50 Shades Darker- LAST 4 chaps on pg 13..8th Feb - Page 5

Originally posted by: katmaan

Hotness in the end

Omg he has gone through lot of pain

Next their cute kitkit in zaya words

And her getting mad at him love them all

Love zain

Chap6

My hands fist in his hair while my mouth is feverish against zain's, consuming him,

relishing the feel of his tongue against mine. And he's the same, devouring me. It's heavenly.

Suddenly he drags me up and grasps the hem of my T-shirt, whipping it over my head

and throwing it on the floor.

"I want to feel you," he says greedily against my mouth as his hands move behind me

to undo my bra. In one smooth move, it's off and he pitches it aside.

He pushes me back down onto the bed, pressing me into the mattress, and his mouth

and hand move to my breasts. My fingers curl into his hair as he takes one of my nipples

between his lips and tugs hard.

I cry out as the sensation sweeps through my body, spikes, and tightens all the muscles

around my groin.

"Yes, baby, let me hear you," he murmurs against my overheated skin.

Boy, I want him inside me, now. With his mouth, he toys with my nipple, pulling at it,

making me squirm and writhe and yearn for him. I sense his longing mixed with"what?

Veneration. It's as if he's worshipping me. He teases me with his fingers, my nipple growing hard and elongating under his skillful

touch. His hand moves to my jeans, and he deftly undoes the button, tugs the zipper down,

and slips his hand inside my panties, sliding his fingers against my sex.

His breath hisses out as his finger glides into me. I push my pelvis up into the heel of

his hand, and he responds, rubbing against me.

"Oh, baby," he breathes as he hovers over me, staring intently into my eyes. "You're so

wet." His voice is filled with wonder.

"I want you," I murmur.

His mouth joins with mine again, and I feel his hungry desperation, his need for me.

This is new"it's never been like this except perhaps when I came back from Georgia"and his words from earlier drift back to me . . . I need to know we're okay. This is the

only way I know how.

The thought unravels me. To know that I have such an effect on him, that I can offer

him so much solace, doing this"my inner goddess purrs with pure pleasure. He sits up,

grasps the hem of my jeans, and tugs them off, followed by my panties.

Keeping his eyes fixed on mine, he stands, takes a foil packet out of his pocket, and

tosses it at me, then removes his jeans and boxers in one swift motion.

I rip the packet open greedily, and when he lies beside me again, I slowly roll the condom on to him. He grabs both my hands and rolls on to his back.

"You. On top," he orders, pulling me astride him. "I want to see you."

Oh.

He guides me, and hesitantly I ease myself down onto him. He closes his eyes and

flexes his hips to meet me, filling me, stretching me, his mouth forming a perfect O as he

exhales.

Oh, that feels so good"possessing him, possessing me.

He holds my hands, and I don't know if it's to steady me or keep me from touching

him, even though I have my road map.

"You feel so good," he murmurs.

I rise again, heady with the power I have over him, watching zain abdullah slowly

coming apart beneath me. He lets go of my hands and grabs my hips, and I place my hands

on his arms. He thrusts into me sharply, causing me to cry out.

"That's right, baby, feel me," he says, his voice strained.

I tip my head back and do exactly that. This is what he does so well.

I move"countering his rhythm in perfect symmetry"numbing all thought and reason.

I am just sensation lost in this void of pleasure. Up and down . . . again and again . . . Oh

yes . . . Opening my eyes, I stare down at him, my breathing ragged, and he's staring back

at me, eyes blazing.

"My Aliya," he mouths.

"Yes," I rasp. "Always."

He groans loudly, closing his eyes again, tipping his head back. Oh my . . . Seeing

zain undone is enough to seal my fate, and I come audibly, exhaustingly, spinning

down and around, collapsing on top of him.

"Oh, baby," he groans as he finds his release, holding me still and letting go.My head is on his chest in the no-go area, my cheek nestled against the springy hair on

his sternum. I am panting, glowing, and I resist the urge to pucker my lips and kiss him.

I just lie on top of him, catching my breath. He smoothes my hair, and his hand runs

down my back, caressing me as his breathing calms.

"You are so beautiful."

I lift my head to gaze at him, my expression skeptical. He frowns in response and sits

up quickly, taking me by surprise, his arm sweeping round to hold me in place. I clutch his

biceps as we are nose to nose.

"You. Are. Beautiful," he says again, his tone emphatic.

"And you're amazingly sweet sometimes." I kiss him gently.

He lifts me and eases out of me. I wince as he does. Leaning forward, he kisses me

softly.

"You have no idea how attractive you are, do you?"

I flush. Why's he going on about this?

"All those boys pursuing you"that isn't enough of a clue?"

"Boys? What boys?"

"You want the list?" zain frowns. "The photographer, he's crazy about you, that

boy in the hardware store, your roommate's older brother. Your boss," he adds bitterly.

"Oh, zain, that's just not true."

"Trust me. They want you. They want what's mine." He pulls me against him, and I lift

my arms to his shoulders, my hands in his hair, regarding him with amusement.

"Mine," he repeats, his eyes glowing possessively.

"Yes, yours." I reassure him, smiling. He looks mollified, and I feel perfectly comfortable naked in his lap on a bed in the full light of a Saturday afternoon. Who would have

thought? The lipstick marks remain on his exquisite body. I note some smears on the duvet

cover though, and wonder briefly what Mrs. Jones will make of them.

"The line is still intact," I murmur and bravely trace the mark on his shoulder with my

index finger. He stiffens, blinking suddenly. "I want to go exploring."

He regards me skeptically.

"The apartment?"

"No. I was thinking of the treasure map that we've drawn on you." My fingers itch to

touch him.

His eyebrows lift in surprise, and he blinks with uncertainty. I rub my nose against his.

"And what would that entail exactly, Miss haider?"

I lift my hand from his shoulder and run my fingertips down this face.

"I just want to touch you everywhere I'm allowed."

Christian catches my index finger in his teeth, biting down gently.

"Ow," I protest and he grins, a low growl coming from his throat.

"Okay," he says, releasing my finger, but his voice is laced with apprehension. "Wait."

He leans behind me, lifting me again, and removes his condom, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor beside the bed.

"I hate those things. I've a good mind to call Dr. Greene around to give you a shot."

"You think the top ob-gyn in Seattle is going to come running?""I can be very persuasive," he murmurs, hooking my hair behind my ear. "Franco's

done a great job on your hair. I like these layers."

What?

"Stop changing the subject."

He shifts me back so I'm straddling him, leaning on his propped-up knees, my feet on

either side of his hips. He leans back on his arms.

"Touch away," he says without humor. He looks nervous, but he's trying to hide it.

Keeping my eyes on his, I reach down and trace my finger underneath the lipstick line,

across his finely sculptured abdominal muscles. He flinches and I stop.

"I don't have to," I whisper.

"No, it's fine. Just takes some . . . readjustment on my part. No one's touched me for a

long time," he murmurs.

"Mrs. Robinson?" The words pop unbidden out of my mouth, and amazingly, I manage

to keep all bitterness and rancor out of my voice.

He nods, his discomfort obvious. "I don't want to talk about her. It will sour your good

mood."

"I can handle it."

"No, you can't, Aliya. You see red whenever I mention her. My past is my past. It's a

fact. I can't change it. I'm lucky that you don't have one, because it would drive me crazy

if you did."

I frown at him, but I don't want to fight. "Drive you crazy? More than you are already?" I smile, hoping to lighten the atmosphere between us.

His lips twitch. "Crazy for you," he whispers.

My heart swells with joy.

"Shall I call Dr. Flynn?"

"I don't think that will be necessary," he says dryly.

Shifting back so he drops his legs, I place my fingers back on his stomach and let them

drift across his skin. He stills once more.

"I like touching you." My fingers skate down to his navel then southward along his

happy, happy trail. His lips part as his breathing changes, his eyes darken and his erection

stirs and twitches beneath me. Holy cow. Round two.

"Again?" I murmur.

He smiles. "Oh yes, Miss haider, again."

What a delicious way to spend a Saturday afternoon. I stand beneath the shower, absentmindedly washing myself, careful not to wet my tied-back hair, contemplating the last

couple of hours. zain and vanilla seem to be going well.

He's revealed so much today. It's staggering, trying to assimilate all the information

and to reflect on what I've learned: his salary details"Whoa, he's stinking rich, and for

someone so young; it's just extraordinary"and the dossiers he has on me and on all his

brunette submissives. I wonder if they are all in that filing cabinet? My subconscious purses her lips at me and shakes her head"don't even go there. I

frown. Just a quick peek?

And there's Leila"with a gun, potentially, somewhere"and her crap taste in music

still on his iPod. But even worse, Mrs. Paedo Robinson, I cannot wrap my head around her,

and I don't want to. I don't want her to be a shimmering-haired specter in our relationship.

He's right, I do go off the deep end when I think of her, so perhaps it's best if I don't.

I step out of the shower and dry myself, and I'm suddenly seized by unexpected anger.

But who wouldn't go off the deep end? What normal, sane person would do that to a

fifteen-year-old boy? How much has she contributed to his f**kedupness? I don't understand her. And worse still, he says she helped him. How?

I think of his scars, the stark physical embodiment of a horrific childhood and a sickening reminder of what mental scars he must bear. My sweet, sad Fifty Shades. He's said such

loving things today. He's crazy for me.

Staring at my reflection, I smile at the memory of his words, my heart brimming once

more, and my face transforms with a ridiculous smile. Perhaps we can make this work. But

how long will he want to do this without wanting to beat the crap out of me because I cross

some arbitrary line?

My smile dissolves. This is what I don't know. This is the shadow that hangs over us.

Kinky f**kery, yes, I can do that, but more?

My subconscious stares at me blankly, for once offering no snarky words of wisdom. I

head back to my bedroom to dress.

zain is downstairs getting ready, doing whatever he's doing, so I have the bedroom to myself. As well as all the dresses in the closet, I have drawers full of new underwear. I select a black bustier corset creation with a price tag of five hundred forty dollars. It

has silver trim like filigree and the briefest of panties to match. Thigh-high stockings, too,

in a natural color, so fine, pure silk. Wow, they feel . . . slinky . . . and kind of hot . . . yeah.

I am reaching for the dress when zain enters unannounced. Whoa, you could

knock! He stands immobilized, staring at me, gray eyes glimmering, hungrily. I blush crimson everywhere, it feels. He is wearing a white shirt and black suit pants, the neck of his

shirt is open. I can see the lipstick line still in place, and he's still staring.

"Can I help you, Mr. abdullah? I assume there is some purpose to your visit other than to

gawk mindlessly at me."

"I am rather enjoying my mindless gawk, thank you, Miss haider," he murmurs darkly,

stepping further into the room and drinking me in. "Remind me to send a personal note of

thanks to Caroline Acton."

I frown. Who the hell is she?

"The personal shopper at Neiman's," he says, spookily answering my unspoken question.

"Oh."

"I'm quite distracted."

"I can see that. What do you want, zain?" I give him my no-nonsense stare.

He retaliates with his crooked smile and pulls the silver ball egg-things from his pocket, stopping me in my tracks. Holy shit! He wants to spank me? Now? Why?

"It's not what you think," he says quickly."Enlighten me," I whisper.

"I thought you could wear these tonight."

And the implications of that sentence hang between us as the idea sinks in.

"To this event?" I'm shocked.

He nods slowly, his eyes darkening.

Oh my.

"Will you spank me later?"

"No."

For a moment, I feel a tiny fleeting stab of disappointment.

He chuckles. "You want me to?"

I swallow. I just don't know.

"Well, rest assured I am not going to touch you like that, not even if you beg me."

Oh! This is news.

"Do you want to play this game?" he continues, holding up the balls. "You can always

take them out if it's too much."

I gaze at him. He looks so wickedly tempting"unkempt, recently f**ked hair, dark

eyes dancing with erotic thoughts, that beautiful sculptured mouth, lips raised in a sexy,

amused smile.

"Okay," I acquiesce softly. Hell, yes! My inner goddess has found her voice and is

shouting from the rooftops.

"Good girl," zain grins. "Come here, and I'll put them in, once you've put your

shoes on."

My shoes? I turn and glance at the dove gray suede stilettos that match the dress I've

chosen to wear.

Humor him! my inner goddess barks at me.

He holds out his hand to support me while I step into the zain Louboutin shoes, a

steal at three-thousand two hundred ninety-five dollars. I must be at least five inches taller

now.

He leads me to the bedside and doesn't sit, but walks over to the only chair in the room.

Picking it up, he carries it over and places it in front of me.

"When I nod, you bend down and hold on to the chair. Understand?" His voice is

husky.

"Yes."

"Good. Now open your mouth," he orders, his voice still low.

I do as I'm told, thinking that he's going to put the balls in my mouth again to lubricate

them. No, he slips his index finger in.

Oh . . .

"Suck," he says. I reach up and clasp his hand, holding him steady, and do as I'm

told"see, I can be obedient, when I want.

He tastes of soap . . . hmm. I suck hard, and I'm rewarded when his eyes widen and his

lips part as he inhales. I'm not going to need any lubricant at this rate. He puts the balls in

his mouth as I fellate his finger, twirling my tongue round it. When he tries to withdraw it,

I clamp my teeth down.He grins then shakes his head, admonishing me, so I let go. He nods, and I bend down

and grasp the sides of the chair. He moves my panties to one side and very slowly slides

a finger into me, circling leisurely, so I feel him, on all sides. I can't help the moan that

escapes from my lips.

He withdraws his finger briefly and with tender care, inserts the balls one at a time,

pushing them deep inside me. Once they are in position, he smoothes my panties back into

place and kisses my backside. Running his hands up each of my legs from ankle to thigh,

he gently kisses the top of each thigh where my hold-ups finish.

"You have fine, fine legs, Miss haider," he murmurs.

Standing, he grasps my hips and pulls my behind against him so I feel his erection.

"Maybe I'll have you this way when we get home, aliya. You can stand now."

I feel giddy, beyond aroused as the weight of the balls push and pull inside me. Leaning

down from behind me zain kisses my shoulder.

"I bought these for you to wear to last Saturday's gala." He puts his arm around me and

holds out his hand. In his palm rests a small red box with Cartier inscribed on the lid. "But

you left me, so I never had the opportunity to give them to you."

Oh!

"This is my second chance," he murmurs, his voice stiff with some unnamed emotion.

He's nervous.

Tentatively, I reach for the box and open it. Inside shines a pair of drop earrings. Each

has four diamonds, one at the base, then a gap, then three perfectly spaced diamonds hanging one after the other. They're beautiful, simple, and classic. What I would choose myself,

if I were ever given the opportunity to shop at Cartier.

"They're lovely," I whisper, and because they are second-chance earrings, I love them.

"Thank you."

He relaxes against me as the tension leaves his body, and he kisses my shoulder again.

"You're wearing the silver satin dress?" he asks.

"Yes? Is that okay?"

"Of course. I'll let you get ready." He heads out the door without a backward glance.

I have entered an alternate universe. The young woman staring back at me looks worthy of

a red carpet. Her strapless, floor-length, silver satin gown is simply stunning. Maybe I'll

write to Caroline Acton myself. It's fitted and flatters what little curves I have.

My hair falls in soft waves around my face, spilling over my shoulders to my breasts. I

tuck one side behind my ear, revealing my second-chance earrings. I have kept my makeup

to a minimum, a natural look. Eyeliner, mascara, a little pink blush, and pale pink lipstick.

I don't really need the blush. I am slightly flushed from the constant movement of the

silver balls. Yes, they'll guarantee I have some color in my cheeks tonight. Shaking my

head at the audacity of zain's erotic ideas, I lean down to collect my satin wrap and

silver clutch purse and go in search of my Fifty Shades.He is talking to Taylor and three other men in the hallway, his back to me. Their surprised, appreciative expressions alert zain to my presence. He turns as I stand and wait

awkwardly.

Holy cow! My mouth dries. He looks stunning . . . Black dinner suit, black bow tie, and

his expression as he gazes at me is one of awe. He strolls toward me and kisses my hair.

"aliya. You look breathtaking."

I flush at this compliment in front of Taylor and the other men.

"A glass of champagne before we go?"

"Please," I murmur, far too quickly.

zain nods to Taylor who heads into the foyer with his three cohorts.

In the great room, zain retrieves a bottle of champagne from the fridge.

"Security team?" I ask.

"Close protection. They're under Taylor's control. He's trained in that, too." zain

hands me a champagne flute.

"He's very versatile."

"Yes, he is." zain smiles. "You look lovely, aliya. Cheers." He raises his

glass, and I clink it with mine. The champagne is a pale rose color. It tastes deliciously

crisp and light.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his eyes heated.

"Fine, thank you." I smile sweetly, giving nothing away, knowing full well he's referring to the silver balls.

He smirks at me.

"Here, you're going to need this." He hands me a large velvet pouch that was resting

on the kitchen island. "Open it," he says between sips of champagne. Intrigued, I reach

into the bag and pull out an intricate silver masquerade mask with cobalt blue feathers in a

plume crowning the top.

"It's a masked ball," he states matter-of-factly.

"I see." The mask is beautiful. A silver ribbon is threaded around the edges and exquisite silver filigree is etched around the eyes.

"This will show off your beautiful eyes, aliya."

I grin at him, shyly.

"Are you wearing one?"

"Of course. They're very liberating in a way," he adds, raising an eyebrow, and he

smirks.

Oh. This is going to be fun.

"Come. I want to show you something." Holding out his hand, he leads me out into

the hallway and to a door beside the stairs. He opens it, revealing a large room roughly the

same size as his playroom, which must be directly above us. This one is filled with books.

Wow, a library, every wall crammed floor to ceiling. In the center is a full-size billiard table

illuminated by a long triangular-prism-shaped Tiffany lamp.

"You have a library!" I squeak in awe, overwhelmed with excitement.

"Yes, the balls room as harshad calls it. The apartment is quite spacious. I realized today,

when you mentioned exploring, that I've never given you a tour. We don't have time now, but I thought I'd show you this room, and maybe challenge you to a game of billiards in

the not-too-distant future."

I grin at him.

"Bring it on." I secretly hug myself with glee. rehaan and I bonded over pool. We've been

playing for the last three years. I am ace with a cue. rehaan has been a good teacher.

"What?" zain asks, amused.

Oh! I really must stop expressing every emotion I feel the instant I feel it, I scold myself.

"Nothing," I say quickly.

zain narrows his eyes.

"Well, maybe Doctor Flynn can uncover your secrets. You'll meet him this evening."

"The expensive charlatan?" Holy shit.

"The very same. He's dying to meet you."

zain takes my hand and gently skims his thumb across my knuckles as we sit in the

back of the Audi heading north. I squirm, and feel the sensation in my groin. I resist the

urge to moan, as Taylor is in the front, not wearing his iPod, with one of the security guys

whose name I think is Sawyer.

I am beginning to feel a dull, pleasurable ache deep in my belly, caused by the balls.

Idly, I wonder, how long will I be able to manage without some, um . . . relief? I cross my

legs. As I do, something that's been niggling me in the back of my mind suddenly surfaces.

"Where did you get the lipstick?" I ask zain quietly.

He smirks at me and points toward the front. "Taylor," he mouths.

I burst out laughing. "Oh." And stop quickly"the balls.

I bite my lip. zain smiles at me, his eyes gleaming wickedly. He knows exactly

what he's doing, sexy beast that he is.

"Relax," he breathes. "If it's too much . . ." His voice trails off, and he gently kisses

each knuckle in turn, then gently sucks the tip of my little finger.

Now I know he's doing this on purpose. I close my eyes as dark desire unfolds throughout my body. I surrender briefly to the sensation, my muscles clenching deep inside me.

Oh my.

When I open my eyes again, zain is regarding me closely, a dark prince. It must be

the dinner jacket and bow tie, but he looks older, sophisticated, a devastatingly handsome

rou with licentious intent.

He simply takes my breath away. I'm in his sexual thrall, and if I'm to believe him, he's

in mine. The thought brings a smile to my face, and his answering grin is blinding.

"So what can we expect at this event?"

"Oh, the usual stuff," zain says breezily.

"Not usual for me," I remind him.

zain smiles fondly and kisses my hand again. "Lots of people flashing their cash.

Auction, raffle, dinner, dancing"my mother knows how to throw a party." He smiles and

for the first time all day, I allow myself to feel a little excited about this party.There is a line of expensive cars heading up the driveway of the abdullah mansion. Long,

pale pink paper lanterns hang over the drive, and as we inch closer in the Audi, I can see

they are everywhere. In the early evening light, they look magical, as if we're entering an

enchanted kingdom. I glance at zain. How suitable for my prince"and my childish

excitement blooms, eclipsing all other feelings.

"Masks on," zain grins, and as he dons his simple black mask, my prince becomes

something darker, more sensual.

All I can see of his face is his beautiful chiseled mouth and strong jaw.

Holy f**k . . . My heartbeat lurches at the sight of him. I fasten my mask and grin at

him, ignoring the hunger deep in my body.

Taylor pulls into the driveway, and a valet opens zain's door. Sawyer leaps out to

open mine.

"Ready?" zain asks.

"As I'll ever be."

"You look beautiful, aliya." He kisses my hand and exits the car.

A dark green carpet runs along the lawn to one side of the house, leading to the impressive grounds at the rear. Christian has a protective arm around me, resting his hand on my

waist, as we follow the green carpet with a steady stream of Seattle's elite dressed in their

finery and wearing all manner of masks the lanterns lighting the way. Two photographers

marshal guests to pose for pictures against the backdrop of an ivy-strewn arbor.

"Mr. abdullah!" one of the photographers calls. zain nods in acknowledgement and

pulls me close as we pose quickly for a photo. How do they know it's him? His trademark,

unruly copper hair no doubt.

"Two photographers?" I ask zain.

"One is from the Seattle Times; the other is for a souvenir. We'll be able to buy a copy

later."

Oh, my picture in the press again. Leila briefly enters my mind. This is how she found

me, posing with zain. The thought is unsettling, though it's comforting that I am unrecognizable beneath my mask.

At the end of the line, white-suited servers hold trays of glasses brimming with champagne, and I'm grateful when zain passes me a glass"effectively distracting me from

my dark thoughts.

We approach a large white pergola hung with smaller versions of the paper lanterns.

Beneath it, shines a black and white checkered dance floor surrounded by a low fence with

entrances on three sides. At each entrance stand two elaborate ice sculptures of swans. The

fourth side of the pergola is occupied by a stage where a string quartet is playing softly, a

haunting, ethereal piece I don't recognize. The stage looks set for a big band but as there's

no sign of the musicians yet. I figure this must be for later. Taking my hand, zain leads

me between swans onto the dance floor where the other guests are congregating, chatting

over glasses of champagne.

Toward the shoreline stands an enormous marquee, open on the side nearest to us so I

can glimpse the formally arranged tables and chairs. There are so many!

"How many people are coming?" I ask zain, thrown by the scale of the marquee."I think about three hundred. You'll have to ask my mother." He smiles down at me,

and maybe it's because I can only see his smile that lights up his face, but my inner goddess swoons.

"zain!"

A young woman appears out of the throng and throws her arms around his neck, and

immediately I know it's barkat. She's dressed in a sleek, pale pink, full-length chiffon gown

with a stunning, delicately detailed Venetian mask to match. She looks amazing. And for a

moment, I have never felt so grateful for the dress zain has given me.

"Aliya! Oh, darling, you look gorgeous!" She gives me a quick hug. "You must come

and meet my friends. None of them can believe that zain finally has a girlfriend."

I shoot a quick panicked glance at zain, who shrugs in a resigned I-know-she'simpossible-I-had-to-live-with-her-for-years way, and let barkat lead me over to a group of

four young women, all expensively attired and impeccably groomed.

barkat makes hasty introductions. Three of them are sweet and kind, but Lily, I think her

name is, regards me sourly from beneath her red mask.

"Of course we all thought zain was gay," she says snidely, concealing her rancor

with a large, fake smile.

barkat pouts at her.

"Lily, behave yourself. It's obvious he has excellent taste in women. He was waiting

for the right one to come along, and it wasn't you!"

Lily blushes the same color as her mask, as do I. Could this be any more uncomfortable?

"Ladies, if I could claim my date back, please?" Snaking his arm around my waist,

zain pulls me to his side. All four women flush, grin and fidget, his dazzling smile doing what it always does. barkat glances at me and rolls her eyes, and I have to laugh.

"Lovely to meet you," I say as he drags me away.

"Thank you," I mouth at zain when we're some distance away.

"I saw that Lily was with barkat. She is one nasty piece of work."

"She likes you," I mutter dryly.

He shudders. "Well, the feeling is not mutual. Come, let me introduce you to some

people."

I spend the next half hour in a whirlwind of introductions. I meet two Hollywood actors, two more CEOs, and several eminent physicians. Holy shit . . . there is no way I am

going to remember everyone's name.

zain keeps me close at his side, and I'm grateful. Frankly, the wealth, the glamour,

and the sheer lavish scale of the event intimidates me. I have never been to anything like

this in my life.

The white-suited servers move effortlessly through the growing crowd of guests with

bottles of champagne, topping off my glass with worrying regularity. I must not drink too

much. I must not drink too much, I repeat to myself, but I'm beginning to feel light-headed,

and I don't know if it's the champagne, the charged atmosphere of mystery and excitement

created by the masks, or the secret silver balls. The dull ache below my waist is becoming

impossible to ignore."So you work at SIP?" asks a balding gentleman in a half-bear"or is it a dog?"mask.

"Heard rumors of a hostile takeover."

I flush. There is a hostile takeover from a man who has more money than sense and is

a stalker par excellence.

"I'm just a lowly assistant, Mr. Eccles. I wouldn't know about these things."

zain says nothing and smiles blandly at Eccles.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The master of ceremonies, wearing an impressive black and

white harlequin mask, interrupts us. "Please take your seats. Dinner is served."

zain takes my hand, and we follow the chattering crowd to the large marquee.

The interior is stunning. Three enormous, shallow chandeliers throw rainbow-colored

sparkles over the ivory silk lining of the ceiling and walls. There must be at least thirty

tables, and they remind me of the private dining room at the Heathman"crystal glasses,

crisp white linen covering the tables and chairs, and in the center, an exquisite display of

pale pink peonies gathered around a silver candelabra. Wrapped in gossamer silk beside it

is a basket of goodies.

zain consults the seating plan and leads me to a table in the center. barkat and suraiyya

are already in situ, deep in conversation with a young man I don't know. suraiyya is wearing a shimmering mint green gown with a Venetian mask to match. She looks radiant, not

stressed at all, and she greets me warmly.

"Aliya, how delightful to see you again! And looking so beautiful, too."

"Mother," zain greets her stiffly and kisses her on both cheeks.

"Oh, zain, so formal!" she scolds him teasingly.

Suraiyya's parents, Mr. and Mrs. qureshi, join us at our table. They seem exuberant

and youthful, though it's difficult to tell beneath their matching bronze masks. They are

delighted to see zain.

"Grandmother, Grandfather, may I introduce aliya haider?"

Mrs. qureshi is all over me like a rash. "Oh, he's finally found someone, how wonderful and so pretty! Well I do hope you make an honest man of him," she gushes, shaking

my hand.

Holy cow. I thank the heavens for my mask.

"Mother, don't embarrass aliya." suraiyya comes to my rescue.

"Ignore the silly old coot, m'dear." Mr. qureshi shakes my hand. "She thinks because she's so old, she has a God-given right to say whatever nonsense pops into that

woolly head of hers."

"aliya, this is my date, Sean." barkat shyly introduces her young man. He gives me a

wicked grin, and his brown eyes dance with amusement as we shake hands.

"Pleased to meet you, Sean."

zain shakes Sean's hand as he regards him shrewdly. Don't tell me that poor barkat

suffers from her overbearing brother, too. I smile at barkat in sympathy.

Lance and Janine, suraiyya's friends, are the last couple at our table, but there is still no

sign of Mr. abdullah.

Abruptly, there's the hiss of a microphone, and Mr. abdullah's voice booms over the PA

system, causing the babble of voices to die down. He stands on a small stage at one

end of the marquee, wearing an impressive, gold, Punchinello mask."Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to our annual charity ball. I hope that you enjoy what

we have laid out for you tonight and that you'll dig deep into your pockets to support the

fantastic work that our team does with Coping Together. As you know, it's a cause that is

very close to my wife's heart, and mine."

I peek nervously at zain, who is staring impassively, I think, at the stage. He

glances at me and smirks.

"I'll hand you over now to our master of ceremonies. Please be seated, and enjoy,"

Mr abdullah finishes.

Polite applause follows, then the babble in the tent starts again. I am seated between

zain and his grandfather. I admire the small white place card with fine silver calligraphy that bears my name as a waiter lights the candelabra with a long taper. Mr abdullah joins us,

kissing me on both cheeks, surprising me.

"Good to see you again, Aliya," he murmurs. He really looks very striking in his extraordinary gold mask.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please nominate a table head," the MC calls out.

"Ooo"me, me!" says barkat immediately, bouncing enthusiastically in her seat.

"In the center of the table you will find an envelope," the MC continues. "Would everyone find, beg, borrow, or steal a bill of the highest denomination you can manage, write

your name on it, and place it inside the envelope. Table heads, please guard these envelopes

carefully. We will need them later."

Holy crap. I haven't brought any money with me. How stupid"it's a charity event!

Fishing out his wallet, zain produces two hundred-dollar bills.

"Here," he says.

What?

"I'll pay you back," I whisper.

His mouth twists slightly, and I know he's not happy, but he doesn't comment. I sign

my name using his fountain pen"it's black, with a white flower motif on the cap"and

barkat passes the envelope round.

In front of me I find another card inscribed with silver calligraphy"our menu.

Our waiter is back, offering wine and water. Behind me, the sides of the tent

through which we entered are being closed, while at the front, two servers pull back the

canvas, revealing the sunset over Seattle and Meydenbauer Bay.

It's an absolutely breathtaking view, the twinkling lights of Seattle in the distance and

the orange, dusky calm of the bay reflecting the opal sky. Wow. It's so calm and peaceful.

Ten servers, each holding a plate, come to stand between us. On a silent cue, they serve

us our starters in complete synchronization, then vanish again. The salmon looks delicious,

and I realize I am famished.

"Hungry?" zain murmurs so only I can hear. I know he's not referring to the food,

and the muscles deep in my belly respond.

"Very," I whisper, boldly meeting his gaze, and zain's lips part as he inhales.

Ha! See . . . two can play at this game.

Zain's grandfather engages me in conversation immediately. He's a wonderful old

man, so proud of his daughter and three children. It is weird to think of zain as a child. The memory of his burn scars come unbidden to my mind, but I quickly quash it. I don't want to think about that now, though ironically, it's the reason behind this party.

I wish yasmin was here with harshad. She would fit in so well"the sheer number of forks

yasmin

imagine her duking it out with barkat over who should be table head. The thought makes me

smile.

The conversation at the table ebbs and flows. barkat is entertaining, as usual, and quite

eclipses poor Sean, who mostly stays quiet like me. Zain's grandmother is the most

vocal. She, too, has a biting sense of humor, usually at the expense of her husband. I begin

to feel a little sorry for Mr. qureshi.

Zain and Lance talk animatedly about a device zain's company is developing, inspired by Schumacher's principle Small is Beautiful. It's hard to keep up. zain

seems intent on empowering impoverished communities all over the world with wind-up

technology"devices that need no electricity or batteries and minimal maintenance.

Watching him in full flow is astonishing. He's passionate and committed to improving

the lives of the less fortunate. Through his telecommunications company, he's intent on

being first to market with a wind-up mobile phone.

Whoa. I had no idea. I mean I knew about his passion about feeding the world, but

this . . .

Lance seems unable to comprehend zain's plan to give the technology away and

not patent it. I wonder vaguely how zain made all his money if he's so willing to give

it all away.

Throughout dinner a steady stream of men in smartly tailored dinner jackets and dark

masks stop by the table, keen to meet zain, shake his hand, and exchange pleasantries.

He introduces me to some but not others. I'm intrigued to know how and why he makes

the distinction.

During one such conversation, barkat leans across and smiles.

"aliya, will you help in the auction?"

"Of course," I respond only too willing.

By the time dessert is served, night has fallen, and I'm really uncomfortable. I need to

get rid of the balls. Before I can excuse myself, the master of ceremonies appears at our

table, and with him"if I'm not mistaken"is Miss European Pigtails.

What's her name? Hansel, Gretel . . . Gretchen.

She's masked of course, but I know it's her when her gaze doesn't move beyond zain. She blushes, and selfishly I'm beyond pleased that zain doesn't acknowledge her

at all.

The MC asks for our envelope and with a very practiced and eloquent flourish, asks

Grace to pull out the winning bill. It's Sean's, and the silk-wrapped basket is awarded to

him.

I applaud politely, but I'm finding it impossible to concentrate on any more of the

proceedings.

"If you'll excuse me," I murmur to zain.

He looks at me intently."Do you need the powder room?"

I nod.

"I'll show you," he says darkly.

When I stand, all the other men round the table stand with me. Oh, such manners.

"No, zain! You're not taking Aliya"I will."

barkat is on her feet before zain can protest. His jaw tenses, I know he's not pleased.

Quite frankly, neither am I. I have . . . needs. I shrug apologetically at him, and he sits down

quickly, resigned.

On our return, I feel a little better, though the relief of removing the balls has not been

as instantaneous as I'd hoped. They're now stashed safely in my clutch purse.

Why did I think I could last the whole evening? I am still yearning"perhaps I can persuade zain to take me to the boathouse later. I flush at the thought and glance at him

as I take my seat. He stares at me, the ghost of a smile crossing his lips.

Phew . . . he's no longer mad at a missed opportunity, though maybe I am. I feel

frustrated"irritable even. zain squeezes my hand, and we both listen attentively to

his father, who is back on stage talking about Coping Together. zain passes me another

card"a list of the auction prizes. I scan them quickly.

*(its basically a list of a load of properties the abdullahs own in different parts of the world and objects with autographs on from famous people)*

Holy shit. I blink up at zain.

"You own property in Aspen?" I hiss. The auction is underway, and I have to keep my

voice down.

He nods, surprised at my outburst and irritated, I think. He puts his finger to his lips

to silence me.

"Do you have property elsewhere?" I whisper.He nods again and inclines his head to

one side in a warning.

The whole room erupts with cheering and applause; one of the prizes has gone for

twelve thousand dollars."I'll tell you later," zain says quietly. "I wanted to come with you," he adds rather

sulkily.

Well, you didn't. I pout and I realize that I'm still querulous, and no doubt, it's the

frustrating effect of the balls. My mood darkens after seeing Mrs. Robinson on the list of

generous donors.

I glance around the marquee to see if I can spot her, but I can't see her telltale hair.

Surely zain would have warned me if she was invited tonight. I sit and stew, applauding when necessary, as each lot is sold for astonishing amounts of money.

The bidding moves to zain's place in Aspen and reaches twenty thousand dollars.

"Going once, going twice," the MC calls.

And I don't know what possesses me, but I suddenly hear my own voice ringing out

clearly over the throng.

"Twenty-four thousand dollars!"

Every mask at the table turns to me in shocked amazement, the biggest reaction of all

coming from beside me. I hear his sharp intake of breath and feel his wrath washing over

me like a tidal wave.

"Twenty-four thousand dollars, to the lovely lady in silver, going once, going twice . . .

Sold!"

He is in love with her ...I wish they come to terms to soon

oh gosh see in simple i say it ws beautiful update bt u knw wht ur updates r extraordinary d dark side of zain d humorous side of zain ,his past ,his longiness fr aliya his care n concerns fr aliya is jst so amazing to read n imagine aliya love fr him dat cn make her frget everythng abt zain past d way she wnts zain is jst super duper sexy its like a dark yet a very passionate love story i wish our television series cn b dis bold dat we cn actually hve fifty shades played by harshad n preetika in reel i sure it would hve gaines superb trps ...in short ur work is jst amazing👏 keep gng keep writing n by d way d usage or words to express a emotion pain is worth reading ..i feel like i'm reading a typical novel were i wish dat d story never ends ..i 'm really elated n b;lessed dat i knw n read some of d best writers in dis forum u guys r absolutely amazing 👏

Originally posted by: katmaan

He is in love with her ...I wish they come to terms to soon

And aahh the property in aspin waiting update soon

Originally posted by: preeharsharora

oh gosh see in simple i say it ws beautiful update bt u knw wht ur updates r extraordinary d dark side of zain d humorous side of zain ,his past ,his longiness fr aliya his care n concerns fr aliya is jst so amazing to read n imagine aliya love fr him dat cn make her frget everythng abt zain past d way she wnts zain is jst super duper sexy its like a dark yet a very passionate love story i wish our television series cn b dis bold dat we cn actually hve fifty shades played by harshad n preetika in reel i sure it would hve gaines superb trps ...in short ur work is jst amazing👏 keep gng keep writing n by d way d usage or words to express a emotion pain is worth reading ..i feel like i'm reading a typical novel were i wish dat d story never ends ..i 'm really elated n b;lessed dat i knw n read some of d best writers in dis forum u guys r absolutely amazing 👏

Chap7

Holy shit, did I really just do that? It must be the alcohol. I've had champagne plus four

glasses of four different wines. I glance up at zain who's busy applauding.

Crap, he's going to be so angry, and we've been getting on so well. My subconscious

has finally decided to make an appearance, and she's wearing her Edvard Munch Scream

face.

zain

cheek and then moves closer to whisper in my ear in a very cold, controlled voice.

"I don't know whether to worship at your feet or spank the living shit out of you."

Oh, I know what I want right now. I gaze up at him, blinking through my mask. I just

wish I could read what's in his eyes.

"I'll take option two, please," I whisper frantically as the applause dies down. His lips

part as he inhales sharply. Oh that chiseled mouth"I want it on me, now. I ache for him. He

gives me a radiant sincere smile that leaves me breathless.

"Suffering, are you? We'll have to see what we can do about that," he murmurs as he

runs his fingers along my jaw.

His touch resonates deep, deep inside where that ache has spawned and grown. I want

to jump him right here, right now, but we sit back to watch the auction of the next lot.I can barely sit still. zain drapes an arm around my shoulders, his thumb rhythmically stroking my back, sending delicious tingles down my spine. His free hand clasps

mine, bringing it to his lips, then letting it rest on his lap.

Slowly and surreptitiously, so I don't realize his game until it's too late, he eases my

hand up his leg and against his erection. I gasp, and my eyes dart in panic around the table,

but all eyes are fixed on the stage. Thank heavens for my mask.

Taking full advantage, I slowly caress him, letting my fingers explore. zain keeps

his hand over mine, hiding my bold fingers, while his thumb skates softly over the nape

of my neck. His mouth opens as he gasps softly, and it's the only reaction I can see to my

inexperienced touch. But it means so much. He wants me. Everything south of my navel

contracts. This is becoming unbearable.

A week by Lake Adriana in Montana is the final lot for auction. Of course Mr. and Dr.

abdullah have a house in Montana, and the bidding escalates rapidly, but I am barely aware of

it. I feel him growing beneath my fingers, and it makes me feel so powerful.

"Sold, for one hundred ten thousand dollars!" the MC declares victoriously. The whole

room bursts into applause, and reluctantly I follow as does zain, ruining our fun.

He turns to me and his lips twitch. "Ready?" he mouths over the rapturous cheering.

"Yes," I mouth back

"Aliya!" barkat calls. "It's time!"

What? No. Not again! "Time for what?"

"The First Dance Auction. Come on!" She stands and holds out her hand.

I glance at zain who is, I think, scowling at barkat, and I don't know whether to

laugh or cry, but it's laughter that wins. I succumb to a cathartic bubble of schoolgirl giggles, as we are thwarted once more by the tall, pink powerhouse that is barkat abdullah. zain

peers at me, and after a beat, there's a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"The first dance will be with me, okay? And it won't be on the dance floor," he murmurs lasciviously into my ear. My giggles subside as anticipation fans the flames of my

need. Oh, yes! My inner goddess performs a perfect triple Salchow in her ice skates.

"I look forward to it." I lean over and plant a soft, chaste kiss on his mouth. Glancing

around, I realize that our fellow guests at the table are astonished. Of course, they've never

seen zain with a date before.

He smiles broadly at me. And he looks . . . happy. Wow.

"Come on, Aliya," barkat nags. Taking her outstretched hand, I follow her onto the stage

where ten more young women have assembled, and I note with vague unease that Lily is

one of them.

"Gentlemen, the highlight of the evening!" the MC booms over the babble of voices.

"The moment you've all been waiting for! These twelve lovely ladies have all agreed to

auction their first dance to the highest bidder!"

Oh no. I blush from head to toe. I hadn't realized what this meant. How humiliating!

"It's for a good cause," barkat hisses at me, sensing my discomfort. "Besides, zain

will win." She rolls her eyes. "I can't imagine him letting anyone outbid him. He hasn't

taken his eyes off you all evening."

Yes, focus on the good cause, and zain is bound to win. Let's face it, he's not short

of a dime or two. But it means spending more money on you! my subconscious snarls at me. But I don't

want to dance with anyone else"I can't dance with anyone else"and it's not spending

money on me, he's donating it to the charity. Like the twenty-four thousand dollars he's

already spent? My subconscious narrows her eyes.

Shit. I seem to have gotten away with my impulsive bid. Why am I arguing with myself?

"Now, gentlemen, pray gather round, and take a good look at what could be yours for

the first dance. Twelve comely and compliant wenches."

Jeez! I feel like I'm in a meat market. I watch, horrified, as at least twenty men make

their way to the stage area, zain included, moving with easy grace between the tables

and pausing to say a few hellos on the way. Once the bidders are assembled, the MC begins.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in the tradition of the masquerade we shall maintain the mystery behind the masks and stick to first names only. First up we have the lovely Jada."

Jada is giggling like a schoolgirl, too. Maybe I won't be so out of place. She's dressed

head to foot in navy taffeta with a matching mask. Two young men step forward expectantly. Lucky Jada.

"Jada speaks fluent Japanese, is a qualified fighter pilot, and an Olympic gymnast . . .

hmm." The MC winks. "Gentleman, what am I bid?"

Jada gapes, astounded at the MC; obviously, he's talking complete garbage. She grins

shyly back at the two contenders.

"A thousand bucks!" one calls.

Very quickly the bidding escalates to five thousand dollars.

"Going once . . . going twice . . . sold!" the MC declares loudly, "to the gentleman in

the mask!" And of course all the men are wearing masks so there are hoots of laughter, applause, and cheering. Jada beams at her purchaser and quickly exits the stage.

"See? This is fun!" whispers barkat. "I hope zain wins you, though . . . We don't

want a brawl," she adds.

"Brawl?" I answer horrified.

"Oh yes. He was very hot-headed when he was younger." She shudders.

zain brawling? Refined, sophisticated, likes-Tudor-choral-music Zain? I

can't see it. The MC distracts me with his next introduction"a young woman in red, with

long jet-black hair.

"Gentlemen, may I present the wonderful Mariah. What are we going to do about

Mariah? She's an experienced matador, plays the cello to concert standard, and she's a

champion pole-vaulter . . . how about that, gentlemen? What am I bid, please, for a dance

with the delightful Mariah?"

Mariah glares at the MC and someone yells, very loudly, "Three thousand dollars!" It's

a masked man with blond hair and beard.

There is one counter-bid, but Mariah sells for four thousand dollars.

zain is watching me like a hawk.

"How long ago?" I ask barkat.

She glances at me, nonplussed.

"How long ago was zain brawling?"

"Early teens. Drove my parents crazy, coming home with cut lips and black eyes. He

was expelled from two schools. He inflicted some serious damage on his opponents."

I gape at her.

"Hasn't he told you?" She sighs. "He got quite a bad rep among my friends. He was

really persona non grata for a few years. But it stopped when he was about fifteen or sixteen." She shrugs.

Holy f**k. Another piece of the jigsaw falls into place.

"So, what am I bid for the gorgeous Jill?"

"Four thousand dollars," a deep voice calls from the left side. Jill squeals in delight.

I stop paying attention to the auction. So zain was in that kind of trouble at school,

fighting. I wonder why. I stare at him. Lily is watching us closely.

"And now, allow me to introduce the beautiful aliya."

Oh shit, that's me. I glance nervously at barkat, and she shoos me center stage. Fortunately, I don't fall over, but stand embarrassed as hell on display for everyone. When I look

at zain, he's smirking at me. The bas***d.

"Beautiful aliya plays six musical instruments, speaks fluent Mandarin, and is keen on

yoga . . . well, gentlemen"" Before he can even finish his sentence zain interrupts

him, glaring at the MC through his mask.

"Ten thousand dollars." I hear Lily's gasp of disbelief behind me.

Oh f**k.

"Fifteen."

What? We all turn as one to a tall, impeccably dressed man standing to the left of the

stage. I blink at Fifty. Shit, what will he make of this? But he's scratching his chin and

giving the stranger an ironic smile. It's obvious zain knows him. The stranger nods

politely at zain.

"Well, gentlemen! We have high rollers in the house this evening." The MC's excitement emanates through his harlequin mask as he turns to beam at zain. This is a great

show, but it's at my expense. I want to wail.

"Twenty," counters zain quietly.

The babble of the crowd has died. Everyone is staring at me, zain, and Mr. Mysterious by the stage.

"Twenty-five," the stranger says.

Could this be any more embarrassing?

zain stares at him impassively, but he's amused. All eyes are on zain. What's

he going to do? My heart is in my mouth. I feel sick.

"One hundred thousand dollars," he says his voice ringing clear and loud through the

marquee.

"What the f**k?" Lily hisses audibly behind me, and a general gasp of dismay and

amusement ripples through the crowd. The stranger holds his hands up in defeat, laughing,

and zain smirks at him. From the corner of my eye, I can see barkat bouncing up and

down with glee. My subconscious is gazing at zain, utterly gobsmacked.

"One-hundred thousand dollars for the lovely aliya! Going once . . . going twice . . ."

The MC stares at the stranger who shakes his head with mock regret and bows chivalrously.

"Sold!" the MC cries out triumphantly.In a deafening round of applause and cheering, zain steps forward to take my hand

and help me from the stage. He gazes at me with an amused grin as I make my way down,

kisses the back of my hand then tucks it into the crook of his arm, and leads me toward the

marquee's exit.

"Who was that?" I ask.

He gazes down at me. "Someone you can meet later. Right now, I want to show you

something. We have about thirty minutes until the First Dance Auction finishes. Then we

have to be back on the dance floor so that I can enjoy that dance I've paid for."

"A very expensive dance," I mutter disapprovingly.

"I'm sure it'll be worth every single cent." He smiles down at me wickedly. Oh, he has

a glorious smile, and the ache is back, blossoming in my body.

We're out on the lawn. I thought we would be heading to the boathouse, but disappointingly we seem to be heading for the dance floor where the big band is now setting up. There

are at least twenty musicians, and a few guests are milling about, furtively smoking"but

since most of the action is back in the marquee, we don't attract too much attention.

zain leads me to the rear of the house and opens a French window leading into

a large comfortable sitting room that I've not seen before. He walks through the deserted

hall toward the sweeping staircase with its elegant, polished wooden balustrade. Taking my

hand from the crook of his arm, he leads me up to the second floor and up another flight of

stairs to the third. Opening a white door, he ushers me into one of the bedrooms.

"This was my room," he says quietly, standing by the door and locking it behind him.

It's large, stark, and sparsely furnished. The walls are white as is the furniture; a spacious double bed, a desk and chair, shelves crammed with books and lined with various

trophies for kickboxing by the look of them. The walls are hung with movie posters: The

Matrix, Fight Club, The Truman Show, and two framed posters featuring kick boxers. One

is named Guiseppe DeNatale"I've never heard of him.

But what catches my eye is the white pin board above the desk, studded with a myriad

of photographs, Mariners pennants, and ticket stubs. It's a slice of young zain. My

eyes come back to the magnificent, beautiful man now standing in the center of the room.

He looks at me darkly, brooding and sexy.

"I've never brought a girl in here," he murmurs.

"Never?" I whisper.

He shakes his head.

I swallow convulsively, and the ache that has been bothering me for the last couple of

hours is roaring now, raw and wanting. Seeing him standing there on the royal blue carpet

in that mask . . . it's beyond erotic. I want him. Now. Any way I can get him. I have to resist

launching myself at him and ripping his clothes off. He waltzes over to me slowly.

"We don't have long, aliya, and the way I'm feeling right this moment, we won't

need long. Turn round. Let me get you out of that dress."

I turn and stare at the door, grateful that he's locked it. Bending down he whispers

softly in my ear, "Keep the mask on."

I groan as my body clenches in response. He's not even touched me yet.

He grasps the top of my dress, his fingers sliding against my skin, and the touch reverberates through my body. In one swift move, he opens the zipper. Holding my dress, he helps me to step out of it, then turns and drapes it artfully over the back of a chair. Removing his jacket, he places it over my dress. He pauses, and stares at me for a moment,

drinking me in. I'm in the basque and matching panties, and I revel in his sensuous gaze.

"You know, aliya," he says softly as he stalks toward me, undoing his bow tie so

it hangs from either side of his neck, then undoing the top three buttons of his shirt. "I was

so mad when you bought my auction lot. All manner of ideas ran through my head. I had to

remind myself that punishment is off the menu. But then you volunteered." He gazes down

at me through his mask. "Why did you do that?" he whispers.

"Volunteer? I don't know. Frustration . . . too much alcohol . . . worthy cause," I mutter

meekly, shrugging. Maybe to get his attention?

I needed him then. I need him more now. The ache is worse, and I know he can soothe

it, calm this roaring, salivating beast in me with the beast in him. His mouth presses into a

line, and he slowly licks his upper lip. I want that tongue on me.

"I vowed to myself I would not spank you again, even if you begged me."

"Please," I beg.

"But then I realized, you're probably very uncomfortable at the moment, and it's not

something you're used to." He smirks at me knowingly, arrogant bas***d, but I don't care

because he's absolutely right.

"Yes," I breathe.

"So, there might be a certain . . . latitude. If I do this, you must promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"You will safe word if you need to, and I will just make love to you, okay?"

"Yes." I'm panting. I want his hands on me.

He swallows, then takes my hand, and moves toward the bed. Throwing the duvet

aside, he sits down, grabs a pillow, and places it beside him. He gazes up at me standing

beside him and suddenly tugs hard on my hand so that I fall across his lap. He shifts slightly

so my body is resting on the bed, my chest on the pillow, my face to one side. Leaning over,

he sweeps my hair over my shoulder and runs his fingers through the plume of feathers on

my mask.

"Put your hands behind your back," he murmurs.

Oh! He removes his bow tie and uses it to quickly bind my wrists so that my hands are

tied behind me, resting in the small of my back.

"You really want this, Aliya?"

I close my eyes. This is the first time since I met him that I really want this. I need it.

"Yes," I whisper.

"Why?" he asks softly as he caresses my behind with his palm.

I groan as soon as his hand makes contact with my skin. I don't know why . . . You tell

me not to overthink. After a day like today"arguing about the money, Leila, Mrs. Robinson, the dossier on me, the roadmap, this lavish party, the masks, the alcohol, the silver

balls, the auction . . . I want this.

"Do I need a reason?"

"No, baby, you don't," he says. "I'm just trying to understand you." His left hand curls

round my waist, holding me in place as his palm leaves my behind and lands hard, just

above the junction of my thighs. The pain connects directly with the ache in my bellyOh man . . . I moan loudly. He hits me again, in exactly the same place. I groan again.

"Two," he murmurs. "We'll go with twelve."

Oh my! This feels different than the last time"so carnal, so . . . necessary. He caresses

my behind with his long-fingered hands, and I'm helpless, trussed up and pressed into the

mattress, at his mercy, and of my own free will. He hits me again, slightly to the side, and

again, to the other side, then pauses as he slowly peels my panties down and pulls them off.

He gently trails his palm across my behind again before continuing my spanking"each

stinging smack taking the edge off my need"or fueling it"I don't know. I surrender myself to the rhythm of blows, absorbing each one, savoring each one.

"Twelve," he murmurs his voice low and harsh. He caresses my behind again and trails

his fingers down toward my sex and slowly sinks two fingers inside me, moving them in a

circle, round and round and round, torturing me.

I moan loudly as my body takes over, and I come and come, convulsing around his

fingers. It's so intense, unexpected, and quick.

"That's right, baby," he murmurs appreciatively. He unties my wrists, keeping his fingers inside me as I lie panting and spent over him.

"I've not finished with you yet, aliya," he says and shifts without removing his

fingers. He eases my knees on to the floor so that now I'm leaning over the bed. He kneels

on the floor behind me and undoes his zipper. He slides his fingers out of me, and I hear

the familiar tear of a foil packet. "Open your legs," he growls and I comply. He strokes my

behind and eases into me.

"This is going to be quick, baby," he murmurs and grabbing my hips, he eases out then

slams into me.

"Ah!" I cry out but the fullness is heavenly. He's hitting the bellyache square on, again

and again, eradicating it with each sharp, sweet thrust. The feeling is mind-blowing, just

what I need. I push back to meet him, thrust for thrust.

"Aliya, no," he grunts, trying to still me. But I want him too much, and I grind against

him, matching him thrust for thrust.

"Aliya, shit," he hisses as he comes, and the tortured sound sets me off again, spiraling into a healing orgasm that goes on and on and wrings me out and leaves me spent and

breathless.

zain bends and kisses my shoulder then pulls out of me. Placing his arms around

me, he rests his head in the middle of my back, and we lie like this, both kneeling at the

bedside, for what? Seconds? Minutes even as our breathing calms. My bellyache has disappeared, and all I feel is a soothing, satisfying serenity.

zain stirs and kisses my back. "I believe you owe me a dance, Miss haider," he

murmurs.

"Hmm," I respond, savoring the absence of achiness and basking in the afterglow.

He sits back on his heels and pulls me off the bed onto his lap. "We don't have long.

Come on." He kisses my hair and forces me to stand.

I grumble but sit back down on the bed and collect my panties from the floor and scoop

them on. Lazily I walk to the chair to retrieve my dress. I note with dispassionate interest

that I did not remove my shoes during our illicit tryst. zain is tying his bow tie, having

finished straightening himself and the bed.As I slip my dress back on, I check out the photographs on the pin board. zain as

a sullen teen was gorgeous even then: with harshad and barkat on the ski slopes; on his own in

Paris, the Arc de Triomphe serving as a giveaway background; in London; New York; the

Grand Canyon; Sydney Opera House; even the Great Wall of China. Master Abdullah was well

traveled at a young age.

There are ticket stubs to various concerts: U2, Metallica, The Verve, Sheryl Crow, the

New York Philharmonic performing Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet"what an eclectic mix!

And in the corner, there's a passport-size photograph of a young woman. It's in black and

white. She looks familiar, but for the life of me, I can't place her. Not Mrs. Robinson, thank

heavens.

"Who's this?" I ask.

"No one of consequence," he mutters as he slips on his jacket and straightens his bow

tie. "Shall I zip you up?"

"Please. Then why is she on your pin board?"

"An oversight on my part. How's my tie?" He raises his chin like a small boy, and I

grin and straighten it for him.

"Now it's perfect."

"Like you," he murmurs and grabs me, kissing me passionately. "Feeling better?"

"Much, thank you, Mr. abdullah."

"The pleasure was all mine, Miss haider."

The guests are assembling on the dance floor. zain grins at me"we've made it just in

time"and he leads me onto the checkered floor.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the first dance. Mr. and Dr. abdullah, are you

ready?" Mr.abdullah nods in agreement, his arms around suraiyya.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the First Dance Auction, are you ready?" We all nod in

agreement. barkat is with someone I don't recognize. I wonder what happened to Sean?

"Then we shall begin. Take it away, Sam!"

A young man strolls onto the stage amid warm applause, turns to the band behind him

and snaps his fingers. The familiar strains of "I've Got You Under My Skin" fill the air.

zain smiles down at me, takes me in his arms, and starts to move. Oh, he dances

so well, making it easy to follow. We grin at each other like idiots as he whirls me around

the dance floor.

"I love this song," zai murmurs, gazing down at me. "Seems very fitting." He's

no longer grinning, but serious.

"You're under my skin, too," I respond. "Or you were in your bedroom."

He purses his lips but he's unable to hide his amusement.

"Miss haider," he admonishes me teasingly, "I had no idea you could be so crude."

"Mr. abdullah, neither did I. I think it's all my recent experiences. They've been an education.""For both of us." zain is serious again, and it could just be the two of us and the

band. We are in our own private bubble.

As the song finishes we both applaud. Sam the singer bows graciously and introduces

his band.

"May I cut in?"

I recognize the man who bid on me at the auction. zain grudgingly lets me go, but

he's amused, too.

"Be my guest. aliya, this is John Flynn. John, aliya."

Shit!

zain smirks at me and wanders off to one side of the dance floor.

"How do you do, aliya?" Dr. Flynn says smoothly, and I realize he's British.

"Hello," I stutter.

The band strikes up another song, and Dr. Flynn pulls me into his arms. He's much

younger than I imagined, though I can't see his face. He's wearing a mask similar to zain's. He's tall, but not as tall as zain, and he doesn't move with zain's easy

grace.

What do I say to him? Why is zain so f**ked-up? Why did he bid on me? It's the

only thing I want to ask him, but somehow that seems rude.

"I'm glad to finally meet you, aliya. Are you enjoying yourself?" he asks.

"I was," I whisper.

"Oh. I hope I'm not responsible for your change of heart." He gives me a brief, warm

smile that puts me a little more at ease.

"Doctor Flynn, you're the shrink. You tell me."

He grins. "That's the problem, isn't it? The shrink bit?"

I giggle. "I'm worried what I might reveal, so I'm a little self-conscious and intimidated. And really I only want to ask you about Zain."

He smiles. "First, this is a party so I'm not on duty," he whispers conspiratorially. "And

second, I really can't talk to you about Zain. Besides," he teases, "we'd need until

Christmas."

I gasp in shock.

"That's a doctor's joke, Aliya."

I flush, embarrassed, and then feel slightly resentful. He's making a joke at Zain's

expense. "You've just confirmed what I've been saying to Zain . . . that you're an expensive charlatan," I admonish him.

Dr. Flynn snorts with laughter. "You could be onto something there."

"You're British?"

"Yes. Originally from London."

"How did you find yourself here?"

"Happy circumstance."

"You don't give much away, do you?"

"There's not much to give away. I'm really a very dull person."

"That's very self-deprecating."

"It's a British trait. Part of our national character."

"Oh.""And I could accuse you of the same, Aliya."

"That I'm a dull person, too, Dr. Flynn?"

He snorts. "No, Aliya, that you don't give much away."

"There's not much to give away." I smile.

"I sincerely doubt that." He unexpectedly frowns.

I flush, but the music finishes and Zain is once more by my side. Dr. Flynn releases

me.

"It's been a pleasure to meet you, Aliya." He gives me his warm smile again, and

I feel that I've passed some kind of hidden test.

"John." Zain nods at him.

"Zain." Dr. Flynn returns his nod, turns on his heel, and disappears through the

crowd.

Zain pulls me into his arms for the next dance.

"He's much younger than I expected," I murmur to him. "And terribly indiscreet."

Zain cocks his head to one side. "Indiscreet?"

"Oh yes, he told me everything," I tease.

Zain tenses. "Well, in that case, I'll get your bag. I'm sure you want nothing more

to do with me," he says softly.

I stop. "He didn't tell me anything!" My voice fills with panic.

Zain blinks before relief floods his face. He pulls me into his arms again. "Then

let's enjoy this dance." He beams down, reassuring me, then spins me round.

Why would he think that I'd want to leave? It makes no sense.

We dance for two more numbers, and I realize I need the restroom.

"I won't be long."

As I make my way to the powder room, I remember I have left my purse on the dinner

table, so I head down to the marquee. When I enter, it's still lit but quite deserted, except

for a couple at the other end, who really ought to get a room! I reach for my bag.

"Aliya?"

A soft voice startles me, and I turn to see a woman dressed in a long, tight, black velvet

gown. Her mask is unique. It covers her face to her nose but also covers her hair. It's stunning with elaborate gold filigree.

"I'm so glad you're on your own," she says softly. "I've been wanting to talk to you

all evening."

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you are."

She pulls the mask from her face and releases her hair.

Shit! It's Mrs. Robinson.

"I'm sorry, I startled you."

I gape at her. Holy cow"what the f**k does this woman want?

I don't know what the social conventions are for meeting known molesters of children.

She's smiling sweetly and gesturing for me to sit at the table. And because I am lacking

any sphere of reference, I do as she asks out of stunned politeness, grateful that I am still

wearing my mask.

"I'll be brief, Aliya. I know what you think of me . . . Zain's told me."I gaze at her impassively, giving nothing away, but I'm pleased that she knows. It saves

me telling her, and she's cutting to the chase. Part of me is beyond intrigued as to what she

could have to say.

She pauses, glancing over my shoulder. "Taylor's watching us."

I peek around to see him scanning the tent by the doorway. Sawyer is with him. They

are looking anywhere but at us.

"Look, we don't have long," she says hurriedly. "It must be obvious to you that Zain is in love with you. I have never seen him like this, ever." She emphasizes the last

word.

What? Loves me? No. Why is she telling me? To reassure me? I don't understand.

"He won't tell you because he probably doesn't realize it himself, notwithstanding

what I've said to him, but that's Zain. He's not very attuned to any positive feelings

and emotions he may have. He dwells far too much on the negative. But then you've probably worked that out for yourself. He doesn't think he's worthy."

I am reeling. Zain loves me? He hasn't said it, and this woman has told him that's

how he feels? How bizarre.

A hundred images dance through my head: the iPad, the gliding, flying to see me, all

his actions, his possessiveness, one hundred thousand dollars for a dance. Is this love?

And hearing it from this woman, having her confirm it for me is, frankly, unwelcome.

I'd rather hear it from him.

My heart constricts. He feels unworthy? Why?

"I've never seen him so happy, and it's obvious that you have feelings for him, too." A

brief smile flits across her lips. "That's great, and I wish you both the best of everything.

But what I wanted to say is if you hurt him again, I will find you, lady, and it won't be

pleasant when I do."

She stares at me, ice-cold blue eyes boring into my skull, trying to get under my mask.

Her threat is so astonishing, so off the wall that an involuntary, disbelieving giggle escapes

me. Of all the things she could say to me, this is the least expected.

"You think this is funny, Aliya?" she splutters in dismay. "You didn't see him last

Saturday."

My face falls and darkens. The thought of Zain unhappy is not a palatable one, and

last Saturday I left him. He must have gone to her. The idea makes me queasy. Why am I

sitting here listening to this shit from her of all people? I slowly rise, gazing at her intently.

"I'm laughing at your audacity, Mrs. Lincoln. Zain and I have nothing to do with

you. And if I do leave him and you come looking for me, I'll be waiting"don't doubt it.

And maybe I'll give you a taste of your own medicine on behalf of the fifteen-year-old

child you molested and probably f**ked-up even more than he already was."

Her mouth falls open.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than waste my time with you."

I turn on my heel, adrenaline and anger coursing through my body, and stalk toward the

entrance of the tent where Taylor is standing just as Zain arrives, looking flustered and

worried.

"There you are," he mutters, then frowns when he sees Elena.I stride past him, saying nothing, giving him the opportunity to choose"her or me. He

makes the right choice.

"Aliya," he calls. I stop and face him as he catches up with me. "What's wrong?" He

gazes down at me, concern etched on his face.

"Why don't you ask your ex?" I hiss acidly.

His mouth twists and his eyes frost. "I'm asking you," he says, his voice soft but with

an undertone of something far more menacing.

We glare at each other.

Okay, I can see this will end in a fight if I don't tell him. "She's threatening to come

after me if I hurt you again"probably with a whip," I snap at him.

Relief flashes across his face, his mouth softening with humor. "Surely the irony of that

isn't lost on you?" he says, and I can tell he's trying hard to stifle his amusement.

"This isn't funny, Zain!"

"No, you're right. I'll talk to her." He adopts his serious face, though he's still suppressing his amusement.

"You will do no such thing." I fold my arms, my anger spiking again.

He blinks at me, surprised by my outburst.

"Look, I know you're tied up with her financially, forgive the pun, but"" I stop. What

am I asking him to do? Give her up? Stop seeing her? Can I do that? "I need the restroom."

I glare up at him, my mouth set in a grim line.

He sighs and cocks his head to one side. Could he look any hotter? Is it the mask or

just him?

"Please don't be mad. I didn't know she was here. She said she wasn't coming." His

tone is placating as if he's talking to a child. Reaching up he runs his thumb along my pouting bottom lip. "Don't let Elena ruin our evening, please, Aliya. She's really old news."

Old being the operative word, I think uncharitably, as he tips my chin up and gently

grazes his lips against mine. I sigh in agreement, blinking up at him. He straightens and

takes my elbow.

"I'll accompany you to the powder room so you don't get interrupted again."

He leads me across the lawn toward the luxurious temporary restrooms. Barkat said they

had been delivered for the occasion, but I had no idea they came in deluxe versions.

"I'll wait here for you, baby," he murmurs.

When I come out, my mood has moderated. I have decided not to let Mrs. Robinson

blight my evening because that's probably what she wants. Zain is on the phone some

distance away and out of earshot of the few people laughing and chatting nearby. As I get

closer, I can hear him. He's very terse.

"Why did you change your mind? I thought we'd agreed. Well, leave her alone . . . This

is the first regular relationship I've ever had, and I don't want you jeopardizing it through

some misplaced concern for me. Leave. Her. Alone. I mean it, Elena." He pauses, listening.

"No, of course not." He frowns deeply as he says this. Glancing up, he sees me regarding

him. "I have to go. Goodnight." He presses the off button.

I cock my head to one side and raise an eyebrow at him. Why is he phoning her?

"How's the old news?""Cranky," he replies sardonically. "Do you want to dance some more? Or would you

like to go?" He glances at his watch. "The fireworks start in five minutes."

"I love fireworks."

"We'll stay and watch them, then." He puts his arms around me and pulls me close.

"Don't let her come between us, please."

"She cares about you," I mutter.

"Yes, and I her . . . as a friend."

"I think it's more than a friendship to her."

His brow furrows. "Aliya, Elena and I . . . it's complicated. We have a shared history. But it is just that, history. As I've said to you time and time again, she's a good friend.

That's all. Please, forget about her." He kisses my hair, and in the interest of not ruining our

evening, I let it go. I am just trying to understand.

We wander hand in hand back to the dance floor. The band is still in full swing.

"Aliya."

I turn to find Mr abdullah standing behind us.

"I wondered if you'd do me the honor of the next dance." He holds his hand out

to me. Zain shrugs and smiles, releasing my hand, and I let Mr Abdullah lead me onto the

dance floor. Sam the bandleader launches into "Come Fly with Me," and Mr Abdullah puts his

arm around my waist and gently whirls me into the throng.

"I wanted to thank you for the generous contribution to our charity, aliya."

From his tone, I suspect this is his roundabout way of asking whether I can afford it.

"Mr. Abdullah""

"Call me Usman, please, Aliya." What a coincidence, he has the same name as my mothers partner,how did I not know this before?

"I'm delighted to be able to contribute. I unexpectedly came into some money. I don't

need it. And it's such a worthy cause."

He smiles down at me, and I seize the opportunity for some innocent inquiries. Carpe

diem, my subconscious hisses from behind her hand.

"zain told me a little about his past, so I think it's appropriate to support your

work," I add, hoping that this might encourage Usman to give me a small insight into the

mystery that is his son.

usman is surprised. "Did he? That's unusual. You certainly have had a very positive

effect on him, aliya. I don't think I've ever seen him so, so . . . buoyant."

I flush.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Well, in my limited experience, he's a very unusual man," I murmur.

"He is," usman agrees quietly.

"zain's early childhood sounds hideously traumatic, from what he's told me."

usman frowns, and I worry if I've overstepped the mark.

"My wife was the doctor on duty when the police brought him in. He was skin and

bones, and badly dehydrated. He wouldn't speak." usman frowns again, lost in the awful

memory, despite the up-tempo music surrounding us. "In fact, he didn't speak for nearly

two years. It was playing the piano that eventually brought him out of himself. Oh, and

Barkat's arrival, of course." He smiles down at me fondly."He plays beautifully. And he's accomplished so much, you must be very proud of

him." I sound distracted. Holy Shit. Didn't speak for two years.

"Immensely so. He's a very determined, very capable, very bright young man. But

between you and me, aliya, it's seeing him like he is this evening"carefree, acting his

age"that's the real thrill for his mother and me. We were both commenting on it today. I

believe we have you to thank for that."

I think I blush to my roots. What am I supposed to say to this?

"He's always been such a loner. We never thought we'd see him with anyone. Whatever you're doing, please don't stop. We'd like to see him happy." He stops suddenly as if

he's overstepped the mark. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

I shake my head. "I'd like to see him happy, too," I mutter, unsure of what else to say.

"Well, I'm very glad you came this evening. It's been a real pleasure seeing the two of

you together."

As the final strains of "Come Fly with Me" fade away, usman releases me and bows,

and I curtsey, mirroring his civility.

"That's enough dancing with old men." zain is at my side again. usman laughs.

"Less of the old,' son. I've been known to have my moments." usman winks at me

playfully and saunters into the crowd.

"I think my dad likes you," zain mutters as he watches his father mingle with the

crowd..

"What's not to like?" I peek coquettishly up at him through my lashes.

"Good point well made, Miss haider." He pulls me into an embrace as the band starts

to play "It Had to Be You."

"Dance with me," he whispers seductively.

"With pleasure, Mr. Abdullah." I smile in response, and he sweeps me across the dance

floor once more.

At midnight, we stroll down toward the shore between the marquee and the boathouse

where the other partygoers are gathered to watch the fireworks. The MC, back in charge,

has permitted the removal of masks, the better to see the display. zain has his arm

around me, but I'm aware that Taylor and Sawyer are close by, probably because we're in

the crowd now. They are looking anywhere but at the dockside where two pyrotechnicians

dressed in black are making their final preparations. Seeing Taylor reminds me of Leila.

Perhaps she's here. Shit. The thought chills my blood, and I huddle closer to zain. He

gazes down at me as he pulls me closer.

"You okay, baby? Cold?"

"I'm fine." I glance quickly behind us and see the other two security guys, whose

names I forget, standing close by. Moving me in front of him, zain puts both his arms

around me over my shoulders.

Suddenly, a stirring classical soundtrack booms over the dock and two rockets soar into

the air, exploding with a deafening bang over the bay, lighting it all in a dazzling canopy of sparkling orange and white that's reflected in a glittering shower over the still calm water

of the bay. My jaw drops as several more rockets fire into the air and explode in a kaleidoscope of color.

I can't recall ever seeing a display this impressive, except perhaps on television, and

it never looks this good on TV. They're all in time to the music. Volley after volley, bang

after bang, and light after light as the crowd answers with gasps and ooohs and ahhs. It is

out of this world.

On the pontoon in the bay several silver fountains of light shoot up twenty feet in the

air, changing color through blue, red, orange, and back to silver"and yet more rockets

explode as the music reaches its crescendo.

My face is beginning to ache from the ridiculous grin of wonder plastered across it. I

glance at Fifty, and he's the same, marveling like a child at the sensational show. For the

finale a volley of six rockets shoot into the dark and explode simultaneously, bathing us in

a glorious golden light as the crowd erupts into frantic, enthusiastic applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the MC calls out as the cheers and whistles fade. "Just one

note to add at the end of this wonderful evening; your generosity has raised a total of one

million, eight hundred and fifty three thousand dollars!"

Spontaneous applause erupts again, and out on the pontoon, a message lights up in silver streams of sparks forming the words Thank You From Coping Together, sparkling and

shimmering over the water.

"Oh, zain . . . that was wonderful." I grin up at him and he bends down to kiss me.

"Time to go," he murmurs, a broad smile on his beautiful face, and his words hold so

much promise.

Suddenly, I feel very tired.

He glances up again, and Taylor is close, the crowd dispersing around us. They don't

speak but something passes between them.

"Stay with me a moment. Taylor wants us to wait while the crowd disperses."

Oh.

"I think that firework display probably aged him a hundred years," he adds.

"Doesn't he like fireworks?"

zain gazes down at me fondly and shakes his head but doesn't elaborate.

"So, Aspen," he says, and I know he's trying to distract me from something. It works.

"Oh . . . I haven't paid for my bid," I gasp.

"You can send a check. I have the address."

"You were really mad."

"Yes, I was."

I grin. "I blame you and your toys."

"You were quite overcome, Miss haider. A most satisfactory outcome if I recall." He

smiles salaciously. "Incidentally, where are they?"

"The silver balls? In my bag."

"I'd like them back." He smirks down at me. "They are far too potent a device to be

left in your innocent hands."

"Worried I might be quite overcome again, maybe with somebody else?"His eyes glitter dangerously. "I hope that's not going to happen," he says, a cool edge

to his voice. "But no, aliya. I want all your pleasure."

Whoa. "Don't you trust me?"

"Implicitly. Now, can I have them back?"

"I'll think about it."

He narrows his eyes at me.

There's music once more from the dance floor but it's a DJ playing a thumping dance

number, the bass pounding out a relentless beat.

"Do you want to dance?"

"I'm really tired, zain. I'd like to go, if that's okay."

zain glances at Taylor, who nods, and we set off toward the house, following a

couple of drunken guests. I'm grateful when zain takes my hand"my feet are aching

from the dizzying height and tight confinement of my shoes.

Mia comes bounding up to us. "You're not going, are you? The real music's just beginning. Come on, Aliya." She grabs my hand.

"barkat," zain admonishes her. "aliya's tired. We're going home. Besides, we

have a big day tomorrow."

We do?

barkat pouts but surprisingly doesn't push zain.

"You must come by sometime next week. Maybe we can hit the mall?"

"Sure, barkat." I grin, though in the back of my mind I'm wondering how since I have to

work for a living.

She gives me a quick kiss then hugs zain fiercely, taking us both by surprise. More

astoundingly still, she places her hands directly on the lapels of his jacket, and he just gazes

down at her, indulgently.

"I like seeing you this happy," she says sweetly and kisses him on the cheek. "Bye. You

guys have fun." She skips off toward her waiting friends"among them Lily, who looks

even more sour-faced without her mask.

I wonder idly where Sean is.

"We'll say goodnight to my parents before we leave. Come." zain leads me

through a gaggle of guests to suraiyya and usman, who wish us fond and warm farewells.

"Please do come again, aliya, it's been lovely having you here," says suraiyya kindly.

I am a little overwhelmed by both her and usman's reaction. Fortunately, suraiyya's parents have retired for the evening, so at least I am spared their enthusiasm.

Quietly, zain and I walk hand in hand to the front of the house where countless

cars are lined up and waiting to collect guests. I glance up at Fifty. He looks happy and

relaxed. It's a real pleasure to see him this way, though I suspect it's unusual after such an

extraordinary day.

"Are you warm enough?" he asks.

"Yes, thank you." I clasp my satin wrap.

"I really enjoyed this evening, aliya. Thank you."

"Me too, some parts more than others." I grin.

He grins and nods, then his brow creases. "Don't bite your lip," he warns in a way that

makes my blood sing."What did you mean about a big day tomorrow?" I ask to distract myself.

"Dr. Greene is coming to sort you out. Plus, I have a surprise for you."

"Dr. Greene!" I halt.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I hate condoms," he says quietly. His eyes glint in the soft light from the

paper lanterns, gauging my reaction.

"It's my body," I mutter, annoyed that he hasn't asked me.

"It's mine, too," he whispers.

I gaze up at him as various guests pass by, ignoring us. He looks so earnest. Yes, my

body is his . . . he knows it better than I do.

I reach up, and he flinches ever so slightly but stays still. Grasping the corner of his

bow tie, I pull so it unravels, revealing the top button of his shirt. Gently I undo it.

"You look hot like this," I whisper. Actually he looks hot all the time, but really hot

like this.

He smirks at me. "I need to get you home. Come."

At the car, Sawyer hands zain an envelope. He frowns at it and glances at me as

Taylor ushers me into the car. Taylor looks relieved for some reason. zain climbs in

and hands me the envelope, unopened, as Taylor and Sawyer take their seats in the front.

"It's addressed to you. One of the staff gave it to Sawyer. No doubt from yet another

ensnared heart." Zain's mouth twists. It's obvious this is an unpleasant concept to him.

I stare at the note. Who is this from? Ripping it open, I read it quickly in the dim light.

Holy shit, it's from her! Why won't she leave me alone?

I may have misjudged you. And you have definitely misjudged me. Call me if you need to fill in any of the blanks-we could have lunch. Zain doesn't want me talking to you, but I would be more than happy to help.Don't get me wrong,I approve,believe me-but so help me,if you hurt him..he's been hurt enough. Call me: (206) 279-6261

Mrs Robinson'

f**k, she's signed it Mrs. Robinson! He told her. The bas***d.

"You told her?"

"Told who, what?"

"That I call her Mrs. Robinson," I snap.

"It's from Elena?" zain is shocked. "This is ridiculous," he grumbles, running a

hand through his hair, and I can tell he's irritated. "I'll deal with her tomorrow. Or Monday," he mutters bitterly. And though I'm ashamed to admit it, a very small part of me is pleased. My subconscious nods sagely. Elena is pissing him off, and this can only be good"surely. I decide to

say nothing for now but stash her note in my bag, and in a gesture guaranteed to lighten his

mood, I hand him back the balls.

"Until next time," I murmur.

He glances at me, and it's hard to see his face in the dark, but I think he's smirking. He

reaches for my hand and squeezes it.

I gaze out of the window into the darkness, reflecting on this long day. I've learned so

much about him, gleaned so many missing details"the salons, the road map, his childhood"but there's still so much more to discover. And what about Mrs. R? Yes, she cares

for him, and deeply, it would appear. I can see that, and he cares for her"but not in the

same way. I don't know what to think anymore. All this information is making my head

hurt.

zain wakes me just as we pull up outside Escala. "Do I need to carry you in?" he asks

gently.

I shake my head sleepily. No way.

As we stand in the elevator, I lean against him, putting my head against his shoulder.

Sawyer stands in front of us, shifting uncomfortably.

"It's been a long day, eh, aliya?"

I nod.

"Tired?"

I nod.

"You're not very talkative."

I nod and he grins.

"Come. I'll put you to bed." He takes my hand as we exit the elevator, but we stop in

the foyer when Sawyer holds up his hand. In that split second, I am instantly wide awake.

Sawyer talks into his sleeve. I had no idea that he was wearing a radio.

"Will do, T," he says and turns to face us. "Mr. abdullah, the tires on Ms. Haider's Audi

have been slashed and paint thrown all over it."

Holy shit. My car! Who would do that? And I know the answer as soon as the question

materializes in my mind. Leila. I glance up at zain, and he blanches.

"Taylor is concerned that the perp may have entered the apartment and may still be

there. He wants to make sure."

"I see," Christian whispers. "What's Taylor's plan?"

"He's coming up in the service elevator with Ryan and Reynolds. They'll do a sweep

then give us the all clear. I'm to wait with you, sir."

"Thank you, Sawyer." zain tightens his arm around me. "This day just gets better

and better," he sighs bitterly, nuzzling my hair. "Listen, I can't stand here and wait. Sawyer,

take care of Miss haider. Don't let her in until you have the all clear. I am sure Taylor is

overreacting. She can't get into the apartment."What? "No, zain"you have to stay with me," I plead.

zain releases me. "Do as you're told, aliya. Wait here."

No!

"Sawyer?" zain says.

Sawyer opens the foyer door to let zain enter the apartment then shuts the door

behind him and stands in front of it, staring impassively down at me.

Holy shit. zain! All manner of horrific outcomes run through my mind, but all I

can do is stand and wait.

love both parr.
zain eventually open up with aliya.
ZaYa relationship now look really like a real one.
I love how zain took aliya side not Mrs.Robinson.
thanks for pm.

Read all 7 chapters in one go ..

Omg they r so so amazing

Love u for giving us this amazing story in zaya version

Thanks for the pm

Lots of love

Alina

Just read it mean this is getting cuter I am officially in for such zain ..lol