact . . ." He suddenly stops and

scoops me over his shoulder, and I squeal, though we don't have far to go.

"You were really angry, if I remember correctly," I gasp.

"aliya, I'm always really angry."

"No you're not."

He swats my behind as he stops outside the wooden door. He slides me down his body

back to the ground and takes my head in his hands.

"No, not anymore." Leaning down, he kisses me, hard. When he pulls away, I'm

breathless and desire is racing round my body.

He gazes down at me, and in the glow of the strip of light coming from inside the

boathouse, I can see he's anxious. My anxious man, not a white knight or a dark knight, but

a man"a beautiful, not-quite-so-f**ked-up man"whom I love. I reach up and caress his

face, running my fingers through his sideburns and along his jaw to his chin, then let my

index finger touch his lips. He relaxes.

"I've something to show you in here," he murmurs and opens the door.

The harsh light of the fluorescents illuminates the impressive motor launch in the dock,

bobbing gently on the dark water. There's a row boat beside it.

"Come." zain takes my hand and leads me up the wooden stairs. Opening the door

at the top, he steps aside to let me in.

My mouth drops to the floor. The attic is unrecognizable. The room is filled with flowers . . . there are flowers everywhere. Someone has created a magical bower of beautiful

wild meadow flowers mixed with glowing fairy lights and miniature lanterns that glow soft

and pale round the room.

My face whips round to meet his, and he's gazing at me, his expression unreadable.

He shrugs.

"You wanted hearts and flowers," he murmurs.I blink at him, not quite believing what I'm seeing.

"You have my heart." And he waves toward the room.

"And here are the flowers," I whisper, completing his sentence. "zain, it's lovely."

I can't think of what else to say. My heart is in my mouth as tears prick my eyes.

Tugging my hand, he pulls me into the room, and before I know it, he's sinking to one

knee in front of me. Holy hell . . . I did not expect this! I stop breathing.

From his inside jacket pocket he produces a ring and gazes up at me, his eyes bright

gray and raw, full of emotion.

"aliya haider. I love you. I want to love, cherish, and protect you for the rest of my

life. Be mine. Always. Share my life with me. Marry me."

I blink down at him as my tears fall. My Fifty, my man. I love him so, and all I can say

as the tidal wave of emotion hits me is, "Yes."

He grins, relieved, and slowly slides the ring on my finger. It's beautiful, an oval diamond in a platinum ring. Jeez"it's big . . . Big, but oh-so-simple and stunning in its simplicity.

"Oh, zain," I sob, suddenly overwhelmed with joy, and I join him on my knees,

my fingers fisting in his hair as I kiss him, kiss him with all my heart and soul. Kiss this

beautiful man, who loves me as I love him; and as he wraps his arms around me, his hands

moving to my hair, his mouth on mine. I know deep down I will always be his, and he will

always be mine. We've come so far together, we have so far to go, but we are made for each

other. We are meant to be.

The cigarette end glows brightly in the darkness as he takes a deep pull. He blows the

smoke out in a long exhale, finishing with two smoke rings that dissolve in front of him,

pale and ghostly in the moonlight. He shifts in his seat, bored, and takes a quick shot of

cheap bourbon from a bottle wrapped in shabby brown paper before resting it back between his thighs.

He can't believe he's still on the trail. His mouth twists in a sardonic sneer. The helicopter had been a rash and bold move. One of the most exhilarating things he'd ever done

in his life. But to no avail. He rolls his eyes ironically. Who would have thought the son-ofa-bitch could actually fly the f**ker?

He snorts.

They have underestimated him. If abdullah thought for one minute he'd go whimpering

quietly into the dusk, that prick didn't know jack shit.

It had been the same all his life. People constantly underestimating him"just a man

who reads books. f**k that! A man with a photographic memory who reads books. Oh, the things he's learned, the things he knows. He snorts again"Yeah, about you, abdullah. The

things I know about you.

Not bad for a kid from the gutter end of Detroit.

Not bad for the kid who won a scholarship to Princeton.

Not bad for the kid who worked his ass off through college and got into publishing.

And now all of that's f**ked, f**ked because of abdullah and his little bitch. He scowls

at the house as if it represents everything he despises. But there's nothing doing. The only

drama had been the stacked, blond broad in black, teetering down the driveway in tears

before she climbed into the white CLK and f**ked off.

He chuckles mirthlessly, then winces. f**k, his ribs. Still sore from the swift kicking

Abdullah's henchman delivered.

He replays the scene in his mind. "You f**king touch Miss Steele again, I'll f**king

kill you."

That motherf**ker will get it good, too. Yeah"get what's coming to him.

He settles back in his seat. Looks like it's going to be a long night. He'll stay, watch,

and wait. He takes another toke of his Marlboro red. His chance will come. His chance will

come soon.

End of part two...

OMG GUYS

U know I should say u doing a great job Ty for putting it up now waiting for the last soon I want it soon pls in fact I want to read before the movie realease So pls k try

hatts off to you you wrote so long three chapter's in one go.
love all part.
zain proposed part was really beautiful.
thanks for pm.
waiting for last & third part.

Omg, I loved it ALL!! Are you doing a Fifty Shades Freed? Hope so, well done girl 😛