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

Originally posted by: katmaan

It was beautiful ...and hot

Originally posted by: Zainedil

I really loved zains character it had so many layers on it ... Beautiful n he was so lavish n still at ease with her
Nice read
Sim

Chap10

"Mac will be back soon," he murmurs.

"Hmm." My eyes flicker open to meet his soft gray gaze. Lord, his eyes are an amazing

color"especially here, out on the sea"reflecting the light bouncing off the water through

the small portholes into the cabin.

"As much as I'd like to lie here with you all afternoon, he'll need a hand with the dinghy." Leaning over, zain kisses me tenderly. "aliya, you look so beautiful right now, all

mussed up and sexy. Makes me want you more." He smiles and rises from the bed. I lay on

my front admiring the view.

"You ain't so bad yourself, captain." I smack my lips in admiration and he grins.

I watch him move gracefully about the cabin as he dresses. He really is divinely beautiful, and what's more, he's just made such sweet love to me again. I can hardly believe my

good fortune. I can't quite believe that this man is mine. He sits down beside me to put on

his shoes.

"Captain, eh?" he says dryly. "Well, I am master of this vessel."

I cock my head to one side. "You are master of my heart, Mr. abdullah." And my body . . .

and my soul.He shakes his head incredulously and bends to kiss me. "I'll be on deck. There's a

shower in the bathroom if you want one. Do you need anything? A drink?" he asks solicitously, and all I can do is grin at him. Is this the same man? Is this the same Fifty?

"What?" he says, reacting to my stupid grin.

"You."

"What about me?"

"Who are you and what have you done with zain?"

He lips twitch with a sad smile.

"He's not very far away, baby," he says softly, and there's a touch of melancholy in his

voice that makes me instantly regret asking the question. But he shakes it off. "You'll see

him soon enough""he smirks at me""especially if you don't get up." Reaching over, he

smacks me hard on my behind so I yelp and laugh at the same time.

"You had me worried."

"Did I, now?" zains brow creases. "You do give off some mixed signals, aliya. How's a man supposed to keep up?" He leans down and kisses me again. "Laters, baby," he adds, and with a dazzling smile, he gets up and leaves me to my scattered

thoughts.

When I surface on deck, Mac is back on board, but he disappears onto the upper deck as

I open the saloon doors. zain is on his Blackberry. Talking to whom? I wonder. He

wanders over and pulls me close, kissing my hair.

"Great news . . . good. Yeah . . . Really? The fire escape stairwell? . . . I see . . . Yes,

tonight."

He hits the end button, and the sound of the engines firing up startles me. Mac must be

in the cockpit above.

"Time to head back," zain says, kissing me once more as he straps me into my

lifejacket.

The sun is low in the sky behind us as we make our way back to the marina, and I reflect

on a wonderful afternoon. Under zains careful, patient tuition, I have now stowed a

mainsail, a headsail, and a spinnaker and learned to tie a reef knot, clove hitch, and sheepshank. His lips were twitching throughout the lesson.

"I may tie you up one day," I mutter crabbily.

His mouth twists with humor. "You'll have to catch me first, Miss haider."

His words bring to mind him chasing me round the apartment, the thrill, then the hideous aftermath. I frown and shudder. After that, I left him.

Would I leave him again now that he's admitted he loves me? I gaze up into his clear

gray eyes. Could I ever leave him again"no matter what he did to me? Could I betray him

like that? No. I don't think I could.

He's given me a more thorough tour of this beautiful boat, explaining all the innovative designs and techniques, and the high-quality materials used to build it. I remember the interview when I first met him. I picked up then on his passion for ships. I thought his

love was only for the ocean-going freighters his company builds"not for super-sexy, sleek

catamarans, too.

And, of course, he's made sweet, unhurried love to me. I shake my head, remembering my body bowed and wanting beneath his expert hands. He is an exceptional lover, I'm

sure"though, of course, I have no comparison. But Kate would have raved more if it was

always like this; it's not like her to hold back on details.

But how long will this be enough for him? I just don't know, and the thought is unnerving.

Now he sits, and I stand in the safe circle of his arms for hours, it seems, in comfortable, companionable silence as The suraiyya glides closer and closer to Seattle. I have the

wheel, zain advising on adjustments every so often.

"There is poetry in sailing as old as the world,"

1

he murmurs in my ear.

"That sounds like a quote."

I sense his grin. "It is. Antoine de Saint-Exupry."

"Oh . . . I adore The Little Prince."

"Me, too."

It is early evening as zain, his hands still on mine, steers us into the marina. There are

lights winking from the boats, reflecting off the dark water, but it is still light"a balmy,

bright evening, an overture for what is sure to be a spectacular sunset.

A crowd gathers on the dockside as zain slowly turns the boat around in a relatively small space. He does it with ease and reverses smoothly into the same berth we left

earlier. Mac jumps on to the dock and ties The suraiyya securely to a bollard.

"Back again," zain murmurs.

"Thank you," I murmur shyly. "That was a perfect afternoon."

zain grins. "I thought so, too. Perhaps we can enroll you in sailing school, so we

can go out for a few days, just the two of us."

"I'd love that. We can christen the bedroom again and again."

He leans forward and kisses me under my ear. "Hmm . . . I look forward to it, aliya," he whispers, making every single hair follicle on my body stand to attention.

How does he do that?

"Come, the apartment is clean. We can go back."

"What about our things at the hotel?"

"Taylor has collected them already."

Oh! When?

"Earlier today, after he did a sweep of The suraiyya with his team." zain answers my

unspoken question.

"Does that poor man ever sleep?"

"He sleeps." zain quirks an eyebrow at me, puzzled. "He's just doing his job,

aliya, which he's very good at. Jason is a real find."

"Jason?"

"Jason Taylor."

I remember when I thought Taylor was his first name. Jason. It suits him"solid, reliable. For some reason it makes me smile.

"You're fond of Taylor," zain says, eyeing me with speculation.

"I suppose I am." His question derails me. He frowns. "I'm not attracted to him, if

that's why you're frowning. Stop."

zain is almost pouting"sulky.

Jeez, he's such a child sometimes. "I think Taylor looks after you very well. That's why

I like him. He seems kind, reliable and loyal. He has an avuncular appeal to me."

"Avuncular?"

"Yes."

"Okay, avuncular." zain is testing the word and meaning. I laugh.

"Oh, zain, grow up, for heaven's sake."

His mouth drops open, surprised by my outburst, but then he frowns as if considering

my statement. "I'm trying," he says eventually.

"That you are. Very." I answer softly but then roll my eyes at him.

"What memories you evoke when you roll your eyes at me, aliya." He grins.

I smirk at him. "Well, if you behave yourself, maybe we can relive some of those

memories."

His mouth twists with humor. "Behave myself?" He raises his eyebrows. "Really, Miss

haider"what makes you think I want to relive them?"

"Probably the way your eyes lit up like Christmas when I said that."

"You know me so well already," he says dryly.

"I'd like to know you better."

He smiles softly. "And I you, aliya."

"Thanks, Mac." zain shakes McConnell's hand and steps on the dock.

"Always a pleasure, Mr. abdullah, and good-bye. aliya, great to meet you."

I shake his hand shyly. He must know what Christian and I were up to on the boat while

he went ashore.

"Good day, Mac, and thank you."

He grins at me and winks, making me flush. zain takes my hand, and we walk up

the dock to the marina's promenade.

"Where's Mac from?" I ask, curious about his accent.

"Ireland . . . Northern Ireland," zain corrects himself.

"Is he your friend?"

"Mac? He works for me. Helped build The suraiyya."

"Do you have many friends?"He frowns. "Not really. Doing what I do . . . I don't cultivate friendships. There's

only"" He stops, his frown deepening, and I know he was going to mention Mrs. Robinson.

"Hungry?" he asks, trying to change the subject.

I nod. Actually, I'm famished.

"We'll eat where I left the car. Come."

Next to SP's is a small Italian bistro called Bee's. It reminds me of the place in Portland"a

few tables and booths, the dcor very crisp and modern with a large black and white photograph of a turn-of-the-century fiesta serving as a mural.

zain and I are seated in a booth, poring over the menu and sipping a delicious light

Frascati. When I glance up from the menu, having made my choice, zain is gazing at

me speculatively.

"What?" I ask.

"You look lovely, aliya. The outdoors agrees with you."

I flush. "I feel rather wind-burned to tell the truth. But I had a lovely afternoon. A perfect afternoon. Thank you."

He smiles, his eyes warm. "My pleasure," he murmurs.

"Can I ask you something?" I decide on a fact-finding mission.

"Anything, aliya. You know that." He cocks his head to one side, looking delicious.

"You don't seem to have many friends. Why is that?"

He shrugs and frowns. "I told you, I don't really have time. I have business associates"though that's very different from friendships, I suppose. I have my family and that's

it. Apart from Elena."

I ignore the mention of the bitch-troll. "No male friends your own age that you can go

out with and let off steam?"

"You know how I like to let off steam, aliya." zains mouth twists. "And I've

been working, building up the business." He looks puzzled. "That's all I do"except sail

and fly occasionally."

"Not even in college?"

"Not really."

"Just Elena, then?"

He nods, his expression wary.

"Must be lonely."

His lips curl in a small wistful smile. "What would you like to eat?" he asks, changing

the subject again.

"I'm going for the risotto."

"Good choice." zain summons the waiter, putting an end to that conversation.

After we've placed our order, I shift uncomfortably in my seat, staring at my knotted

fingers. If he's in a talking mood, I need to take advantage.

I have to talk to him about his expectations, about his, um . . . needs."aliya, what's wrong? Tell me."

I glance up into his concerned face.

"Tell me," he says more forcefully, and his concern evolves into what? Fear? Anger?

I take a deep breath. "I'm just worried that this isn't enough for you. You know, to let

off steam."

His jaw tenses and his eyes harden. "Have I given you any indication that this isn't

enough?"

"No."

"Then why do you think that?"

"I know what you're like. What you . . . um . . . need," I stutter.

He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead with long fingers.

"What do I have to do?" His voice is ominously soft as if he's angry, and my heart

sinks.

"No, you misunderstand"you have been amazing, and I know it's just been a few

days, but I hope I'm not forcing you to be someone you're not."

"I'm still me, aliya"in all my fifty shades of f**kedupness. Yes, I have to fight the

urge to be controlling . . . but that's my nature, how I've dealt with my life. Yes, I expect

you to behave a certain way, and when you don't it's both challenging and refreshing. We

still do what I like to do. You let me spank you after your outrageous bid yesterday." He

smiles fondly at the memory. "I enjoy punishing you. I don't think the urge will ever go . . .

but I'm trying, and it's not as hard as I thought it would be."

I squirm and flush, remembering our illicit tryst in his childhood bedroom. "I didn't

mind that," I whisper, smiling shyly.

"I know." His lips curl in a reluctant smile. "Neither did I. But let me tell you, aliya, this is all new to me and these last few days have been the best in my life. I don't want

to change anything."

Oh!

"They've been the best in my life, too, without exception," I murmur and his smile

broadens. My inner goddess nods frantically in agreement"and nudges me hard. Okay,

okay.

"So you don't want to take me into your playroom?"

He swallows and pales, all trace of humor gone. "No, I don't."

"Why not?" I whisper. This is not the answer I expected.

And yes, there it is, that little pinch of disappointment. My inner goddess stomps off

pouting, her arms crossed like an angry toddler.

"The last time we were in there you left me," he says quietly. "I will shy away from

anything that could make you leave me again. I was devastated when you left. I explained

that. I never want to feel like that again. I've told you how I feel about you." His gray eyes

are wide and intense with his sincerity.

"But it hardly seems fair. It can't be very relaxing for you"to be constantly concerned

about how I feel. You've made all these changes for me, and I . . . I think I should reciprocate in some way. I don't know"maybe . . . try . . . some role-playing games," I stutter, my

face as crimson as the walls of the playroom. Why is this so hard to talk about? I have done all manner of kinky f**kery with this

man, things I hadn't even heard of a few weeks ago, things that I would never have thought

possible, yet the hardest of all is talking to him.

"aliya, you do reciprocate, more than you know. Please, please don't feel like this."

Gone is carefree zain. His eyes are wider now with alarm, and it's gut-wrenching.

"Baby, it's only been one weekend," he continues. "Give us some time. I thought a great

deal about us last week when you left. We need time. You need to trust me, and I you.

Maybe in time we can indulge, but I like how you are now. I like seeing you this happy,

this relaxed and carefree, knowing that I had something to do with it. I have never"" He

stops and runs his hand through his hair. "We have to walk before we can run." Suddenly

he smirks.

"What's so funny?"

"Flynn. He says that all the time. I never thought I'd be quoting him."

"A Flynnism."

zain laughs. "Exactly."

The waiter arrives with our starters and bruschetta, and our conversation changes tack

as zain relaxes.

But when the unfeasibly large plates are placed before us, I can't help think how I have

thought of zain today"relaxed, happy and carefree. At least he's laughing now, at

ease again.

I breathe an inward sigh of relief as he starts quizzing me about places I've been. This

is a short discussion, since I have never been anywhere except the continental US. zain, on the other hand, has traveled the world. We slip into an easier, happier conversation,

talking about all the places he's visited.

After our tasty and filling meal, zain drives back to Escala, Eva Cassidy's gentle sweet

voice singing over the speakers. It allows me a peaceful interlude in which to think. I have

had a mind-blowing day. Dr. Greene, our shower, zains admission, making love at the

hotel and on the boat, buying the car. Even zain himself has been so different. It's as

if he's letting go of something or rediscovering something"I don't know.

Who knew he could be so sweet? Did he?

When I glance at him, he, too, looks lost in thought. It strikes me then that he never

really had an adolescence"a normal one anyway. I shake my head.

My mind drifts back to the ball and dancing with Dr. Flynn and zain fear that

Flynn had told me all about him. Christian is still hiding something from me. How can we

move on if he feels that way?

He thinks I might leave if I know him. He thinks that I might leave if he's himself. Oh,

this man is so complicated.

As we get closer to his home, he starts radiating tension until it becomes palpable. As

we drive, he scans the sidewalks and side alleys, his eyes darting everywhere, and I know

he's looking for Leila. I start looking, too. Every young brunette is a suspect, but we don't

see her. When he pulls into the garage, his mouth is set in a tense, grim line. I wonder why

we've come back here if he's going to be so wary and uptight. Sawyer is in the garage,

patrolling. The defiled Audi is gone. He comes to open my door as zain pulls in beside

the SUV.

"Hello, Sawyer," I murmur my greeting.

"Miss haider." He nods. "Mr. abdullah."

"No sign?" zain asks.

"No, sir."

zain nods, grasps my hand, and heads for the elevator. I know his brain is working

overtime"he's distracted. Once we're inside he turns to me.

"You are not allowed out of here alone. You understand?" he snaps.

"Okay." Jeez"keep your hair on. But his attitude makes me smile. I want to hug myself"now this man, all domineering and short with me I know. I marvel that I would have

found it so threatening only a week or so ago when he spoke to me this way. But now, I

understand him so much better. This is his coping mechanism. He's stressed about Leila,

he loves me, and he wants to protect me.

"What's so funny?" he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his expression.

"You are."

"Me? Miss haider? Why am I funny?" he pouts.

zain pouting is . . . hot.

"Don't pout."

"Why?" He's even more amused.

"Because it has the same effect on me as I have on you when I do this." I bite my lip

deliberately.

He raises his eyebrows, surprised and pleased at the same time. "Really?" He pouts

again and leans down to give me a swift chaste kiss.

I raise my lips to meet his, and in the nanosecond when our lips touch, the nature of

the kiss changes"wildfire spreading through my veins from this intimate point of contact,

driving me to him.

Suddenly, my fingers are curling in his hair as he grabs me and pushes me against

the elevator wall, his hands framing my face, holding me to his lips as our tongues thrash

against each other. And I don't know if it's the confines of the elevator making everything

much more real, but I feel his need, his anxiety, his passion.

Holy shit. I want him, here, now.

The elevator pings to a halt, the doors slide open, and zain drags his face from

mine, his hips still pinning me to the wall, his erection digging into me.

"Whoa," he murmurs panting.

"Whoa," I mirror him, dragging a welcome breath into my lungs.

He gazes at me, eyes blazing. "What you do to me, aliya." He traces my lower lip with

his thumb.

Out of the corner of my eye, Taylor steps backward so he's no longer in my line of

sight. I reach up and kiss zain at the corner of his beautifully sculptured mouth.

"What you do to me, zain."

He steps back and takes my hand, his eyes darker now, hooded. "Come," he orders.Taylor is still in the foyer, waiting discreetly for us.

"Good evening, Taylor," zain says cordially.

"Mr. abdullah, Miss haider."

"I was Mrs. Taylor yesterday." I grin at Taylor, who flushes.

"That has a nice ring to it, Miss haider," Taylor says matter-of-factly.

"I thought so, too."

zain tightens his hold on my hand, scowling. "If you two have quite finished, I'd

like a debrief." He glares at Taylor, who now looks uncomfortable, and I cringe inwardly.

I have overstepped the mark.

"Sorry," I mouth at Taylor, who shrugs and smiles kindly before I turn to follow zain.

"I'll be with you shortly. I just want a word with Miss haider," zain says to Taylor,

and I know I'm in trouble.

zain leads me into his bedroom and closes the door.

"Don't flirt with the staff, aliya," he scolds.

I open my mouth to defend myself"then close it again, then open it. "I wasn't flirting.

I was being friendly"there is a difference."

"Don't be friendly with the staff or flirt with them. I don't like it."

Oh. Good-bye, carefree zain. "I'm sorry," I mutter and stare down at my fingers.

He hasn't made me feel like a child all day. Reaching down he cups my chin, pulling my

head up to meet his eyes.

"You know how jealous I am," he whispers.

"You have no reason to be jealous, zain. You own me body and soul."

He blinks as if he's finding this fact hard to process. He leans down and kisses me

quickly, but with none of the passion we experienced a moment ago in the elevator.

"I won't be long. Make yourself at home," he says sulkily and turns, leaving me standing in his bedroom, dazed and confused.

Why on earth would he be jealous of Taylor? I shake my head in disbelief.

Glancing at the alarm clock, I notice it's just after eight. I decide to get my clothes

ready for work tomorrow. I head upstairs to my room and open the walk-in closet. It's

empty. All the clothes have gone. Oh no! zain has taken me at my word and disposed

of the clothes. Shit.

My subconscious glares at me. Well, that will be you and your big mouth.

Why did he take me at my word? My mother's advice comes back to haunt me, "Men

are so literal, darling." I pout, staring at the empty space. There were some lovely clothes,

too, like the silver dress I wore to the ball.

I wander disconsolately into the bedroom, Wait a moment"what is going on? The iPad

is gone. Where's my Mac? Oh no. My first uncharitable thought is that Leila may have

stolen them.

I fly back downstairs and back into zain's bedroom. On the bedside table are my

Mac, my iPad, and my satchel. It's all here.

I open the walk-in closet door. My clothes are here"all of them"sharing space with

zains clothes. When did this happen? Why does he never warn me before he does

things like this?I turn, and he's standing in the doorway.

"Oh, they managed the move," he mutters, distracted.

"What's wrong?" I ask. His face is grim.

"Taylor thinks Leila was getting in through the emergency stairwell. She must have

had a key. All the locks have been changed now. Taylor's team has done a sweep of every

room in the apartment. She's not here." He stops and runs a hand through his hair. "I wish

I knew where she was. She's evading all our attempts to find her when she needs help."

He frowns, and my earlier pique vanishes. I put my arms around him. Folding me into his

embrace, he kisses my hair.

"What will you do when you find her?" I ask.

"Dr. Flynn has a place."

"What about her husband?"

"He's washed his hands of her." zains tone is bitter. "Her family is in Connecticut. I think she's very much on her own out there."

"That's sad."

"Are you okay with all your stuff being here? I want you to share my room," he murmurs.

Whoa, quick change of direction.

"Yes."

"I want you sleeping with me. I don't have nightmares when you're with me."

"You have nightmares?"

"Yes."

I tighten my hold around him. Holy cow. More baggage. My heart contracts for this

man.

"I was just getting my clothes ready for work tomorrow," I mutter.

"Work!" zain exclaims as if it's a dirty word, and he releases me, glaring.

"Yes, work," I reply, confused by his reaction.

He stares at me with complete incomprehension. "But Leila"she's out there," he

pauses. "I don't want you to go to work."

What? "That's ridiculous, zain. I have to go to work."

"No, you don't."

"I have a new job, which I enjoy. Of course I have to go to work." What does he mean?

"No, you don't," he repeats, emphatically.

"Do you think I am going to stay here twiddling my thumbs while you're off being

Master of the Universe?"

"Frankly . . . yes."

Oh, Fifty, Fifty, Fifty . . . give me strength.

"zain, I need to go to work."

"No, you don't."

"Yes. I. Do." I say it slowly as if he's a child.

He scowls at me. "It's not safe."

"zain . . . I need to work for a living, and I'll be fine."

"No, you don't need to work for a living"and how do you know you'll be fine?" He's

almost shouting.What does he mean? He's going to support me? Oh, this is beyond ridiculous"I've

known him for what"five weeks?

He's angry now, his gray eyes stormy and flashing, but I don't give a shit.

"For heaven's sake, zain, Leila was standing at the end of your bed, and she didn't

harm me, and yes, I do need to work. I don't want to be beholden to you. I have my student

loans to pay."

His mouth presses into a grim line, as I place my hands on my hips. I am not budging

on this. Who the f**k does he think he is?

"I don't want you going to work."

"It's not up to you, zain. This is not your decision to make."

He runs his hand through his hair as he stares at me. Seconds, minutes tick by as we

glare at each other.

"Sawyer will come with you."

"zain, that's not necessary. You're being irrational."

"Irrational?" he growls. "Either he comes with you, or I will be really irrational and

keep you here."

He wouldn't, would he? "How, exactly?"

"Oh, I'd find a way, aliya. Don't push me."

"Okay!" I concede, holding up both my hands, placating him. Holy f**k"Fifty is back

with a vengeance.

We stand, scowling at each other.

"Okay"Sawyer can come with me if it makes you feel better." I concede rolling my

eyes. zain narrows his and takes a menacing step in my direction. I immediately step

back. He stops and takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and runs both his hands through his

hair. Oh no. Fifty is well and truly wound up.

"Shall I give you a tour?"

A tour? Are you kidding me? "Okay," I mutter warily. Another change of tack"Mr.

Mercurial is back in town. He holds out his hand and when I take it, he squeezes mine

softly.

"I didn't mean to frighten you."

"You didn't. I was just getting ready to run," I quip.

"Run?" zain eyes widen.

"I'm joking!" Oh jeez.

He leads me out of the closet, and I take a moment to calm down. Adrenaline is still

coursing through my body. A fight with Fifty is not to be undertaken lightly.

He gives me a tour of the apartment, showing me the various rooms. Along with the

playroom and three spare bedrooms upstairs, I'm intrigued to find that Taylor and Mrs.

Jones have a wing to themselves"a kitchen, spacious living area, and a bedroom each.

Mrs. Jones has not yet returned from visiting her sister who lives in Portland.

Downstairs, the room that catches my eye is opposite his study"a TV room with a

too-large plasma screen and assorted games consoles. It's cozy.

"So you do have an Xbox?" I smirk."Yes, but I'm crap at it. harshad always beats me. That was funny, when you thought

I meant this room was my playroom." He grins down at me his snit-fit forgotten. Thank

heavens he's recovered his good mood.

"I'm glad you find me amusing, Mr. abdullah," I respond haughtily.

"That you are, Miss haider"when you're not being exasperating, of course."

"I'm usually exasperating when you're being unreasonable."

"Me? Unreasonable?"

"Yes, Mr. abdullah. Unreasonable could be your middle name."

"I don't have a middle name."

"Unreasonable would suit then."

"I think that's a matter of opinion, Miss haider."

"I would be interested in Dr. Flynn's professional opinion."

zain smirks.

I follow him out of the TV room through the

great room to the main corridor past the utility room and an impressive wine cellar and

into Taylor's own large, well-equipped office. Taylor stands when we enter. There's room

in here for a meeting table that seats six. Above one desk is a bank of monitors. I had no

idea the apartment had CCTV. It appears to monitor the balcony, stairwell, service elevator,

and foyer.

"Hi, Taylor. I'm just giving aliya a tour."

Taylor nods but doesn't smile. I wonder if he's been told off, too, and why is he still

working? When I smile at him, he nods politely. zain grabs my hand once more and

leads me to the library.

"And, of course, you've been in here." zain opens the door. I spy the green baize

of the billiard table.

"Shall we play?" I ask. zain smiles, surprised.

"Okay. Have you played before?"

"A few times," I lie, and he narrows his eyes, cocking his head to one side.

"You're a hopeless liar, aliya. Either you've never played before or""

I lick my lips. "Frightened of a little competition?"

"Frightened of a little girl like you?" zain scoffs good-naturedly.

"A wager, Mr. abdullah."

"You're that confident, Miss haider?" He smirks, amused and incredulous at once.

"What would you like to wager?"

"If I win, you'll take me back into the playroom."

He gazes at me as if he can't quite comprehend what I've said. "And if I win?" he asks

after several shell-shocked beats.

"Then it's your choice."

His mouth twists as he contemplates his answer. "Okay, deal." He smirks. "Do you

want to play pool, English snooker or carom billiards?"

"Pool, please. I don't know the others."From a cupboard beneath one of the bookshelves, zain takes out a large leather

case. Inside the pool balls are nested in velvet. Quickly and efficiently, he racks the balls on

the baize. I don't think I've ever played pool on such a large table before. zain hands

me a cue and some chalk.

"Would you like to break?" He feigns politeness. He's enjoying himself"he thinks

he's going to win.

"Okay." I chalk the end of my cue, and blow the excess chalk off"staring up at zain through my lashes. His eyes darken as I do.

I line up on the white ball and with a swift clean stroke, hit the center ball of the triangle square on with such force that a striped ball spins and plunges into the top right pocket.

I've scattered the rest of the balls.

"I choose stripes," I say innocently, smiling coyly at zain. His mouth twists in

amusement.

"Be my guest," he says politely.

I proceed to pocket the next three balls in quick succession. Inside, I'm dancing. At this

moment, I am so grateful to rehaan for teaching me to play pool and play it well. zain

watches impassively, giving nothing away, but his amusement seems to ebb. I miss the

green stripe by a hairsbreadth.

"You know, aliya, I could stand here and watch you leaning and stretching across

this billiard table all day," he says appreciatively.

I flush. Thank heavens I am wearing my jeans. He smirks. He's trying to put me off

my game, the bas***d. He pulls his cream sweater over his head, tosses it onto the back of

a chair, and grins at me, as he saunters over to take his first shot.

He bends low over the table. My mouth goes dry. Oh, I see what he means. zain in

tight jeans and white T-shirt, bending, like that . . . is something to behold. I quite lose my

train of thought. He sinks four solids rapidly, then fouls by sinking the white.

"A very elementary mistake, Mr. abdullah," I tease.

He smirks. "Ah, Miss haider, I am but a foolish mortal. Your go, I believe." He waves

at the table.

"You're not trying to lose are you?"

"Oh no. For what I have in mind as the prize, I want to win, aliya." He shrugs

casually. "But then, I always want to win."

I narrow my eyes at him. Right then . . . I'm so glad I'm wearing my blue blouse,

which is pleasingly low-cut. I stalk around the table, bending low at every available opportunity"giving zain an eyeful of my behind and my cleavage whenever I can. Two

can play at that game. I glance at him.

"I know what you're doing," he whispers, his eyes dark.

I tilt my head coquettishly to one side, gently fondling my cue, running my hand up and

down it slowly. "Oh. I am just deciding where to take my next shot," I murmur distractedly.

Leaning across, I hit the orange stripe into a better position. I then stand directly in

front of zain and take the rest from underneath the table. I line up my next shot, leaning right over the table. I hear zains sharp intake of breath, and of course, I miss. Shit.

He comes to stand behind me while I am still bent over the table and places his hand

on my backside. Hmm . . ."Are you waving this around to taunt me, Miss haider?" And he smacks me, hard.

I gasp. "Yes," I mutter, because it's true.

"Be careful what you wish for, baby."

I rub my behind as he wanders to the other end of the table, leans over, and takes his

shot. Jeez, I could look at him all day. He hits the red ball, and it shoots into the left side

pocket. He aims for the yellow, top right, and it just misses. I grin.

"Red Room here we come," I taunt him.

He merely raises an eyebrow and directs me to continue. I make quick work of the

green stripe and by some fluke, manage to knock in the final orange stripe.

"Name your pocket," zain murmurs, and it's as if he's talking about something

else, something dark and rude.

"Top left-hand." I take aim over the black, hit it, but miss. It skirts wide. Damn.

zain smiles a wicked grin as he leans over the table and makes short work of the

two remaining solids. I am practically panting, watching him, his lithe body stretching over

the table. He stands and chalks his cue, his eyes burning into me.

"If I win . . ."

Oh yes?

"I am going to spank you, then f**k you over this billiard table."

Holy shit. Every single muscle south of my navel clenches hard.

"Top right," he murmurs, pointing to the black, and bends to take the shot.

Chap11

With easy grace, zain taps the white ball so that it glides across the table, kisses the

black and oh-so-slowly the black rolls, teeters on the edge, and finally drops into the top

right pocket of the billiard table.

Damn.

He stands, and his mouth twists in a triumphant I-so-own-you-Haider smile. Putting

down his cue, he saunters casually toward me, all tousled hair, jeans, and white T-shirt. He

doesn't look like a CEO"he looks like a bad boy from the wrong side of town. Holy cow,

he's so f**king sexy.

"You're not going to be a sore loser, are you?" he murmurs, barely containing his grin.

"Depends how hard you spank me," I whisper, holding on to my cue for support. He

takes my cue and puts it to one side, hooks his finger into the top of my shirt, and pulls me

toward him.

"Well, let's count your misdemeanors, Miss haider." He counts on his long fingers.

"One, making me jealous of my own staff. Two, arguing with me about working. And

three, waving your delectable derriere at me for the last twenty minutes." His eyes glow a soft gray with excitement, and leaning down, he rubs his nose against

mine. "I want you to take your jeans and this very fetching shirt off. Now." He plants a

feather-soft kiss on my lips, wanders nonchalantly over to the door, and locks it.

Oh my.

When he turns and gazes at me, his eyes are burning. I stand paralyzed like a complete

zombie, my heart pounding, my blood pumping, not actually able to move a muscle. In my

mind, all I can think is"this is for him"the thought repeating like a mantra over and over

again.

"Clothes, aliya. You appear to still be wearing them. Take them off"or I will do

it for you."

"You do it." I finally find my voice, and it sounds low and heated. zain grins.

"Oh, Miss haider. It's a dirty job, but I think I can rise to the challenge."

"You normally rise to most challenges, Mr. abdullah." I raise an eyebrow at him, and he

smirks.

"Why, Miss haider, whatever do you mean?" On his way over to me, he pauses at the

small desk built into one of the bookshelves. Reaching over, he picks up a twelve-inch

Perspex ruler. He holds each end and flexes it, his eyes not leaving mine.

Holy shit"his weapon of choice. My mouth goes dry.

Suddenly, I'm hot and bothered and damp in all the right places. Only zain could

turn me on with just a look and the flex of a ruler. He slips it into the back pocket of his

jeans and ambles toward me, eyes dark and full of promise. Without saying a word, he

drops to his knees in front of me and starts to undo my laces, quickly and efficiently, dragging both my Converse and socks off. I lean on the side of the billiard table so I don't fall.

Gazing down at him as he undoes my laces, I marvel at the depth of feeling that I have for

this beautiful flawed man. I love him.

He grabs my hips, slips his fingers into the waistband of my jeans, and undoes the

button and zipper. He peers up through his long lashes, grinning his most salacious grin as

he slowly peels my jeans off. I step out of them, glad that I'm wearing these pretty, pretty

panties, and he grasps the back of my legs and runs his nose along the apex of my thighs.

I practically melt.

"I want to be quite rough with you, aliya. You'll have to tell me to stop if it's too much,"

he breathes.

Oh my. He kisses me . . . there. I moan softly.

"Safe word?" I murmur.

"No, no safe word, just tell me to stop, and I'll stop. Understand?" He kisses me again,

nuzzling me. Oh, that feels good. He stands, his stare intense. "Answer me," he orders his

voice velvet soft.

"Yes, yes, I understand." I'm puzzled by his insistence.

"You've been dropping hints and giving me mixed signals all day, aliya," he says.

"You said you were worried I'd lost my edge. I'm not sure what you meant by that, and I

don't know how serious you were, but we are going to find out. I don't want to go back into

the playroom yet, so we can try this now, but if you don't like it, you must promise to tell

me." A burning intensity born of his anxiety replaces his earlier cockiness.Whoa, please don't be anxious, zain. "I'll tell you. No safe word," I reiterate to

reassure him.

"We're lovers, aliya. Lovers don't need safe words." He frowns. "Do they?"

"I guess not," I murmur. Jeez"how do I know? "I promise."

He searches my face for any clue that I might lack the courage of my convictions, and

I'm nervous but excited, too. I'm much happier to do this, knowing that he loves me. It's

very simple to me, and right now, I don't want to overthink it.

A slow smile stretches across his face, and he starts to unbutton my shirt, his deft fingers making short work of it, though he doesn't take it off. He leans over and picks up the

cue.

Oh f**k, what's he going to do with that? A frisson of fear runs through me.

"You play well, Miss haider. I must say I'm surprised. Why don't you sink the black?"

My fear forgotten, I pout, wondering why the hell he should be surprised"sexy, arrogant bas***d. My inner goddess is limbering up in the background, doing her floor exercises"a great fat smile on her face.

I position the white ball. zain strolls back around the table and stands right behind

me as I lean over to take my shot. He places his hand on my right thigh and runs his fingers

up and down my leg, up to my behind and back again, lightly stroking me.

"I am going to miss if you keep doing that," I whisper, closing my eyes and relishing

the feel of his hands on me.

"I don't care if you hit or miss, baby. I just wanted to see you like this"partially

dressed, stretched out on my billiard table. Do you have any idea how hot you look at the

moment?"

I flush, and my inner goddess grabs a rose between her teeth and starts to tango. Taking a deep breath, I try to ignore him and line up my shot. It's impossible. He caresses my

behind, over and over again.

"Top left," I murmur, then hit the white ball. He smacks me hard, squarely on my

backside.

It's so unexpected, I yelp. The white hits the black, which bounces off the cushion wide

of the pocket. zain caresses my behind again.

"Oh, I think you need to try that again," he whispers. "You should concentrate, aliya."

I am panting now, excited by this game. He strolls to the end of the table, sets up the

black ball again, then runs the white ball back down to me. He looks so carnal, dark eyed

with a lascivious smile. How could I ever resist this man? I catch the ball and line it up,

ready to strike again.

"Uh-uh," he admonishes. "Just wait." Oh, he just loves prolonging the agony. He wanders back and stands behind me again. I close my eyes once more as he strokes my left

thigh this time then fondles my backside again.

"Take aim," he breathes.

I can't help my moan as desire twists and turns inside me. And I try, really try, to think

about where I should hit the black with the white. I shift slightly to my right, and he follows

me. I bend over the table once more. Using every last vestige of inner strength"which has diminished considerably since I know what will happen once I strike the white ball"I take

aim and hit the white again. zain smacks me once more, hard.

Ow! I miss again. "Oh no!" I groan.

"Once more, baby. And if you miss this time, I'm really going to let you have it."

What? Have what?

He sets up the black ball once more and walks, achingly slow, back to me until he's

standing behind me, caressing my backside once more.

"You can do it," he coaxes.

Oh"not when you're distracting me like this. I push my behind back against his hand,

and he smacks me lightly.

"Eager, Miss haider?" he murmurs.

Yes. I want you.

"Well, let's get rid of these." He gently slides my panties down my thighs and off. I

can't see what he does with them, but he leaves me feeling exposed as he plants a soft kiss

on each cheek.

"Take the shot, baby."

I want to whimper, this is so not going to happen. I know I am going to miss. I line up

the white, hit it, and in my impatience, miss the black completely. I wait for the blow"but

it doesn't come. Instead he leans right over me, flattening me against the table, takes the cue

out of my hand and rolls it to the side cushion. I can feel him, hard, against my backside.

"You missed," he says softly in my ear. My cheek is pressed against the baize. "Put

your hands flat on the table."

I do as he says.

"Good. I'm going to spank you now and next time, maybe you won't." He shifts so

he's standing to my left side, his erection against my hip.

I groan and my heart leaps into my mouth. My breath comes in short pants and a hot,

heavy excitement courses through my veins. Gently, he caresses my behind and curls his

other hand around the nape of my neck, his fingers fisting in my hair, his elbow at my back,

holding me down. I am completely helpless.

"Open your legs," he murmurs and for a moment, I hesitate. And he smacks me hard"

with the ruler! The noise is harsher than the sting, and it takes me by surprise. I gasp, and

he hits me again.

"Legs," he orders. I open my legs, panting. The ruler strikes again. Ow"it stings, but

its crack across my skin sounds worse than it feels.

I close my eyes and absorb the pain. It's not too bad, and zain's breathing becomes

harsher. He hits me again and again, and I moan. I am not sure how many more strokes I

can bear"but hearing him, knowing how turned on he is, feeds my arousal and my willingness to continue. I am crossing to the dark side, a place in my psyche I don't know well

but have visited before in the playroom"with the Tallis. The ruler strikes once more, and I

moan loudly, and zain groans in response. He hits me again"and again . . . and once

more . . . harder this time"and I wince.

"Stop." The word is out of my mouth before I'm even aware that I've said it. zain

drops the ruler immediately and releases me.

"Enough?" he whispers."Yes."

"I want to f**k you now," he says, his voice strained.

"Yes," I murmur with longing. He undoes his fly, as I lie panting on the table, knowing

that he's going to be rough.

I marvel once more at how I have managed"and yes, enjoyed" what he's done to me

up to this point. It's so dark but so him.

He eases two fingers inside me and moves them in a circular motion. The feeling is

exquisite. Closing my eyes, I revel in the sensation. I hear the telltale rip of foil, then he's

standing behind me, between my legs, pushing them wider.

Slowly he sinks into me, filling me. I hear his groan of pure pleasure, and it stirs my

soul. He grasps my hips firmly, eases out of me again, and this time slams back into me,

causing me to cry out. He stills for a moment.

"Again?" he asks softly.

"Yes . . . I'm fine. Lose yourself . . . take me with you," I murmur breathlessly.

He moans low in his throat, eases out of me once more, then slams into me, and repeats

this over and over slowly, deliberately"a punishing, brutal, heavenly rhythm.

Oh f**king my . . . My insides begin to quicken. He feels it, too, and increases the

rhythm, pushing me, higher, harder, faster"and I surrender, exploding around him"a

draining, soul-grabbing orgasm that leaves me spent and exhausted.

I'm vaguely aware that zain, too, is letting go, calling my name, his fingers digging into my hips, and then he stills and collapses on me. We sink to the floor, and he

cradles me in his arms.

"Thank you, baby," he breathes, covering my upturned face in soft feather-light kisses.

I open my eyes and gaze up at him, and he wraps his arms tighter around me.

"Your cheek is pink from the baize," he murmurs, rubbing my face tenderly. "How was

that?" His eyes are wide and cautious.

"Teeth-clenchingly good," I mutter. "I like it rough, zain, and I like it gentle, too.

I like that it's with you."

He closes his eyes and hugs me even tighter.

Jeez, I'm tired.

"You never fail, Aliya. You are beautiful, bright, challenging, fun, sexy, and I thank

divine providence every day that it was you that came to interview me and not yasmin

khan." He kisses my hair. I smile and yawn against his chest. "I'm wearing you out,"

he continues. "Come. Bath, then bed."

We are both in zains bath, facing each other chin-deep in foam, the sweet scent of

jasmine enveloping us. zain is massaging my feet, one at a time. It feels so good it

should be illegal.

"Can I ask you something?" I murmur.

"Of course. Anything, Aliya, you know that."

I take a deep breath and sit up, flinching only slightly."Tomorrow"when I go to work"can Sawyer just deliver me to the front door of the

office then pick me up at the end of the day? Please, zain. Please," I plead.

His hands still as his brow creases. "I thought we agreed," he grumbles.

"Please," I beg.

"What about lunchtime?"

"I'll make myself something to take from here so I don't have to go out, please."

He kisses my instep. "I find it very difficult to say no to you," he mutters as if he senses

this is a failing on his part. "You won't go out?"

"No."

"Okay."

I beam at him. "Thank you." I lean up onto my knees, sloshing water everywhere, and

kiss him.

"You're most welcome, Miss haider. How's your behind?"

"Sore. But not too bad. The water is soothing."

"I'm glad you told me to stop," he says, gazing at me.

"So is my behind."

He grins.

I stretch out in bed, so tired. It's only ten thirty, but it feels like three in the morning. This

has to be one of the most exhausting weekends of my life.

"Didn't Ms. Acton provide any nightwear?" zain asks, his voice laced with disapproval as he stares down at me.

"I have no idea. I like wearing your T-shirts," I mumble sleepily.

His face softens, and he leans over and kisses my forehead.

"I need to work. But I don't want to leave you alone. Can I use your laptop to log in to

the office? Will I disturb you if I work from here?"

"S'not my laptop." I drift.

The alarm clicks on, startling me awake with the traffic news. zain is still asleep beside me. Rubbing my eyes, I glance at the clock. Six thirty"too early.

It's raining outside for the first time in ages, and the light is muted and mellow. I'm

cozy and comfortable in this vast modern monolith with zain at my side. I stretch and

turn to the delicious man beside me. His eyes spring open and he blinks sleepily.

"Good morning." I smile and caress his face, leaning down to kiss him.

"Good morning, baby. I usually wake before the alarm goes off," he murmurs in wonder.

"It's set so early."

"That it is, Miss haider." zain grins. "I have to get up." He kisses me, and then he's

up and out of bed. I flop back against the pillows. Wow, waking up on a school day next to

zain abdullah. How did this all happen? I close my eyes and doze."Come on, sleepyhead, get up." zain leans over me. He's shaved, clean, fresh"

Hmm, he smells so good"in a crisp white shirt and black suit, no tie"the CEO is back.

Holy Moses, he looks good like this, too.

"What?" he asks.

"I wish you'd come back to bed."

His lips part, surprised by my come-on, and he smiles almost shyly. "You are insatiable, Miss haider. As much as that idea appeals, I have an eight thirty meeting, so I have

to go shortly."

Oh, I've slept for another hour or so. Shit. I leap out of bed, much to zains amusement.

I shower and dress quickly, wearing the clothes I set out yesterday: a fitted, gray pencil

skirt; pale-gray silk shirt; and high-heeled black pumps, all care of my new wardrobe. I

brush my hair and carefully put it up, then wander out to the great room, not really knowing

what to expect. How am I going to get to work?

zain is sipping coffee at the breakfast bar. Mrs. Jones is in the kitchen making

pancakes and bacon.

"You look lovely," zain murmurs. Wrapping an arm around me, he kisses me under my ear. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Mrs. Jones's smile. I flush.

"Good morning, Miss haider," she says as she places pancakes and bacon in front of

me.

"Oh, thank you. Good morning," I mumble. Jeez"I could get used to this.

"Mr. abdullah says you'd like to take lunch with you to work. What would you like to eat?"

I glance at zain, who is trying very hard not to smirk. I narrow my eyes at him.

"A sandwich . . . salad. I really don't mind." I beam at Mrs. Jones.

"I'll rustle up a packed lunch for you, ma'am."

"Please, Mrs. Jones, call me Aliya."

"Aliya." She smiles and turns to make me tea.

Wow . . . this is so cool.

I turn and cock my head at zain, challenging him"go on, accuse me of flirting

with Mrs. Jones.

"I have to go, baby. Taylor will come back and drop you at work with Sawyer."

"Only to the door."

"Yes. Only to the door." zain rolls his eyes. "Be careful, though."

I glance around and spy Taylor standing in the entranceway. zain stands and kisses

me, grasping my chin.

"Laters, baby."

"Have a good day at the office, dear," I call after him. He turns and flashes me his beautiful smile then he's gone. Mrs. Jones hands me a cup of tea, and suddenly I feel awkward

with just the two of us here.

"How long have you worked for zain?" I ask, thinking I ought to make some kind

of conversation."Four years or so," she says pleasantly, as she sets about making my packed lunch.

"You know, I can do that," I mutter, embarrassed that she should be doing this for me.

"You eat your breakfast, aliya. This is what I do. I enjoy it. It's nice to look after someone other than Mr. Taylor and Mr. abdullah." She smiles very sweetly at me.

My cheeks pink with pleasure, and I want to bombard this woman with questions. She

must know so much about Fifty, and although her manner is warm and friendly, it's also

very professional. I know I'll only embarrass both of us if I start quizzing her, so I finish

my breakfast in a reasonably comfortable silence, punctuated only by her questions on my

food preferences for lunch.

Twenty-five minutes later Sawyer appears at the entrance to the great room. I have

brushed my teeth, and I'm waiting to go. Clutching my brown paper lunch bag"I can't

even remember my mom doing this for me"Sawyer and I head to the first floor via the

elevator. He's very taciturn, too, giving nothing away. Taylor is waiting in the Audi, and I

climb into the rear passenger seat when Sawyer opens the door.

"Good morning, Taylor," I say brightly.

"Miss haider." He smiles.

"Taylor, I'm sorry about yesterday and my inappropriate remarks. I hope I didn't get

you into trouble."

Taylor frowns in bemusement at me from the rearview mirror as he pulls out into the

Seattle traffic.

"Miss haider, I'm rarely in trouble," he says reassuringly.

Oh good. Maybe zain didn't tell him off. Just me, then, I think sourly.

"I'm glad to hear it, Taylor." I smile.

Jack gazes at me, assessing my appearance, as I make my way to my desk.

"Morning, Aliya. Good weekend?"

"Yes, thanks. You?"

"It was good. Get settled in"I have work for you to do."

I nod and sit down at my computer. It seems like years since I was at work. I switch

on my computer and fire up my e-mail program"and of course there's an e-mail from

zain.

From: zain

Subject: Boss

Date: June 13, 2011 08:24

To: aliya

Good morning, Miss haider

I just wanted to say thank you for a wonderful weekend in spite of all the drama.

I hope you never leave, ever.And just to remind you that the news of SIP is embargoed for four weeks.

Delete this e-mail as soon as you've read it.

Yours

zain,

CEO, abdullah Enterprises Holdings Inc. & Your boss's boss's boss.

Hope I never leave? Does he want me to move in? Holy Moses . . . I barely know the man.

I press delete.

From: aliya

Subject: Bossy

Date: June 13, 2011: 09:03

To: zain

Dear Mr. Abdullah

Are you asking me to move in with you? And of course, I remembered that the evidence

of your epic stalking capabilities is embargoed for another four weeks. Do I make a check

out to Coping Together and send to your dad? Please don't delete this e-mail. Please

respond to it.

ILY xxx

Aliya

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

"Aliya!" Jack makes me jump.

"Yes," I flush, and Jack frowns at me.

"Everything okay?"

"Sure." I scramble up and take my notebook into his office.

"Good. As you probably remember, I'm going to that Commissioning Fiction Symposium in New York on Thursday. I have tickets and reservations, but I'd like you to come

with me."

"To New York?"

"Yes. We'll need to go Wednesday and stay overnight. I think you'll find it a very educational experience." His eyes darken as he says this, but his smile is polite. "Would you

make the necessary travel arrangements? And book an additional room at the hotel where I

am staying? I think Sabrina, my previous PA, left all the details handy somewhere."

"Okay." I smile wanly at Jack.

Crap. I wander back to my desk. This is not going to go down well with Fifty"but the

fact is, I want to go. It sounds like a real opportunity, and I'm sure I can keep Jack at arm's

length if that's his ulterior motive. Back at my desk there's a response from zain.

From: zain

Subject: Me, Bossy?

Date: June 13, 2011 09:07

To: aliya

Yes. Please.

zain,

Jeez . . . he does want me to move in. Oh, zain"it's too soon. I put my head in my

hands to try and recover my wits. This is all I need after my extraordinary weekend. I

haven't had a moment to myself to think through and understand all that I have experienced

and discovered these last two days.

From: aliya

Subject: Flynnisms

Date: June 13, 2011: 09:20

To: zain

zain

What happened to walking before we run?

Can we talk about this tonight, please?

I've been asked to go to a conference in New York on Thursday.

It means an overnight stay on Wednesday.

Just thought you should know.

A x

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From: zain

Subject: WHAT?

Date: June 13, 2011 09:21

To: aliya

Yes. Let's talk this evening.

Are you going on your own?

Zain x

From: aliya

Subject: No Bold Shouty Capitals on a Monday Morning!

Date: June 13, 2011: 09:30

To: zain

Can we talk about this tonight?

A x

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From: zain

Subject: You Haven't Seen Shouty Yet.

Date: June 13, 2011 09:35

To: aliya

Tell me.

If it's with the sleazeball you work with, then the answer is no, over my dead body.

Zain x

My heart sinks. Shit"it's like he's my dad.

From: aliya

Subject: No YOU haven't seen shouty yet.

Date: June 13, 2011 09:46

To: zain

Yes. It is with Jack.

I want to go. It's an exciting opportunity for me.

And I have never been to New York.

Don't get your knickers in a twist.

aliya

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From: zain

Subject: No YOU haven't seen shouty yet.

Date: June 13, 2011 09:50

To: aliya

aliya

It's not my f**king knickers I am worried about.

The answer is NO.

"No!" I shout at my computer, causing the entire office to come to a standstill and stare at

me. Jack peers out from his office.

"Everything all right, Aliya?"

"Yes. Sorry," I mutter. "I er . . . just didn't save a document." I am scarlet with embarrassment. He smiles at me but with a puzzled expression. I take several deep breaths and

quickly type a response. I am so mad.

From: aliya

Subject: Fifty Shades

Date: June 13, 2011 09:55

To: zain

Zain

You need to get a grip.

I am NOT going to sleep with Jack"not for all the tea in China.

I LOVE you. That's what happens when people love each other.

They TRUST each other.

I don't think you are going to SLEEP WITH, SPANK, f**k, or WHIP anyone else. I have

FAITH and TRUST in you.

Please extend the same COURTESY to me.

Aliya

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

I sit waiting for his response. Nothing arrives. I call the airline and book a ticket for myself,

ensuring I am on the same flight as Jack. I hear the ping of new mail.

From: Lincoln, Elena

Subject: Lunch Date

Date: June 13, 2011 10:15

To: aliya

Dear Aliya

I would really like to have lunch with you. I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I'd like

to make that right. Are you free sometime this week?

Elena Lincoln

Holy crap"not Mrs. Robinson! How the hell did she find out my e-mail address? I put my

head in my hands. Can this day get any worse?

My phone rings and wearily I lift my head from my hands and answer, glancing at the

clock. It is only ten twenty, and already I wish I hadn't left zains bed.

"Jack Hyde's office, Aliya Haider speaking."

An achingly familiar voice snarls at me, "Will you please delete the last e-mail you

sent me and try to be a little more circumspect in the language you use in your work e-mail?

I told you, the system is monitored. I shall endeavor to do some damage limitation from

here." He hangs up.

Holy f**k . . . I sit staring at the phone. zain hung up on me. That man is stomping

all over my fledgling career, and he hangs up on me? I glare at the receiver, and if it wasn't

completely inanimate, I know it would shrivel in horror under my withering stare.

I open my e-mails and delete the one I sent him. It's not that bad. I just mention spanking and well, whipping. Jeez, if he's so ashamed of it, he damn well shouldn't do it. I pick

up my Blackberry and call his mobile.

"What?" he snaps.

"I am going to New York whether you like it or not," I hiss.

"Don't count""

I hang up, cutting him off mid-sentence. Adrenaline is coursing through my body.

There"that told him. I am so mad.

I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. Closing my eyes, I imagine that I am

in my happy place. Hmm . . . a boat cabin with zain. I shake the image off as I am too

mad at Fifty right now for him to be anywhere near my happy place.

Opening my eyes, I calmly reach for my notebook and carefully run through my to do

list. I take a long, deep breath, my equilibrium restored.

"Aliya!" Jack shouts, startling me. "Don't book that flight!"

"Oh, too late. I've done it," I reply as he strides out of his office over to me. He looks

mad.

"Look, there's something going on. For some reason, suddenly, all travel and hotel

expenses for staff have to be approved by senior management. This has come right from

the top. I am going up to see old Roach. Apparently, a moratorium on all spending has just

been implemented. I don't understand it." Jack pinches the bridge of his nose and closes

his eyes.

Most of the blood drains from my face and knots form in my stomach. Fifty!

"Take my calls. I'll go see what Roach has to say." He winks at me and strides off to

see his boss"not the boss's boss.

Damn it. Zain Abdullah . . . My blood starts to boil again.

From: aliya

Subject: What have you done?

Date: June 13, 2011 10:43

To: zain

Please tell me you won't interfere with my work.

I really want to go to this conference.

I shouldn't have to ask you.

I have deleted the offending e-mail.

aliya

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From: zain

Subject: What have you done?

Date: June 13, 2011 10:46

To: aliya

I am just protecting what is mine.

The e-mail that you so rashly sent is wiped from the SIP server now, as are my e-mails to

you.

Incidentally, I trust you implicitly. It's him I don't trust.

Zain xx

CEO, Abdullah Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I check to see if I still have his e-mails, and they have disappeared. This man's influence

knows no bounds. How does he do this? Who does he know that can stealthily delve into

the depths of SIP's servers and remove e-mails? I am so out of my league here.

From: aliya

Subject: Grown Up

Date: June 13, 2011 10:43

To: zain

zain

I don't need protecting from my own boss.

He may make a pass at me, but I shall say no.

You cannot interfere. It's wrong and controlling on so many levels.

aliya

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From: zain

Subject: The Answer is NO

Date: June 13, 2011 10.50

To: aliya

Aliya

I have seen how "effective" you are at fighting off unwanted attention. I remember that's how I had the pleasure of spending my first night with you. At least the photographer has

feelings for you. The sleazeball, on the other hand, does not. He is a serial philanderer,

and he will try to seduce you. Ask him what happened to his previous PA and the one

before that.

I don't want to fight about this.

If you want to go to New York, I'll take you. We can go this weekend. I have an apartment

there.

Zain x

Oh, zain! That's not the point. He's so damn frustrating. And of course he has an

apartment there. Where else does he own property? Trust him to bring up rehaan. Will I ever

live that down? I was drunk, for heaven's sake. I wouldn't get drunk with Jack.

I shake my head at the screen, but figure I cannot continue to argue with him over

e-mail. I shall have to bide my time until this evening. I check the clock. Jack is still not

back from his meeting with Jerry, and I need to deal with Elena. I read her e-mail again

and decide that the best way to handle it is to send it to zain. Let him concentrate on

her rather than me.

From: aliya

Subject: FW Lunch date or Irritating Baggage

Date: June 13, 2011 11:15

To: zain

Zain

While you have been busy interfering in my career and saving your ass from my careless

missives, I received the following e-mail from Mrs. Lincoln. I really don't want to meet with

her"even if I did, I am not allowed to leave this building. How she got hold of my e-mail

address, I don't know. What would you suggest I do? Her e-mail is below:

Dear Aliya, I would really like to have lunch with you. I think we got off on the

wrong foot, and I'd like to make that right. Are you free sometime this week?

Elena Lincoln

Aliya

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From: zain

Subject: Irritating Baggage

Date: June 13, 2011 11:23

To: aliya

Don't be mad at me. I have your best interests at heart.

If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself.

I'll deal with Mrs. Lincoln.

Zain x

From: aliya

Subject: Laters

Date: June 13, 2011: 11:32

To: zain

Can we please discuss this tonight?

I am trying to work, and your continued interference is very distracting.

aliya

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

Jack returns after midday and tells me that New York is off for me though he is still going

and there's nothing he can do to change senior management policy. He strides into his office, slamming the door, obviously furious. Why is he so angry?

Deep down, I know his intentions are less than honorable, but I am sure I can deal with

him, and I wonder what zain knows about Jack's previous PAs. I park these thoughts

and continue with some work, but resolve to try to make zain change his mind, though

the prospects are bleak.

At one o'clock, Jack pokes his head out of the office door.

"Aliya, please could you go and get me some lunch?"

"Sure. What would you like?"

"Pastrami on rye, hold the mustard. I'll give you the money when you're back."

"Anything to drink?"

"Coke, please. Thanks, Aliya." He heads back into his office as I reach for my purse.

Crap. I promised zain I wouldn't go out. I sigh. He'll never know, and I'll be

quick.

Claire from reception offers me her umbrella since it is still pouring with rain. As I

head out of the front doors, I pull my jacket around me and take a furtive glance in both

directions from beneath the overlarge golf umbrella. Nothing seems amiss. There's no sign

of Ghost Girl.

I march briskly, and I hope inconspicuously, down the block to the deli. However, the

closer I get to the deli, the more I have a creepy sense that I am being watched, and I don't

know if it's my heightened feeling of paranoia or a reality. Shit. I hope it's not Leila with

a gun.

It's just your imagination, my subconscious snaps. Who the hell would want to shoot

you?Within fifteen minutes, I am back"safe, sound but relieved. I think zains extreme paranoia and his overprotective vigilance is beginning to get to me.

As I take Jack's lunch in to him, he glances up from the phone.

"Aliya, thanks. Since you're not coming with me, I'm going to need you to work late.

We need to get these briefs ready. Hope you don't have plans." He smiles up at me warmly,

and I flush.

"No, that's fine," I say with a bright smile and a sinking heart. This is not going to go

down well. zain will freak, I'm sure.

As I head back to my desk I decide not to tell him immediately, otherwise he might

have time to interfere in some way. I sit and eat the chicken salad sandwich Mrs. Jones

made for me. It's delicious. She makes a mean sandwich.

Of course, if I moved in with zain, she would make lunch for me every weekday.

The idea is unsettling. I have never had dreams of obscene wealth and all the trappings"

only love. To find someone who loves me and doesn't try to control my every move. The

phone rings.

"Jack Hyde's office""

"You assured me you wouldn't go out," zain's interrupts me, his voice cold and

hard.

My heart sinks for the millionth time this day. Shit. How the hell does he know?

"Jack sent me out for some lunch. I couldn't say no. Are you having me watched?" My

scalp prickles at the notion. No wonder I felt so paranoid"someone was watching me. The

thought makes me angry.

"This is why I didn't want you going back to work," zain snaps.

"zain, please. You're being""So Fifty""so suffocating."

"Suffocating?" he whispers, surprised.

"Yes. You have to stop this. I'll talk to you this evening. Unfortunately, I have to work

late because I can't go to New York."

"aliya, I don't want to suffocate you," he says quietly, appalled.

"Well, you are. I have work to do. I'll talk to you later." I hang up, feeling drained and

vaguely depressed.

After our wonderful weekend, the reality is hitting home. I have never felt more like

running. Running to some quiet retreat so I can think about this man, about how he is,

and about how to deal with him. On one level, I know he's broken"I can see that clearly

now"and it's both heartbreaking and exhausting. From the small pieces of precious information that he's given me about his life, I understand why. An unloved child; a hideously

abusive environment; a mother who couldn't protect him, whom he couldn't protect, and

who died in front of him.

I shudder. My poor Fifty. I am his, but not to be kept in some gilded cage. How am I

going to make him see this?

With a heavy heart, I drag one of the manuscripts Jack wants me to summarize into my

lap and continue to read. I can think of no easy solution to zains f**ked-up control

issues. I will just have to talk to him later, face to face.Half an hour later, Jack e-mails me a document that I need to tidy up and polish, ready

for printing tomorrow in time for his conference. It will take me not just the rest of the

afternoon but well into the evening, too. I set to work.

When I look up, it's after seven and the office is deserted, though the light in Jack's

office is still on. I hadn't noticed everyone leaving, but I am nearly finished. I e-mail the

document back to Jack for his approval and check my inbox. There's nothing new from

zain, so I quickly glance at my Blackberry, and it startles me by buzzing"it's zain.

"Hi," I murmur.

"Hi, when will you be finished?"

"By seven thirty, I think."

"I'll meet you outside."

"Okay."

He sounds quiet, nervous even. Why? Wary of my reaction?

"I'm still mad at you, but that's all," I whisper. "We have a lot to talk about."

"I know. See you at seven thirty."

Jack comes out of his office.

"I have to go. See you later." I hang up.

I look up at Jack as he strolls casually toward me.

"I just need a couple of tweaks. I've e-mailed the brief back to you."

He leans over me while I retrieve the document, rather close"uncomfortably close.

His arm brushes mine. Accidentally? I flinch, but he pretends not to notice. His other arm

rests on the back of my chair, touching my back. I sit up so I'm not leaning against the

backrest.

"Pages sixteen and twenty-three, and that should be it," he murmurs, his mouth inches

from my ear.

My skin crawls at his proximity, but I choose to ignore it. Opening the document, I

shakily start on the changes. He's still leaning over me, and all my senses are hyperaware.

It's distracting and awkward, and inside I am screaming, Back off!

"Once this is done, it'll be good to go to print. You can organize that tomorrow. Thank

you for staying late and doing this, Aliya." His voice is smooth, gentle, like he's talking to a

wounded animal. My stomach twists.

"I think the least I could do is reward you with a quick drink. You deserve one." He

tucks a strand of my hair that's come loose from my hair tie behind my ear and gently caresses the lobe.

I cringe gritting my teeth, and I jerk my head away. Shit! zain was right. Don't

touch me.

"Actually, I can't this evening." Or any other evening, Jack.

"Just a quick one?" he coaxes.

"No, I can't. But thank you."

Jack sits on the end of my desk and frowns. Alarm bells sound loudly in my head. I

am on my own in the office. I cannot leave. I glance nervously at the clock. Another five

minutes before zain is due."Aliya, I think we make a great team. I'm sorry that I couldn't pull off this New York

trip. It won't be the same without you."

I'm sure it won't. I smile weakly up at him, because I can't think of what to say. And

for the first time all day, I feel the tiniest hint of relief that I am not going.

"So, did you have a good weekend?" he asks smoothly.

"Yes, thanks." Where is he going with this?

"See your boyfriend?"

"Yes."

"What does he do?"

Owns your ass . . . "He's in business."

"That's interesting. What kind of business?"

"Oh, he has his fingers in all sorts of pies."

Jack cocks his head to one side as he leans in toward me, invading my personal space"

again.

"You're being very coy, Aliya."

"Well, he's in telecommunications, manufacturing, and agriculture."

Jack raises his eyebrows. "So many things. Who does he work for?"

"He works for himself. If you're happy with the document, I'd like to go, if that's

okay?"

He leans back. My personal space is safe again.

"Of course. Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you," he says disingenuously.

"What time does the building close?"

"Security is here until eleven."

"Good." I smile, and my subconscious flops down in her armchair, relieved to know

that we are not alone in the building. Switching off my computer, I grab my purse and stand

up, ready to leave.

"You like him then? Your boyfriend?"

"I love him," I answer, looking Jack squarely in the eye.

"I see." Jack frowns and he stands up from my desk. "What's his surname?"

I flush.

"Abdullah. Zain abdulah ," I mumble.

Jack's mouth drops open. "Seattle's richest bachelor? That zain abdullah?"

"Yes. The same." Yes, that zain abdullah, your future boss who will have you for

breakfast if you invade my personal space again.

"I thought he looked familiar," Jack says darkly and his brow creases again. "Well, he's

a lucky man."

I blink at him. What do I say to that?

"Have a good evening, Aliya." Jack smiles, but the smile doesn't touch his eyes, and he

walks stiffly back into his office without a backward glance.

I let out a long sigh of relief. Well, that problem might be solved. Fifty works his magic

again. Just his name is my talisman, and it has this man retreating with his tail between his

legs. I allow myself a small victorious smile. You see, zain? Even your name protects

me"you didn't have to go to all that trouble of clamping down on expenses. I tidy my desk

and check my watch. zain should be outside.The Audi is parked up against the sidewalk, and Taylor leaps out to open the rear passenger door. I have never been so pleased to see him, and I scramble into the car out of the

rain.

zain is in the rear seat, gazing at me, his eyes wide and wary. He's bracing himself

for my anger, his jaw tight and tense.

"Hi," I murmur.

"Hi," he replies cautiously. He reaches over and grasps my hand, squeezing it tightly,

and my heart thaws a little. I'm so confused. I haven't even worked out what I need to say

to him.

"Are you still mad?" he asks.

"I don't know," I murmur. He raises my hand and lightly grazes my knuckles with soft

butterfly kisses.

"It's been a shitty day," he says.

"Yes, it has." But for the first time since he left for work this morning, I begin to relax.

Just being in his company is a soothing balm, and all the shit from Jack, and the snarky

e-mails to and fro, and the nuisance that is Elena fade into the background. It's just me and

my control freak in the back of the car.

"It's better now that you're here," he murmurs. We sit in silence as Taylor weaves

through the evening traffic, both of us brooding and contemplative; but I feel zain

slowly unwind beside me as he, too, relaxes, gently running his thumb across my knuckles

in a soft, soothing rhythm.

Taylor drops us outside the apartment building, and we both duck inside, out of the

rain. zain clasps my hand as we wait for the elevator, his eyes scanning the front of

the building.

"I take it you haven't found Leila yet."

"No. Welch is still looking for her," he mutters despondently.

The elevator arrives and in we step. zain glances down at me, his gray eyes unreadable. Oh, he just looks glorious"tousled hair, white shirt, dark suit. And suddenly it's

there, from nowhere, that feeling. Oh my"the longing, the lust, the electricity. If it were

visible, it would be an intense blue aura around and between us it's so strong. His lips part

as he gazes at me.

"Do you feel it?" he breathes.

"Yes."

"Oh, Aliya." He groans and he grabs me, his arms snaking around me, one hand at the

nape of my neck, tipping my head back as his lips find mine. My fingers are in his hair and

caressing his cheek as he pushes me back against the elevator wall.

"I hate arguing with you," he breathes against my mouth, and there's a desperate, passionate quality to his kiss that mirrors mine. Desire explodes in my body, all the tension

of the day seeking an outlet, straining against him, seeking more. We're all tongues and

breathing and hands and touch and sweet, sweet sensation. His hand is on my hip, and

abruptly he's pulling up my skirt, his fingers stroking my thighs.

"Sweet Jesus, you're wearing stockings." He moans in appreciative awe as his thumb

caresses the flesh above my stocking line. "I want to see this," he breathes, and he pulls my

skirt right up, exposing the tops of my thighs. Stepping back, he reaches over to press the stop button, and the elevator coasts smoothly to a halt between the twenty-second and twenty-third floors. His eyes are dark, lips

parted, and he's breathing as hard as am I. We gaze at each other, not touching. I am grateful for the wall against my back, holding me up while I bask in this beautiful man's sensual,

carnal appraisal.

"Take your hair down," he orders, his voice husky. I reach up and undo the tie, releasing my hair so it tumbles in a thick cloud around my shoulders to my breasts. "Undo the

top two buttons of your shirt," he whispers, his eyes wilder now.

He makes me feel so wanton. My inner goddess is writhing on her chaise longue, waiting, wanting, and panting. I reach up and undo each button, achingly, slowly, so that the

tops of my breasts are tantalizingly revealed.

He swallows. "Do you have any idea how alluring you look right now?"

Very deliberately, I bite my lip and shake my head. He closes his eyes briefly, and

when he opens them again, they are blazing. He steps forward and places his hands on the

elevator walls on either side of my face. He's as close as he can be without touching me.

I tip my face up to meet his gaze, and he leans down and runs his nose against mine,

so it's the only contact between us. I am so hot in the confines of this elevator with him. I

want him"now.

"I think you do, Miss haider. I think you like to drive me wild."

"Do I drive you wild?" I whisper.

"In all things, aliya. You are a siren, a goddess." And he reaches for me, grasping

my leg above my knee and hitching it around his waist, so that I am standing on one leg,

leaning into him. I feel him against me, feel him hard and wanting above the apex of my

thighs as he runs his lips down my throat. I moan and wrap my arms around his neck.

"I'm going to take you now, aliya," he breathes and I arch my back in response,

pressing myself against him, eager for the friction. He groans deep and low in the back of

his throat and boosts me higher as he undoes his fly.

"Hold tight, baby," he murmurs, and magically produces a foil packet that he holds in

front of my mouth. I take it between my teeth, and he tugs, so that between us, we rip it

open.

"Good girl." He steps back a fraction as he slides on the condom. "God, I can't wait for

the next six days," he growls and gazes down at me through hooded eyes. "I do hope you're

not overly fond of these panties." He tears through them with his adept fingers, and they

disintegrate in his hands. My blood is pounding through my veins. I am panting with need.

His words are intoxicating, all my angst from the day forgotten. It's just him and me,

doing what we do best. Without taking his eyes off mine, he sinks slowly into me. My body

bows and I tilt my head back, closing my eyes, relishing the feel of him inside me. He pulls

back and then moves into me again, so slow, so sweet. I groan.

"You're mine, aliya," he murmurs against my throat.

"Yes. Yours. When will you accept that?" I pant. He groans and starts to move, really

move. And I surrender myself to his relentless rhythm, savoring each push and pull, his

ragged breathing, his need for me, reflecting mine. It makes me feel powerful, strong, desired and loved"loved by this captivating, complicated man, whom I love in return with all my heart. He pushes harder and harder, his

breathing ragged, losing himself in me as I lose myself in him.

"Oh, baby," zain moans, his teeth grazing my jaw, and I come hard around him.

He stills, clutches me, and follows suit, whispering my name.

Now that zain is spent, calm and kissing me gently, his breathing eases. He holds me

upright against the elevator wall, our foreheads pressed together, and my body is like jelly,

weak but gratifyingly sated from my climax.

"Oh, Aliya," he murmurs. "I need you so much." He kisses my forehead.

"And I you, zain."

Releasing me, he straightens my skirt and does up the two buttons on my shirt, then

punches the combination into the keypad that starts the elevator again. It rises with a jolt so

that I reach out and clasp his arms.

"Taylor will be wondering where we are," he grins lasciviously at me.

Oh crap. I drag my fingers through my hair in a vain attempt to combat the just-f**ked

look, then give up and tie it in a ponytail.

"You'll do." zain smirks as he does up his fly and puts the condom in his pants

pocket.

Once more he looks the embodiment of an American entrepreneur, and since his hair

looks just f**ked most of the time, there's very little difference. Except now he's smiling,

relaxed, his eyes crinkling with boyish charm. Are all men this easily placated?

Taylor is waiting when the doors open.

"Problem with the elevator," zain murmurs as we both step out, and I cannot look

either of them in the face. I scurry through the double doors to zains bedroom in

search of some fresh underwear.

When I return, zain has removed his jacket and is sitting at the breakfast bar chatting

with Mrs. Jones. She smiles kindly at me as she puts out two plates of hot food for us.

Mmm, it smells delicious"coq au vin, if I am not mistaken. I am famished.

"Enjoy, Mr. abdullah, Aliya," she says and leaves us to it.

zain fetches a bottle of white wine from the fridge, and as we sit and eat, he tells

me about how much nearer he's getting to perfecting a solar-powered mobile phone. He's

animated and excited about the whole project, and I know then that he hasn't had an entirely shitty day.

I ask him about his properties. He smirks, and it turns out he only has the apartment in

New York and Aspen, and Escala. Nothing else. When we're done, I collect his plate and

mine and take them to sink.

"Leave that. Gail will do it," he says. I turn and gaze at him, and he's watching me

intently. Will I ever get used to having someone clean up after me?

"Well, now that you are more docile, Miss haider, shall we talk about today?"

"I think you're the one who's more docile. I think I'm doing a good job in taming you."

"Taming me?" he snorts, amused. When I nod, he frowns as if reflecting on my words.

"Yes. Maybe you are, aliya."

"You were right about Jack," I murmur, serious now, and I lean across the kitchen island gauging his reaction. zains face falls and his eyes harden.

"Has he tried anything?" he whispers, his voice deathly cold.

I shake my head to reassure him. "No, and he won't, zain. I told him today that

I'm your girlfriend, and he backed right off."

"You're sure? I could fire the f**ker." zain scowls.

I sigh, emboldened by my glass of wine. "You really have to let me fight my own

battles. You can't constantly second-guess me and try to protect me. It's stifling, zain.

I'll never flourish with your incessant interference. I need some freedom. I wouldn't dream

of meddling in your affairs."

He blinks at me. "I only want you safe, aliya. If anything happened to you, I""

He stops.

"I know, and I understand why you feel so driven to protect me. And part of me loves

it. I know that if I need you, you'll be there, as I am for you. But if we are to have any

hope of a future together, you have to trust me and trust my judgment. Yes, I'll get it wrong

sometimes"I'll make mistakes, but I have to learn."

He stares at me, his expression anxious, spurring me to walk round to him so that I

am standing between his legs while he sits on the barstool. Grabbing his hands, I put them

around me and place my hands on his arms.

"You can't interfere in my job. It's wrong. I don't need you charging in like a white

knight to save the day. I know you want to control everything, and I understand why, but

you can't. It's an impossible goal . . . you have to learn to let go." I reach up and stroke his

face as he gazes at me, his eyes wide. "And if you can do that"give me that"I'll move in

with you," I add softly.

He inhales sharply, surprised. "You'd do that?" he whispers.

"Yes."

"But you don't know me." He frowns and sounds choked and panicky all of a sudden,

very un-Fifty.

"I know you well enough, zain. Nothing you tell me about yourself will frighten

me away." I gently run my knuckles across his cheek. His expression turns from anxious to

dubious. "But if you could just ease up on me," I plead.

"I'm trying, aliya. I couldn't just stand by and let you go to New York with that . . .

sleazeball. He has an alarming reputation. None of his assistants have lasted more than

three months, and they're never retained by the company. I don't want that for you, baby."

He sighs. "I don't want anything to happen to you. You being hurt . . . the thought fills me

with dread. I can't promise not to interfere, not if I think you'll come to harm." He pauses

and takes a deep breath. "I love you, aliya. I will do everything in my power to protect

you. I cannot imagine my life without you."

Holy cow. My inner goddess, my subconscious, and I all gape at Fifty in shock.

Jeez, three little words. My world stands still, tilts, then spins on a new axis; and I savor

the moment, gazing into his sincere, beautiful gray eyes."I love you, too, zain." I lean over and kiss him, and the kiss deepens.

Entering unseen, Taylor clears his throat. Christian pulls back, gazing intently at me.

He stands, his arm around my waist.

"Yes?" he snaps at Taylor.

"Mrs. Lincoln is on her way up, sir."

"What?"

Taylor shrugs apologetically. zain sighs heavily and shakes his head.

"Well, this should be interesting," he mutters and gives me a crooked grin of resignation.

f**k! Why can't that damned woman leave us alone?

Chap12

"Did you talk to her today?" I ask zain as we wait for Mrs. Robinson's arrival.

"Yes."

"What did you say?"

"I said that you didn't want to see her, and that I understood your reasons why. I also

told her that I didn't appreciate her going behind my back." His gaze is impassive, giving

nothing away.

Oh, good. "What did she say?"

"She brushed it off in a way that only Elena can." His mouth flattens to a crooked line.

"Why do you think she's here?"

"I have no idea." zain shrugs.

Taylor enters the great room again. "Mrs. Lincoln," he announces.

And here she is . . . Why is she so damned attractive? She's dressed entirely in black:

tight jeans, a shirt that emphasizes her perfect figure, and a halo of bright, glossy hair.

zain pulls me close. "Elena," he says, his tone puzzled.

She gapes at me in shock, frozen to the spot. She blinks before finding her soft voice.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had company, zain. It's Monday," she says as if this

explains why she's here."Girlfriend," he says by way of explanation and tilts his head to one side and smirks.

She smiles, a slow, beaming smile directed entirely at him. It's unnerving.

"Of course. Hello, aliya. I didn't know you'd be here. I know you don't want to

talk to me. I accept that."

"Do you?" I assert quietly, gazing at her and taking all of us by surprise. With a slight

frown, she moves farther into the room.

"Yes, I get the message. I'm not here to see you. Like I said, zain rarely has company during the week." She pauses. "I have a problem, and I need to talk to zain about

it."

"Oh?" zain straightens up. "Do you want a drink?"

"Yes, please," she murmurs gratefully.

zain fetches a glass while Elena and I stand awkwardly gazing at each other. She

fidgets with a large silver ring on her middle finger, while I don't know where to look.

Finally, she gives me a small tight smile and approaches the kitchen island and sits on the

bar stool at the end. She obviously knows the place well and feels comfortable moving

around here.

Do I stay? Do I go? Oh, this is so difficult. My subconscious scowls at the woman with

her most hostile harpy face.

There's so much I want to say to this woman, and none of it complimentary. But she's

zains friend"his only friend"and for all my loathing of this woman, I am innately

polite. Deciding to stay, I sit as gracefully as I can manage on the stool zains vacated.

zain pours wine into each of our glasses and sits between us at the breakfast bar. Can't

he feel how weird this is?

"What's up?" he asks her.

Elena looks nervously at me, and zain reaches over and clasps my hand.

"aliya's with me now," he says to her silent query and squeezes my hand. I flush,

and my subconscious beams at him, harpy face forgotten.

Elena's face softens as if she's pleased for him. Really pleased for him. Oh, I don't

understand this woman at all, and I'm uncomfortable and edgy in her presence.

She takes a deep breath and shifts, perching on the edge of her bar stool and looking

agitated. She glances nervously down at her hands and starts manically twisting the large

silver ring around and around on her middle finger.

Jeez, what's wrong with her? Is it my presence? Do I have that effect on her? Because I

feel the same way"I don't want her here. She raises her head and looks zain squarely

in the eye.

"I'm being blackmailed."

Holy shit. Not what I expected out of her mouth. zain stiffens. Has someone found

out about her penchant for beating and f**king underage boys? I suppress my revulsion,

and a fleeting thought about chickens coming home to roost crosses my mind. My subconscious rubs her hands together with ill-disguised glee. Good.

"How?" zain asks, his horror clear in his voice.

She reaches into her oversized, patent-leather, designer purse, pulls out a note, and

hands it to him.

"Put it down, lay it out." zain points to the breakfast bar counter with his chin.

"You don't want to touch it?'

"No. Fingerprints."

"zain, you know I can't go to the police with this."

Why am I listening to this? Is she f**king some other poor boy?

She lays the note out for him, and he bends to read it.

"They're only asking for five thousand dollars," he says almost absentmindedly. "Any

idea who it might be? Someone in the community?"

"No," she says in her soft sweet voice.

"Linc?"

Linc? Who's that?

"What"after all this time? I don't think so," she grumbles.

"Does Isaac know?"

"I haven't told him."

Who's Isaac?

"I think he needs to know," zain says. She shakes her head, and now I feel I'm

intruding. I want none of this. I try to retrieve my hand from zain's grasp, but he just

tightens his hold and turns to gaze at me.

"What?" he asks.

"I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed."

His eyes search mine, looking for what? Censure? Acceptance? Hostility? I keep my

expression as bland as possible.

"Okay," he says. "I won't be long."

He releases me and I stand. Elena watches me warily. I stay tightlipped and return her

gaze, giving nothing away.

"Goodnight, aliya." She gives me a small smile.

"Goodnight," I mutter, my voice sounds cold. I turn to leave. The tension is too much

for me to bear. As I exit the room they continue their conversation.

"I don't think there's a great deal I can do, Elena," zain says to her. "If it's a question of money." His voice trails off. "I could ask Welch to investigate."

"No, zain, I just wanted to share," she says.

When I am out of the room, I hear her say, "You look very happy."

"I am," zain responds.

"You deserve to be."

"I wish that were true."

"zain," she scolds.

I freeze, listening intently. I can't help it.

"Does she know how negative you are about yourself? About all your issues."

"She knows me better than anyone."

"Ouch! That hurts."

"It's the truth, Elena. I don't have to play games with her. And I mean it, leave her

alone."

"What is her problem?"

"You . . . What we were. What we did. She doesn't understand."

"Make her understand."

"It's in the past, Elena, and why would I want to taint her with our f**ked-up relationship? She's good and sweet and innocent, and by some miracle she loves me."

"It's no miracle, zain," Elena scoffs good-naturedly. "Have a little faith in yourself. You really are quite a catch. I've told you often enough. And she seems lovely, too.

Strong. Someone to stand up to you."

I can't hear zains response. So I'm strong, am I? I certainly don't feel that way.

"Don't you miss it?" Elena continues.

"What?"

"Your playroom."

I stop breathing.

"That really is none of your f**king business," zain snaps.

Oh.

"I'm sorry." Elena snorts insincerely.

"I think you'd better go. And please, call before you come again."

"zain, I am sorry," she says, and from her tone, this time she means it. "Since

when are you so sensitive?" She's scolding him again.

"Elena, we have a business relationship which has profited us both immensely. Let's

keep it that way. What was between us is part of the past. aliya is my future, and I

won't jeopardize it in any way, so cut the f**king crap."

His future!

"I see."

"Look, I'm sorry for your trouble. Perhaps you should ride it out and call their bluff."

His tone is softer.

"I don't want to lose you, zain."

"I'm not yours to lose, Elena," he snaps again.

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?" He's brusque, angry.

"Look, I don't want to argue with you. Your friendship means a lot to me. I'll back off

from aliya. But I'm here if you need me. I always will be."

"aliya thinks that you saw me last Saturday. You called, that's all. Why did you

tell her otherwise?"

"I wanted her to know how upset you were when she left. I don't want her to hurt you."

"She knows. I've told her. Stop interfering. Honestly, you're like a mother hen." zain sounds more resigned, and Elena laughs, but there's a sad tone to her laugh.

"I know. I'm sorry. You know I care about you. I never thought you'd end up falling in

love, zain. It's very gratifying to see. But I couldn't bear it if she hurt you."

"I'll take my chances," he says dryly. "Now are you sure you don't want Welch to sniff

around?"

She sighs heavily. "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm."

"Okay. I'll call him in the morning."

I listen to them bickering, trying to figure this out. They do sound like old friends,

as zain says. Just friends. And she cares about him"maybe too much. Well, who

wouldn't, if they knew him?"Thank you, zain. And I am sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I'll go. Next time I'll

call."

"Good."

She's going! Shit! I scamper up the hallway to zain's bedroom and sit down on the

bed. Zain enters a few moments later.

"She's gone," he says warily, gauging my reaction.

I gaze up at him, trying to frame my question. "Will you tell me all about her? I am trying to understand why you think she helped you." I pause, thinking carefully about my next

sentence. "I loathe her, zain. I think she did you untold damage. You have no friends.

Did she keep them away from you?"

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

"Why the f**k do you want to know about her? We had a very long-standing affair, she

beat the shit out of me often, and I f**ked her in all sorts of ways you can't even imagine,

end of story."

I pale. Shit, he's angry"with me. I blink at him. "Why are you so angry?"

"Because all of that shit is over!" he shouts, glowering at me. He sighs in exasperation

and shakes his head.

I blanch. Shit. I look down at my hands, knotted in my lap. I just want to understand.

He sits down beside me. "What do you want to know?" he asks wearily.

"You don't have to tell me. I don't mean to intrude."

"aliya, it's not that. I don't like talking about this shit. I've lived in a bubble for

years with nothing affecting me and not having to justify myself to anyone. She's always

been there as a confidante. And now my past and my future are colliding in a way I never

thought possible."

I glance at him and he's staring at me, his eyes wide.

"I never thought I had a future with anyone, aliya. You give me hope and have me

thinking about all sorts of possibilities." He drifts off.

"I was listening," I whisper and stare back down at my hands.

"What? To our conversation?"

"Yes."

"Well?" He sounds resigned.

"She cares for you."

"Yes, she does. And I for her in my own way, but it doesn't come close to how I feel

about you. If that's what this is about."

"I'm not jealous." I'm wounded that he would think that"or am I? Shit. Maybe that's

what this is. "You don't love her," I murmur.

He sighs again. He really is pissed. "A long time ago, I thought I loved her," he says

through gritted teeth.

Oh. "When we were in Georgia . . . you said you didn't love her."

"That's right."

I frown.

"I loved you then, aliya," he whispers. "You're the only person I'd fly three thousand miles to see."

Oh my. I don't understand. He still wanted me as a sub then. My frown deepens."The feelings I have for you are very different from any I ever had for Elena," he says

by way of explanation.

"When did you know?"

He shrugs. "Ironically, it was Elena who pointed it out to me. She encouraged me to

go to Georgia."

I knew it! I knew it in Savannah. I gaze at him, blankly.

What do I make of this? Maybe she is on my side and just worried that I'll hurt him.

The thought is painful. I would never want to hurt him. She's right"he's been hurt enough.

Perhaps she's not so bad. I shake my head. I don't want to accept his relationship with

her. I disapprove. Yes, that's what this is. She's an unsavory character who preyed on a

vulnerable adolescent, robbing him of his teenage years, no matter what he says.

"So you desired her? When you were younger."

"Yes."

Oh.

"She taught me a great deal. She taught me to believe in myself."

Oh. "But she also beat the shit out of you."

He smiles fondly. "Yes, she did."

"And you liked that?"

"At the time I did."

"So much that you wanted to do it to others?"

His eyes grow wide and serious. "Yes."

"Did she help you with that?"

"Yes."

"Did she sub for you?"

"Yes."

Holy f**k. "Do you expect me to like her?" My voice sounds brittle and bitter.

"No. Though it would make my life a hell of a lot easier," he says wearily. "I do understand your reticence."

"Reticence! Jeez, zain"if that were your son, how would you feel?"

He blinks at me as though he doesn't comprehend the question. He frowns. "I didn't

have to stay with her. It was my choice, too, aliya," he murmurs.

This is getting me nowhere.

"Who's Linc?"

"Her ex-husband."

"Lincoln Timber?"

"The very same," he smirks.

"And Isaac?"

"Her current submissive."

Oh no.

"He's in his mid-twenties, aliya. You know"a consenting adult," he adds quickly,

correctly deciphering my look of disgust.

I flush. "Your age," I mutter."Look, aliya, as I said to her, she's part of my past. You are my future. Don't let

her come between us, please. And quite frankly, I'm really bored of this subject. I'm going

to do some work." He stands and gazes down at me. "Let it go. Please."

I stare mulishly up at him.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he adds. "Your car arrived a day early. It's in the garage. Taylor

has the key."

Whoa . . . the Saab? "Can I drive it tomorrow?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You know why not. And that reminds me. If you are going to leave your office, let me

know. Sawyer was there, watching you. It seems I can't trust you to look after yourself at

all." He scowls down at me, making me feel like an errant child"again. And I would argue

with him, but he's pretty worked up over Elena, and I don't want to push him any further,

but I can't resist one comment.

"Seems I can't trust you either," I mutter. "You could have told me Sawyer was watching me."

"Do you want to fight about that, too?" he snaps.

"I wasn't aware we were fighting. I thought we were communicating," I mumble petulantly.

He closes his eyes briefly as he struggles to contain his temper. I swallow and watch

anxiously. Jeez, this could go either way.

"I have to work," he says quietly, and with that, he leaves the room.

I exhale. I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath. I flop back onto the bed, staring

at the ceiling.

Can we ever have a normal conversation without it disintegrating into an argument?

It's exhausting.

We just don't know each other that well. Do I really want to move in with him? I don't

even know if I should make him a cup of tea or coffee while he's working. Should I disturb

him at all? I have no idea of his likes and dislikes.

Evidently he's bored with the whole Elena thing"he's right, I need to move on. Let it

go. Well, at least he's not expecting me to be friends with her, and I hope that she'll now

stop hassling me for a meeting.

I get off the bed and wander to the window. Unlocking the balcony door, I open it and

stroll over to the glass railing. Its transparency is unnerving. The air's chilly and fresh, as

I'm up so high.

I gaze out over the twinkling lights of Seattle. He's so far removed from everything

up here in his fortress. Answerable to no one. He'd just told me he loves me, then all this

crap comes up because of that dreadful woman. I roll my eyes. His life is so complicated.

He's so complicated.

With a heavy sigh and a last glance at Seattle spread like cloths of gold at my feet, I

decide to call ghulam. I haven't spoken to him for a while. It's a brief conversation as per usual,

but I ascertain he's fine and that I'm interrupting an important soccer match.

"Hope all is well with zain," he says casually, and I know he's fishing for information but doesn't really want to know."Yeah. We're cool." Sort of, and I'm moving in with him. Though we haven't discussed a timetable.

"Love you, Dad."

"Love you, too, aliya."

I hang up and check my watch. It's only ten. Because of our discussion, I am feeling

strangely innervated and restless.

I shower quickly, and back in the bedroom, decide to wear one of the nightdresses that

Caroline Acton procured for me from Neiman Marcus. Zain's always moaning about

my T-shirts. There are three. I choose the pale pink and put it on over my head. The fabric

skims across my skin, caressing and clinging to me as it falls around my body. It feels luxurious"the finest, thinnest satin. Holy crap. In the mirror, I look like a 1930s movie star. It's

long, elegant"and very un-me.

I grab the matching robe and decide to hunt out a book in the library. I could read on

my iPad"but right now, I want the comfort and reassurance of a physical book. I'll leave

zain alone. Perhaps he'll recover his good humor once he's finished working.

There are so many books in zain's library. Scanning every title will take forever.

I glance occasionally at the billiard table and flush as I recall our previous evening. I smile

when I see that the ruler is still on the floor. Picking it up, I swat my palm. Ow! It stings.

Why can't I take a little more pain for my man? Disconsolately, I place it on the desk

and continue my hunt for a good read.

Most of the books are first editions. How can he have amassed a collection like this

in such a short time? Perhaps Taylor's job description includes book buying. I settle on

Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier. I haven't read this for a long time. I smile as I curl up in

one of the overstuffed armchairs and read the first line:

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again . . .

I am jostled awake as zain lifts me in his arms.

"Hey," he murmurs, "you fell asleep. I couldn't find you." He nuzzles my hair. Sleepily, I put my arms around his neck and breathe in his scent"oh, he smells so good"as he

carries me back to the bedroom. He lays me down on the bed and covers me.

"Sleep, baby," he whispers and he presses his lips against my forehead.

I wake suddenly from a disturbing dream and am momentarily disorientated. I find myself

anxiously checking the end of the bed, but there's no one there. Drifting from the great

room, I hear the faint strains of a complex melody from the piano.

What time is it? I check the alarm clock"two in the morning. Has zain come to

sleep at all? I disentangle my legs from my robe, which I'm still wearing, and clamber out

of bed.In the great room, I stand in the shadows, listening. zain is lost to the music. He

looks safe and secure in his bubble of light. And the tune he plays has a lilting melody,

parts of which sound familiar, but so elaborate. Jeez, he's good. Why does this always take

me by surprise?

The whole scene looks different somehow, and I realize that the piano lid is down, giving me an unhindered view. He glances up and our eyes lock, his gray and softly luminous

in the diffuse glow of the lamp. He continues to play, not faltering at all, as I make my way

over to him. His eyes follow me, drinking me in, burning brighter. As I reach him, he stops.

"Why did you stop? That was lovely."

"Do you have any idea how desirable you look at the moment?" he says, his voice soft.

Oh. "Come to bed," I whisper and his eyes heat as he holds out his hand. When I take

it, he tugs unexpectedly so I fall into his lap. He wraps his arms around me and nuzzles my

neck behind my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"Why do we fight?" he whispers, as his teeth graze my earlobe.

Holy cow. My heart skips a beat, then starts pounding, coursing heat throughout my

body.

"Because we're getting to know each other, and you're stubborn and cantankerous and

moody and difficult," I murmur breathlessly, shifting my head to give him better access to

my throat. He runs his nose down my neck, and I feel his smile.

"I'm all those things, Miss haider. It's a wonder you put up with me." He nips my earlobe and I moan. "Is it always like this?" he sighs.

"I have no idea."

"Me neither." He yanks the sash of my robe so it falls open, and his hand skims down

my body, over my breast. My nipples harden beneath his gentle touch and strain against the

satin. He continues down to my waist, down to my hip.

"You feel so fine under this material, and I can see everything"even this." He tugs

gently on my pubic hair through the fabric, making me gasp, while his other hand fists

in my hair at my nape. Pulling my head back, he kisses me, his tongue urgent, relentless,

needy. I moan in response and caress his dear, dear face. His hand gently pulls my nightdress up, slowly, tantalizingly until he's fondling my naked behind and then running his

thumbnail down the inside of my thigh.

Suddenly he rises, startling me, and he lifts me bodily onto the piano. My feet rest on

the keys, sounding discordant, disjointed notes, and his hands skim up my legs and part my

knees. He grabs my hands.

"Lie back," he orders, holding my hands while I sink back on top of the piano. The lid

is hard and uncompromising against my back. He lets go and pushes my legs open wider,

my feet dancing over the keys, over the lower and higher notes.

Oh boy. I know what he's going to do, and the anticipation . . . I groan loudly as he

kisses the inside of my knee, then kisses and sucks and nips his way higher up my leg to my

thigh. The soft satin of my nightgown rises higher, skimming over my sensitized skin, as he

pushes the fabric. I flex my feet and the chords sound again. Closing my eyes, I surrender

myself to him as his mouth reaches the apex of my thighs.

He kisses me . . . there . . . Oh boy . . . then gently blows before his tongue circles my

c***oris. He pushes my legs wider. I feel so open"so exposed. He holds me in place, his hands just above my knees as his tongue tortures me, giving no quarter, no respite . . . no

reprieve. Tilting my hips up, meeting and matching his rhythm, I am consumed.

"Oh, zain, please." I moan.

"Oh no, baby, not yet," he teases, but I feel myself quicken as does he, and he stops.

"No," I whimper.

"This is my revenge, Aliya," he growls softly. "Argue with me, and I am going to take

it out on your body somehow." He trails kisses along my belly, his hands traveling up my

thighs, stroking, kneading, tantalizing. His tongue circles my navel as his hands"and his

thumbs . . . oh his thumbs"reach the summit of my thighs.

"Ah!" I cry out as he pushes one inside me. The other persecutes me, slowly, agonizingly, circling round and round. My back arches off the piano as I writhe beneath his touch.

It's almost unbearable.

"zain!" I cry, spiraling out of control with need.

He takes pity on me and stops. Lifting my feet off the keys, he pushes me; and suddenly, I'm sliding effortlessly up the piano, gliding on satin, and he's following me up

there, briefly kneeling between my legs to roll on a condom. He hovers over me and I'm

panting, gazing up at him with raging need, and I realize he's naked. When did he take off

his clothes?

He stares down at me, and there's wonder in his eyes, wonder and love and passion,

and it's breathtaking.

"I want you so badly," he says and very slowly, exquisitely, he sinks into me.

I am sprawled on top of him, wrung out, my limbs heavy and languid, as we lie on top of

his grand piano. Oh my. He's much more comfortable to lie on than the piano. Careful not

to touch his chest, I rest my cheek against him and keep perfectly still. He doesn't object,

and I listen to his breathing as it slows like mine. Gently he strokes my hair.

"Do you drink tea or coffee in the evening?" I ask sleepily.

"What a strange question," he says dreamily.

"I thought I could bring you tea in your study, and then I realized I didn't know what

you would like."

"Oh, I see. Water or wine in the evening, Aliya. Though maybe I should try tea."

His hand moves rhythmically down my back, stroking me tenderly.

"We really know very little about each other," I murmur.

"I know," he says, and his voice is mournful. I sit up to gaze at him.

"What is it?" I ask. He shakes his head as if to rid himself of some unpleasant thought,

and raising his hand, he caresses my cheek, his eyes bright and earnest.

"I love you, Aliya Haider," he says.

The alarm blasts on with the six am traffic news, and I am rudely awakened from my disturbing dream of over-blond and dark-haired women. I can't grasp what it's about, and I'm

immediately distracted because zain abdullah is wrapped around me like silk, his unrulyhaired head on my chest, his hand on my breast, his leg over me, holding me down. He's

still asleep, and I am too warm. But I ignore my discomfort, tentatively reaching up to run

my fingers gently through his hair, and he stirs. Raising bright gray eyes, he grins sleepily.

Holy cow . . . he's adorable.

"Good morning, beautiful," he says.

"Good morning, beautiful yourself." I smile back at him. He kisses me, disentangles

himself, and leans up on his elbow, staring down at me.

"Sleep okay?" he asks.

"Yes, despite the interruption to my sleep last night."

His grin broadens. "Hmm. You can interrupt me like that anytime." He kisses me again.

"How about you? Did you sleep well?"

"I always sleep well with you, aliya."

"No more nightmares?"

"No."

I frown and chance a question. "What are your nightmares about?"

His brow creases and his grin fades. Shit"my stupid curiosity.

"They're flashbacks of my early childhood, or so Dr. Flynn says. Some vivid, some

less so." His voice drops and a distant, harrowed look crosses his face. Absentmindedly, he

begins to trace my collarbone with his finger, distracting me.

"Do you wake up crying and screaming?" I try in vain to joke.

He looks at me, puzzled. "No, aliya. I've never cried. As far as I can remember."

He frowns, as if reaching into the depths of his memories. Oh no"that's too dark a place

to go at this hour, surely.

"Do you have any happy memories of your childhood?" I ask quickly, mainly to distract him. He looks pensive for a moment, still running his finger along my skin.

"I recall the crack wh**e baking. I remember the smell. A birthday cake I think. For

me. And then there's barkat's arrival with my mom and dad. My mom was worried about

my reaction, but I adored baby barkat immediately. My first word was barkat. I remember my

first piano lesson. Miss Kathie, my tutor, was awesome. She kept horses, too." He smiles

wistfully.

"You said your mom saved you. How?"

His reverie is broken, and he gazes at me as if I don't understand the elementary math

of two plus two."She adopted me," he says simply. "I thought she was an angel when I first met her. She

was dressed in white and so gentle and calm as she examined me. I'll never forget that. If

she'd said no or if usman had said no . . ." He shrugs and glances over his shoulder at the

alarm clock. "This is all a little deep for so early in the morning," he mutters.

"I have made a vow to get to know you better."

"Did you now, Miss haider? I thought you wanted to know if I preferred coffee or tea."

He smirks. "Anyway, I can think of one way you can get to know me." He pushes his hips

suggestively against me.

"I think I know you quite well enough that way." My voice is haughty and scolding,

and it makes him smile more broadly.

"I don't think I'll ever get to know you well enough that way," he murmurs. "There

are definite advantages to waking up beside you." His voice is soft and bone-meltingly

seductive.

"Don't you have to get up?" My voice is low and husky. Jeez, what he does to me . . .

"Not this morning. Only one place I want to be up right now, Miss haider." And his

eyes sparkle salaciously.

"zain!" I gasp, shocked. He shifts suddenly so that he's on top of me, pressing me

into the bed. Grabbing my hands, he pulls them up above my head and begins to kiss my

throat.

"Oh, Miss haider." He smiles against my skin, sending delicious tingles through me,

as his hand travels down my body and starts to slowly hitch up my satin nightdress. "Oh,

what I'd like to do to you," he murmurs.

And I am lost, interrogation over.

Mrs. Jones sets down my breakfast of pancakes and bacon, and for zain an omelet and

bacon. We sit side by side at the bar in a comfortable silence.

"When am I going to meet your trainer, Claude, and put him through his paces?" I ask.

zain glances down at me, grinning.

"Depends if you want to go to New York this weekend or not"unless you'd like to

see him early one morning this week. I'll ask Andrea to check on his schedule and come

back to you."

"Andrea?"

"My PA."

Oh yes. "One of your many blondes," I tease him.

"She's not mine. She works for me. You're mine."

"I work for you," I mutter sourly.

He grins as if he's forgotten. "So you do." His beaming smile is infectious.

"Maybe Claude can teach me to kickbox," I warn.

"Oh yeah? Fancy your chances against me?" zain raises an eyebrow, amused.

"Bring it on, Miss haider." He is so damned happy compared to yesterday's foul mood after

Elena left. It's totally disarming. Maybe it's all the sex . . . perhaps that's what's making

him so buoyant.I glance behind me at the piano, savoring the memory of last night. "You put the lid of

the piano back up."

"I closed it last night so as not to disturb you. Guess it didn't work, but I'm glad it

didn't." zains lips twitch into a lascivious smile as he takes a bite of omelet. I go

crimson and smirk back at him.

Oh yes . . . fun times on the piano.

Mrs. Jones leans over and places a paper bag containing my lunch in front of me, making me flush guiltily.

"For later, Aliya. Tuna okay?"

"Oh yes. Thank you, Mrs. Jones." I give her a shy smile, which she reciprocates warmly before leaving the great room. I suspect it's to give us some privacy.

"Can I ask you something?" I turn back to zain.

His amused expression slips. "Of course."

"And you won't be angry?"

"Is it about Elena?"

"No."

"Then I won't be angry."

"But I now have a supplementary question."

"Oh?"

"Which is about her."

He rolls his eyes. "What?" he says, and now he's exasperated.

"Why do you get so mad when I ask you about her?"

"Honestly?"

I scowl at him. "I thought you were always honest with me."

"I endeavor to be."

I narrow my eyes at him. "That sounds like a very evasive answer."

"I am always honest with you, Aliya. I don't want to play games. Well, not those sorts of

games," he qualifies, as his eyes heat.

"What sort of games do you want to play?"

He inclines his head to one side and smirks at me. "Miss haider, you are so easily distracted."

I giggle. He's right. "Mr. abdullah, you are distracting on so many levels." I gaze at his

dancing gray eyes alight with humor.

"My favorite sound in the whole world is your giggle, aliya. Now"what was

your original question?" he asks smoothly, and I think he's laughing at me. I try to twist my

mouth to show my displeasure, but I like playful Fifty"he's fun. I love some early morning banter. I frown, trying to recall my question.

"Oh yes. You only saw your subs on the weekends?"

"Yes, that's correct," he says regarding me nervously.

I grin at him. "So, no sex during the week."

He laughs. "Oh, that's where we're going with this." He looks vaguely relieved. "Why

do you think I work out every weekday?" Now he really is laughing at me, but I don't care.

I want to hug myself with glee. Another first"well, several firsts.

"You look very pleased with yourself, Miss haider."

"I am, Mr. abdullah."

"You should be." He grins. "Now eat your breakfast."

Oh, bossy Fifty . . . he's never far away.

We are in the back of the Audi. Taylor is driving with the intention of dropping me off at

work, then zain. Sawyer is riding shotgun.

"Didn't you say your roommate's brother was arriving today?" zain asks, almost

casually, his voice and expression giving nothing away.

"Oh, bilal," I gasp. "I forgot. Oh zain, thank you for reminding me. I'll have to

go back to the apartment."

His face falls. "What time?"

"I'm not sure what time he's arriving."

"I don't want you going anywhere on your own," he says sharply.

"I know," I mutter and resist rolling my eyes at Mr. Over-Reaction. "Will Sawyer be

spying"um . . . patrolling today?" I glance slyly in Sawyer's direction to see the backs of

his ears turn red.

"Yes," zain snaps, his eyes glacial.

"If I was driving the Saab it would be easier," I mutter petulantly.

"Sawyer will have a car, and he can drive you to your apartment, depending on what

time."

"Okay. I think Ethan will probably contact me during the day. I'll let you know what

the plans are then."

He gazes at me, saying nothing. Oh, what is he thinking?

"Okay," he acquiesces. "Nowhere on your own. Do you understand?" He waves a long

finger at me.

"Yes, dear," I mutter.

There's a trace of a smile on his face. "And maybe you should just use your Blackberry"I'll e-mail you on it. That should prevent my IT guy having a thoroughly interesting

morning, okay?" His voice is sardonic.

"Yes, zain." I can't resist. I roll my eyes at him, and he smirks at me.

"Why Miss haider, I do believe you're making my palm twitch."

"Ah, Mr. abdullah, your perpetually twitching palm. What are we going to do with that?"

He laughs and then is distracted by his Blackberry, which must be on vibrate because

it doesn't ring. He frowns when he sees the caller ID.

"What is it?" he snaps into the phone, then listens intently. I use the opportunity to

study his lovely features"his straight nose, his hair hanging scruffily over his forehead. I

am distracted from my surreptitious ogling by his expression, which turns from incredulity

to amusement. I pay attention.

"You're kidding . . . For a scene . . . When did he tell you this?" zain chuckles,

almost reluctantly. "No, don't worry. You don't have to apologize. I'm glad there's a logical

explanation. It did seem a ridiculously low amount of money . . . I have no doubt you've

something evil and creative planned for your revenge. Poor Isaac." He smiles. "Good . . . Good-bye." He snaps the phone shut and glances at me. His eyes are suddenly wary, but

oddly, he looks relieved, too.

"Who was that?" I ask.

"You really want to know?" he asks quietly.

And, I know. I shake my head and stare out my window at the gray Seattle day, feeling

forlorn. Why can't she leave him alone?

"Hey." He reaches for my hand and kisses each of my knuckles in turn, and suddenly

he's sucking my little finger, hard. Then biting it softly.

Whoa! He has a hotline to my groin, I gasp and glance nervously at Taylor and Sawyer,

then at zain, and his eyes are darker. He gives me a slow carnal smile.

"Don't sweat it, aliya," he murmurs. "She's in the past." And he plants a kiss in

the center of my palm, sending tingles everywhere, and my momentary pique is forgotten.

"Morning, Aliya," Jack mutters as I make my way to my desk. "Nice dress."

I flush. The dress is part of my new wardrobe, courtesy of my incredibly rich boyfriend. It's a sleeveless shift dress of pale blue linen, quite fitted, and I'm wearing cream

high-heeled sandals. zain likes heels, I think. I smile secretly at the thought but quickly recover my bland professional smile for my boss.

"Good morning, Jack."

I set about ordering a messenger to take his brochure to the printers. He pops his head

around his office door.

"Could I have a coffee, please, Aliya?"

"Sure." I wander into the kitchen and bump into Claire from reception, who is also

fixing coffee.

"Hey, Aliya," she says cheerfully.

"Hi, Claire."

We chat briefly about her extended-family gathering over the weekend, which she enjoyed immensely, and I tell her about sailing with zain.

"Your boyfriend is so dreamy, Aliya," she says, her eyes glazing over.

I am tempted to roll my eyes at her.

"He's not bad-looking," I smile and we both start laughing.

"You took your time!" Jack snaps when I bring in his coffee.

Oh! "I'm sorry." I flush then frown. I took the usual amount of time. What's his problem? Perhaps he's nervous about something.

He shakes his head. "Sorry, aliya. I didn't mean to bark at you, honey."

Honey?

"There's something going on at senior management level, and I don't know what it is.

Keep your ear to the ground, okay? If you hear anything"I know how you girls talk." He grins at me, and I feel slightly sick. He has no idea how we "girls" talk. Besides, I know

what's happening.

"You'll let me know, right?"

"Sure," I mutter. "I've sent the brochure to the printers. It will be back by two o'clock."

"Great. Here." He hands me a pile of manuscripts. "All these need synopses of the first

chapter, then filing."

"I'll get on it."

I am relieved to step out of his office and sit down at my desk. Oh, it's hard being in

the know. What will he do when he finds out? My blood runs cold. Something tells me Jack

will be annoyed. I glance at my Blackberry and smile. There's an e-mail from zain.

From: zain

Subject: Sunrise

Date: June 14, 2011 09:23

To: aliya

I love waking up to you in the morning.

Zain xx

Completely & Utterly Smitten CEO, abdullah Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I think my face splits in two with my grin, and my inner goddess back-flips over her chaise

longue.

From: aliya

Subject: Sundown

Date: June 14, 2011 09:35

To: zain

Dear Completely & Utterly Smitten

I love waking up to you, too. But I love being in bed with you and in elevators and on

pianos and billiard tables and boats and desks and showers and bathtubs and strange

wooden crosses with shackles and four-poster beds with red satin sheets and boathouses and childhood bedrooms.

Yours

Sex Mad and Insatiable xx

From: zain

Subject: Wet Hardware

Date: June 14, 2011 09:37

To: aliya

Dear Sex Mad and Insatiable

I've just spat coffee all over my keyboard.

I don't think that's ever happened to me before.

I do admire a woman who concentrates on geography.

Am I to infer you just want me for my body?

Zain xx

Completely & Utterly Shocked CEO, abdullah Enterprises Holdings Inc.

From: aliya

Subject: Giggling"and wet too

Date: June 14, 2011: 09:42

To: zain

Dear Completely & Utterly Shocked

Always.

I have work to do.

Stop bothering me.

SM&I xx

From: zain

Subject: Do I have to?

Date: June 14, 2011 09:50

To: aliya

Dear SM&I

As ever, your wish is my command.

Love that you are giggling and wet.

Laters, baby.

x

zain,

Completely & Utterly Smitten, Shocked and Spellbound CEO, abdullah Enterprises Holdings

Inc.

I put the Blackberry down and get on with my work.

At lunchtime, Jack asks me to go down to the deli for his lunch. I call zain as soon as

I leave Jack's office.

"aliya." He answers immediately, his voice warm and caressing. How is it that this

man can make me melt over the phone?

"zain, Jack has asked me to get his lunch."

"Lazy bas***d," zain gripes.I ignore him and continue. "So I'm going to get it. It might be handy if you gave me

Sawyer's number, so I don't have to bother you."

"It's no bother, baby."

"Are you on your own?"

"No. There are six people staring at me at the moment wondering who the hell I'm

talking to."

Shit . . . "Really?" I gasp, panicked.

"Yes. Really. My girlfriend," he announces away from the phone.

Holy cow! "They probably all thought you were gay, you know."

He laughs. "Yeah, probably." I hear his grin.

"Er"I'd better go." I am sure he can tell how embarrassed I am to be interrupting him.

"I'll let Sawyer know." He laughs again. "Have you heard from your friend?"

"Not yet. You'll be the first to know, Mr. abdullah."

"Good. Laters, baby."

"Bye, zain." I grin. Every time he says that, it makes me smile . . . so un-Fifty, but

somehow so him, too.

When I exit moments later, Sawyer is waiting on the doorstep of the building.

"Miss haider," he greets me formally.

"Sawyer." I nod in response and together we head down to the deli.

I don't feel as comfortable with Sawyer as I do with Taylor. He continually scans the

street as we make our way along the block. It actually makes me more nervous, and I find

myself mirroring his actions.

Is Leila out there? Or are we all infected by zain's paranoia? Is this part of his fifty

shades? What I'd give for half an hour of candid discussion with Dr. Flynn, to find out.

There's nothing amiss, just lunchtime Seattle"people rushing for lunch, shopping,

meeting friends. I watch two young women hug as they meet up.

I miss Kate. It's only been two weeks since she left for her vacation, but it feels like the

longest two weeks of my life. So much has happened"she'll never believe me when I tell

her. Well, tell her the edited NDA-compliant version. I frown. I'll have to talk to zain

about that. What would yasmin make of it? I blanch at the thought. Perhaps she'll be back

with Ethan. I feel a rush of excitement at the thought, but I think it's unlikely. She'd stay

on with harshad surely.

"Where do you stand when you're waiting and watching outside?" I ask Sawyer as we

get in line for lunch. Sawyer is in front of me, facing the door, continually monitoring the

street and anyone who comes in. It's unnerving.

"I sit in the coffee shop directly across the street, Miss haider."

"Doesn't it get very boring?"

"Not to me, ma'am. It's what I do," he says stiffly.

I flush. "Sorry, I didn't mean to imply . . ." My voice trails off at his kind, understanding expression.

"Please, Miss haider. My job is to protect you. And that's what I'll do."

"So, no sign of Leila?"

"No, ma'am."

I frown. "How do you know what she looks like?"

"I've seen her photograph."

"Oh, do you have it on you?"

"No, ma'am." He taps his skull. "Committed to memory."

Of course. I'd really like to examine a photograph of Leila to see what she looked like

before she became Ghost Girl. I wonder if zain would let me have a copy? Yes, he

probably would"for my safety. I hatch a plan, and my subconscious gloats and nods approvingly.

The brochures arrive back at the office, and I have to say, they look great. I take one into

Jack's office. His eyes light up, and I don't know if it's at me or the brochure. I choose to

believe it's the latter.

"These look great, aliya." Idly, he flicks through it. "Yeah, good job. Are you seeing

your boyfriend this evening?" His lip curls as he says boyfriend.

"Yes. We live together." It's sort of the truth. Well, we do at the moment. And I have

officially agreed to move in, so it's not much of a white lie. I hope that it's enough to throw

him off the scent.

"Would he object to you coming out for a quick drink tonight? To celebrate all your

hard work?"

"I have a friend coming in from out of town tonight, and we're all going out for dinner." And I'll be busy every night, Jack.

"I see." He sighs, exasperated. "Maybe when I'm back from New York, huh?" He

raises his eyebrows in expectation, and his gaze darkens suggestively.

Oh no. I smile, noncommittal, stifling a shudder.

"Would you like some coffee or tea?" I ask.

"Coffee, please." His voice is low and husky as if he's asking for something else. f**k.

He's not going to back off. I can see that now. Oh . . . What to do?

I breathe a long sigh of relief when I am out of his office. He makes me tense. zain

is right about him, and part of me is pissed that zain is right about him.

I sit down at my desk and my Blackberry rings"a number I don't recognize.

"aliya haider."

"Hi, haider!" bilal's drawl catches me momentarily off guard.

"bilal! How are you?" I almost squeal with delight.

"Glad to be back. I am seriously fed up with sunshine and rum punches, and my baby

sister being hopelessly in love with the big guy. It's been hell, aliya."

"Yeah! Sea, sand, sun, and rum punches sounds like Dante's Inferno." I giggle. "Where

are you?"

"I'm at Sea-Tac, waiting for my bag. What are you doing?"

"I'm at work. Yes, I am gainfully employed," I respond to his gasp. "Do you want to

come here and collect the keys? I can meet you later at the apartment."

"Sounds great. I'll see you in about 45 minutes, an hour maybe? What's the address?"

I give him SIP's address.

"See you soon, bilal."

"Laters," he says and hangs up. What? Not bilal, too? And it dawns on me that he's

just spent a week with harshad. I quickly type an e-mail to zain.

From: aliya

Subject: Visitors from Sunny Climes.

Date: June 14, 2011: 14:55

To: zain

Dearest Completely & Utterly SS&S

bilal is back, and he's coming here to collect keys to the apartment.

I'd really like to make sure he's settled in okay.

Why don't you collect me after work? We can go to the apartment then we can ALL go

out for a meal maybe?

My treat?

Your

Aliya xxx

Still SM&I

Aliya Haider

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From: zain

Subject: Dinner Out

Date: June 14, 2011 15:05

To: aliya

I approve of your plan. Except the part about you paying!

My treat.

I'll collect you at 6:00.

x

PS: Why aren't you using your Blackberry!!!

Zain xx

Completely and Utterly Annoyed, CEO, abdllah Enterprises Holdings Inc.

From: aliya

Subject: Bossiness

Date: June 14, 2011: 15:11

To: zain

Oh, don't be so crusty and cross.

It's all in code.

I'll see you at 6:00.

Aliya xx

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From: zain

Subject: Maddening Woman

Date: June 14, 2011 15:18

To: aliya

Crusty and cross!

I'll give you crusty and cross.

And look forward to it.

Zain xx

Completely and Utterly More Annoyed, but smiling for some unknown reason, CEO, abdullah

Enterprises Holdings Inc.

From: aliya

Subject: Promises. Promises.

Date: June 14, 2011: 15:23

To: zain

Bring it on, Mr. abdullah

I look forward to it too. ;D

aliya xx

aliya haider

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

He doesn't reply, but then I don't expect him to. I imagine him moaning about mixed signals, and the thought makes me smile. I daydream briefly about what he might do to me but

find myself shifting about in my chair. My subconscious gazes at me disapprovingly over

her half-moon specs"get on with your work.

A little later, my phone buzzes. It's Claire at reception.

"There's a real cute guy in reception to see you. We must go out for drinks sometime,

Ana. You sure know some hunky guys," she hisses conspiratorially through the phone.

bilal! Grabbing my keys from my purse, I hurry out to the foyer.

Holy shit"sun-bleached blond hair, a tan to die for, and glowing hazel eyes gaze up

at me from the green leather couch. As soon as he sees me, his mouth drops open, and he's

on his feet coming toward me.

"Wow, aliya." He frowns at me as he bends to give me hug.

"You look well." I grin up at him. "You look . . . wow"different. Worldly, more sophisticated. What's happened? You

changed your hair? Clothes? I don't know, Steele, but you look hot!"

I blush furiously. "Oh, bilal. I'm just in my work clothes," I scold as Claire looks on

with an arched eyebrow and a wry smile.

"How was Barbados?"

"Fun," he says.

"When's yasmin back?"

"She and harshad are flying back Friday. They're pretty damn serious about each other."

bilal rolls his eyes.

"I've missed her."

"Yeah? How have you been doing with Mr. Mogul?"

"Mr. Mogul?" I snicker. "Well, it's been interesting. He's taking us out for dinner this

evening."

"Cool." bilal seems genuinely pleased. Phew!

"Here." I hand him the keys. "You have the address?"

"Yeah. Laters." He leans over and kisses my cheek.

"harshad's expression?"

"Yeah, kind of grows on you."

"It does. Laters." I smile at him as he collects his large shoulder bag from beside the

green couch and exits the building.

When I turn, Jack is watching me from the far side of the foyer, his expression unreadable. I smile brightly at him and head back to my desk, feeling his eyes on me the whole

time. This is beginning to get on my nerves. What to do? I have no idea. I'll have to wait

until Kate is back. She's bound to come up with a plan. The thought dispels my bleak

mood, and I pick up the next manuscript.

At five to six, my phone buzzes. It's zain.

"Crusty and Cross here," he says and I grin. He's still playful Fifty. My inner goddess

is clapping her hands with glee like a small child.

"Well, this is Sex Mad and Insatiable. I take it you're outside?" I ask dryly.

"I am indeed, Miss haider. Looking forward to seeing you." His voice is warm and

seductive, and my heart flutters wildly.

"Ditto, Mr. abdullah. I'll be right out." I hang up.

I switch off my computer and gather up my purse and cream cardigan.

"I'm off now, Jack," I call through.

"Okay, aliya. Thanks for today, honey! Have a great evening."

"You, too."

Why can't he be like that all the time? I don't understand him.

The Audi is parked at the curb, and zain climbs out as I approach. He's taken off his

jacket, and he's wearing his gray pants, my favorite ones that hang from his hips"in that way. How can this Greek god be meant for me? I find myself grinning like a loon in answer

to his own idiotic grin.

He's spent the whole day acting like a boyfriend in love"in love with me. This adorable, complex, flawed man is in love with me, and I with him. Joy bursts unexpectedly

inside me, and I savor the moment as I feel briefly that I could conquer the world.

"Miss haider, you look as captivating as you did this morning." zain pulls me into

his arms and kisses me soundly.

"Mr. abdullah, so do you."

"Let's go get your friend." He smiles down at me and opens the car door.

As Taylor heads to the apartment, zain fills me in on his day"a much better one

than yesterday, it seems. I gaze at him adoringly as he attempts to explain some breakthrough the environmental science department at WSU in Vancouver has made. His words

mean very little to me, but I'm captivated by his passion and interest in this subject. Maybe

this is what it will be like, good days and bad days, and if the good days are like this, I

won't have much to complain about. He hands me a sheet of paper.

"These are the times that Claude is free this week," he says.

Oh! The trainer.

As we pull up to my apartment building, he fishes his Blackberry from his pocket.

"abdullah," he answers. "Ros, what is it?" He listens intently, and I can tell it's an involved

conversation.

"I'll go and get bilal. I'll be two minutes," I mouth at zain and hold up two fingers.

He nods, obviously distracted by the call. Taylor opens my door, smiling at me warmly.

I grin at him, even Taylor's feeling it. I press the entry phone and shout happily into it.

"Hi, bilal, it's me. Let me in."

The door buzzes, and I head upstairs to the apartment. It occurs to me that I have not

been here since Saturday morning. That seems so long ago. bilal has kindly left the front

door open. I step into the apartment, and I don't know why, but I freeze instinctively as

soon as I step inside. I take a moment to realize it's because the pale, wan figure standing

by the kitchen island, holding a small revolver is Leila, and she's gazing impassively at me.

Chptr 10 ,11,12 r really amazing.
I m blushing right now
Omg leila pointing revolver towards aliya
Hope zain will save her
Thanks for da pm shiri
Update soon

Originally posted by: zayalove

Chptr 10 ,11,12 r really amazing.
I m blushing right now
Omg leila pointing revolver towards aliya
Hope zain will save her
Thanks for da pm shiri
Update soon

Depends on u we would love to read it all

Chap13

Holy f**k.

She's here, gazing at me with an unnerving blank expression, holding a gun. My subconscious swoons into a dead faint, and I don't think even smelling salts will bring her

back.

I blink repeatedly at Leila as my mind goes into overdrive. How did she get in? Where's

bilal? Holy shit! Where is bilal?

A creeping cold fear grips my heart, and my scalp prickles as each and every follicle on

my head tightens with terror. What if she's harmed him? I start breathing rapidly as adrenaline and bone-numbing dread course through my body. Keep calm, keep calm"I repeat the

mantra over and over in my head.

She tilts her head to one side, regarding me as if I'm an exhibit in a freak show. Jeez,

I'm not the freak here.

It feels like an eon has passed while I process all this, though in reality it is only a split

second. Leila's expression remains blank, and her appearance is as scruffy and ill-kempt

as ever. She's still wearing that grubby trench coat, and she looks desperately in need of a

wash. Her hair is greasy and lank, plastered against her head, and her eyes are a dull brown,

cloudy, and vaguely confused.Despite the fact that my mouth has no moisture in it whatsoever, I attempt to speak.

"Hi. Leila, isn't it?" I rasp. She smiles, but it's a disturbing curl of her lip rather than a true

smile.

"She speaks," she whispers, and her voice is soft and hoarse at the same time, an eerie

sound.

"Yes, I speak," I say gently as if to a child. "Are you here alone?" Where is bilal? My

heart pounds at the thought that he might have come to some harm.

Her face falls, so much so that I think she's about to burst into tears"she looks so

forlorn.

"Alone," she whispers. "Alone." And the depth of sadness in that one word is heart

wrenching. What does she mean? I am alone? She's alone? She's alone because she's

harmed bilal? Oh . . . no . . . I have to fight the choking fear clawing at my throat as tears

threaten.

"What are you doing here? Can I help you?" My words are a calm, gentle interrogation

despite the suffocating fear in my throat. Her brow furrows as if she's completely befuddled by my questions. But she makes no violent move against me. Her hand is still relaxed

around her gun. I take a different tack, trying to ignore my tightening scalp.

"Would you like some tea?" Why am I asking her if she wants tea? It's ghulams answer

to any emotional situation, resurfacing inappropriately. Jeez, he'd have a fit if he saw me

right this minute. His army training would have kicked in, and he'd have disarmed her by

now. She's not actually pointing that gun at me. Perhaps I can move. She shakes her head

and tilts it from side to side as if stretching her neck.

I take a deep precious lungful of air, trying to calm my panicked breathing, and move

toward the kitchen island. She frowns as if she can't quite understand what I am doing and

shifts a little so she is still facing me. I reach the kettle and with a shaking hand fill it from

the faucet. As I move, my breathing eases. Yes, if she wanted me dead, surely she would

have shot me by now. She watches me with an absent, bemused curiosity. As I switch on

the kettle, I'm plagued by the thought of bilal. Is he hurt? Tied up?

"Is there anyone else in the apartment?" I ask tentatively.

She inclines her head the other way, and with her right hand"the hand not holding the

revolver"she grabs a strand of her long greasy hair and starts twirling and fiddling with

it, pulling and twisting. It's obviously a nervous habit, and while I am distracted by this,

I am struck once again by how much she resembles me. I hold my breath, waiting for her

answer, the anxiety building to an almost unbearable pitch.

"Alone. All alone," she murmurs. I find this comforting. Maybe bilal isn't here. The

relief is empowering.

"Are you sure you don't want tea or coffee?"

"Not thirsty," she answers softly, and she takes a cautious step toward me. My feeling

of empowerment evaporates. f**k! I start panting with fear again, feeling it surge thick and

rough through my veins. In spite of this and feeling beyond brave, I turn and fetch a couple

of cups from the cupboard.

"What do you have that I don't?" she asks, her voice assuming the singsong intonation

of a child.

"What do you mean, Leila?" I ask as gently as I can."Master"Mr. abdullah"he lets you call him by his given name."

"I'm not his submissive, Leila. Er . . . Master understands that I am unable, inadequate

to fulfill that role."

She tilts her head to the other side. It's wholly unnerving and unnatural as a gesture.

"In-ad-e-quate." She tests the word, sounding it out, seeing how it feels on her tongue.

"But Master is happy. I have seen him. He laughs and smiles. These reactions are rare . . .

very rare for him."

Oh.

"You look like me." Leila changes tack, surprising me, her eyes seeming to focus on

me properly for the first time. "Master likes obedient ones who look like you and me. The

others, all the same . . . all the same . . . and yet you sleep in his bed. I saw you."

Shit! She was in the room. I didn't imagine it.

"You saw me in his bed?" I whisper.

"I never slept in Master's bed," she murmurs. She's like a fallen ethereal wraith. Half

a person. She looks so slight, and in spite of the fact that she's holding a gun, I suddenly

feel overwhelmed with sympathy for her. Her hands flex around the weapon, and my eyes

widen, threatening to pop from my head.

"Why does Master like us like this? It makes me think something . . . something . . .

Master is dark . . . Master is a dark man, but I love him."

No, no, he's not. I bristle internally. He's not dark. He's a good man, and he's not in the

dark. He's joined me in the light. And now she's here, trying to drag him back with some

warped idea that she loves him.

"Leila, do you want to give me the gun?" I ask softly. Her hand grips it tightly, and she

hugs it to her chest.

"This is mine. It's all I have left." She gently caresses the gun. "So she can join her

love."

Holy shit! Which love"zain? It's like she's punched me in the stomach. I know

he will be here momentarily to find out what's keeping me. Does she mean to shoot him?

The thought is so horrific, I feel my throat swell and ache as a huge knot forms there, almost choking me, matching the fear that's balled tightly in my stomach.

Right on cue the door bursts open, and zain is standing in the doorway, Taylor

behind him.

Glancing at me briefly, zains eyes sweep over me from head to toe, and I notice

the small spark of relief in his look. But his relief is fleeting as his gaze darts to Leila and

stills, focusing on her, not wavering in the slightest. He glares at her with an intensity I have

not seen before, his eyes wild, wide, angry, and scared.

Oh no . . . oh no.

Leila's eyes widen, and for a moment, it seems her reason returns. She blinks rapidly

while her hand tightens once more around the gun.

My breath catches in my throat, and my heart starts thumping so loud that I hear the

blood pounding in my ears. No, no, no!

My world teeters precariously in the hands of this poor, f**ked-up woman. Will she

shoot? Both of us? zain? The thought is crippling. But after an eternity, as time hangs suspended around us, her head dips slightly and she

gazes up at him, through her long lashes, her expression contrite.

zain holds up his hand, signaling to Taylor to stay where he is. Taylor's blanched

face betrays his fury. I have never seen him like this, but he stands stock-still as zain

and Leila stare at each other.

I realize I'm holding my breath. What will she do? What will he do? But they just continue to stare at each other. zain's expression is raw, full of some unnamed emotion. It

could be pity, fear, affection . . . or is it love? No, please, not love!

His eyes bore into her, and agonizingly slowly, the atmosphere in the apartment changes. The tension is building so that I can sense their connection, the charge between them.

No! Suddenly I feel I'm the interloper, intruding on them as they stand gazing at each

other. I'm an outsider"a voyeur, spying on a forbidden, intimate scene behind closed

curtains.

zains intense gaze burns brighter, and his bearing changes subtly. He looks taller,

more angular somehow, colder, and more distant. I recognize this stance. I've seen him like

this before"in his playroom.

My scalp prickles anew. This is Dominant zain, and how at ease he looks. Whether he was born to or made for this role, I just don't know, but with a sinking heart and

sickened stomach, I watch as Leila responds, her lips parting, her breathing picking up as

the first flush of color stains her cheeks. No! It's such an unwelcome glimpse into his past,

agonizing to witness.

Finally, he mouths a word at her. I can't make out what it is, but the effect on Leila is

immediate. She drops to the floor on her knees, her head bowed, and the gun falls and skitters uselessly across the wooden floor. Holy f**k.

zain walks calmly over to where the gun has fallen and bends gracefully to pick

it up. He regards it with ill-disguised disgust then slips it into his jacket pocket. He gazes

once more at Leila as she kneels compliantly beside the kitchen island.

"aliya, go with Taylor," he commands. Taylor crosses the threshold and stares at

me.

"bilal," I whisper.

"Downstairs." He responds matter-of-factly, his eyes never leaving Leila.

Downstairs. Not here. Bilal's okay. Relief floods hard and fast through my blood, and

for a moment I think I'm going to faint.

"aliya," zains tone is clipped in warning.

I blink at him, and I'm suddenly unable to move. I don't want to leave him"leave

him with her. He moves to stand beside Leila as she kneels at his feet. He's hovering over

her, protectively. She's so still, it's unnatural. I can't take my eyes off the two of them"

together . . .

"For the love of God, aliya, will you do as you're told for once in your life and go!"

zains eyes lock with mine as he glowers at me, his voice a blistering cold shard of ice.

The anger beneath the quiet, deliberate delivery of his words is palpable.

Angry at me? Surely not. Please"No! I feel like he's slapped me hard. Why does he

want to stay with her?

"Taylor. Take Miss haider downstairs. Now."Taylor nods at him as I stare at zain.

"Why?" I whisper.

"Go. Back to the apartment." His eyes blaze frostily at me. "I need to be alone with

Leila." He says it urgently.

I think he's trying to convey some kind of message, but I'm so thrown by all that's happened that I'm not sure. I glance down at Leila and notice a very small smile cross her lips,

but otherwise she remains truly impassive. A complete submissive. f**k! My heart chills.

This is what he needs. This is what he likes. No! I want to wail.

"Miss haider. Aliya." Taylor holds his hand out to me, imploring me to come. I am immobilized by the horrific spectacle before me. It confirms my worst fears and plays on all

my insecurities: zain and Leila together"the Dom and his sub.

"Taylor," zain urges, and Taylor leans down and scoops me into his arms. The last

thing I see as we leave is zain gently stroking Leila's head as he murmurs something

softly to her.

No!

As Taylor carries me down the stairs, I lie limply in his arms trying to grasp what's

happened in the last ten minutes"was it longer? Or shorter? The concept of time has deserted me.

zain and Leila, Leila and zain . . . together? What is he doing with her now?

"Jesus, Aliya! What the f**k is going on?"

I am relieved to see bilal as he paces the small lobby, still carrying his large shoulder

bag. Oh, thank heavens he's okay! When Taylor sets me down, I practically throw myself

at bilal, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"bilal. Oh, thank God!" I hug him, holding him close. I was so worried, and for a

brief moment, I enjoy some respite from my rising panic at what is unfolding upstairs in

my apartment.

"What the f**k is going on, aliya? Who's this guy?"

"Oh, sorry, bilal, this is Taylor. He works with zain. Taylor, this is bilal, my

roommate's brother."

They nod at each other.

"aliya, upstairs, what's going on? I was fishing for the apartment keys when these guys

jumped out of nowhere and grabbed them. One of them was zain . . ." bilals voice

trails off.

"You were late . . . Thank God."

"Yeah. I met a friend from Pullman"we had a quick drink. Upstairs, what's going

on?"

"There's a girl, an ex of zains. In our apartment. She's gone postal, and zain

is . . ." My voice cracks, and tears pool in my eyes.

"Hey," bilal whispers and pulls me close once more. "Has anyone called the cops?"

"No, it's not like that." I sob into his chest and now I've started, I can't stop crying, the

tension of this latest episode releasing through my tears. bilal tightens his arms around

me, but I sense his bemusement."Hey, aliya, let's go get a drink." He pats my back awkwardly. Abruptly, I feel awkward,

too, and embarrassed, and in all honesty, I want to be on my own. But I nod, accepting his

offer. I want to be away from here, away from whatever's going on upstairs.

I turn to Taylor.

"Was the apartment checked?" I ask him tearfully, wiping my nose with the back of

my hand.

"This afternoon." Taylor shrugs apologetically as he hands me a handkerchief. He

looks devastated. "I'm sorry, aliya," he murmurs.

I frown. Jeez, he looks so guilty. I don't want to make him feel worse.

"She does seem to have an uncanny ability to evade us," he adds scowling again.

"bilal and I will go for a quick drink then head back to Escala." I dry my eyes.

Taylor shuffles from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Mr. abdullah wanted you to go back to

the apartment," he says quietly.

"Well, we know where Leila is now." I can't keep the bitterness out of my voice. "So,

no need for all the security. Tell zain we'll see him later."

Taylor opens his mouth to speak and then wisely closes it again.

"Do you want to leave your bag with Taylor?" I ask bilal.

"No, I'll keep it with me, thanks."

bilal nods at Taylor, then ushers me out of the front door. Too late, I remember that

I've left my purse in the back of Audi. I have nothing.

"My purse""

"Don't worry," bilal murmurs, his face full of concern. "It's cool, it's on me."

We choose a bar across the street, settling onto wooden bar stools by the window. I want

to see what's going on"who's coming, and more importantly who's going. bilal hands

me a bottle of beer.

"Trouble with an ex?" he says gently.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," I mutter, abruptly guarded. I can't talk about

this"I have signed an NDA. And for the first time, I really resent that fact and that zains said nothing about rescinding it.

"I've got time," bilal says kindly and takes a long slug of his beer.

"She's an ex, from years back. She left her husband for some guy. Then a couple of

weeks or so ago he was killed in a car crash, and now she's come after zain." I shrug.

There, that didn't give too much away.

"Come after him?"

"She had a gun."

"What the f**k!"

"She didn't actually threaten anyone with it. I think she meant to harm herself. But

that's why I was so worried about you. I didn't know if you were in the apartment."

"I see. She sounds unstable."

"Yes, she is."

"And what's zain doing with her now?"The blood drains from my face and bile rises in my throat. "I don't know," I whisper.

Bilal's eyes widen"at last he's got it.

This is the crux of my problem. What the f**k are they doing? Talking, I hope. Just

talking. Yet all I can see in my mind's eye is his hand, tenderly stroking her hair.

She's disturbed and zain cares about her, that's all this is, I rationalize. But in the

back of my mind, my subconscious is shaking her head sadly.

It's more than that. Leila was able to fulfill his needs in a way I cannot. The thought is

depressing.

I try to focus on all we've done in the last few days"his declaration of love, his flirty

humor, his playfulness. But Elena's words keep coming back to taunt me. It's true what

they say about eavesdroppers.

Don't you miss it . . . your playroom?

I finish my beer in record time, and bilal lines up another. I am not much of a companion, but to his credit he stays with me, chatting, trying to lift my spirits, talking about

Barbados, and yasmin and harshads antics, which is wonderfully distracting. But it's just that"

a distraction.

My mind, my heart, my soul are all still in that apartment with my Fifty Shades and the

woman who used to be his submissive. A woman who thinks she still loves him. A woman

who looks like me.

During our third beer, a large cruiser with heavily-tinted windows pulls up next to the

Audi in front of the apartment. I recognize Dr. Flynn as he climbs out, accompanied by

a woman dressed in what look like pale blue scrubs. I glimpse Taylor as he lets them in

through the front door.

"Who's that?" bilal asks.

"His name's Dr. Flynn. zain knows him."

"What kind of doctor?"

"A shrink."

"Oh."

We both watch, and a few minutes later they are back. zain is carrying Leila who

is wrapped in a blanket. What? I watch horrified as they all climb into the cruiser, and it

speeds away.

bilal glances at me sympathetically, and I feel desolate, completely desolate.

"Can I have something a bit stronger?" I ask bilal, my voice small.

"Sure. What would you like?"

"A brandy. Please."

bilal nods and retreats to the bar. I gaze through the window at the front door. Moments later Taylor emerges, climbs into the Audi, and heads off toward Escala . . . after

zain? I don't know.

bilal places a large brandy in front of me.

"Come on, haider. Let's get drunk."

Sounds like the best offer I've had in a while. We clink glasses, and I take a gulp of the

burning amber liquid, the fiery heat a welcome distraction from the hideous blossoming

pain in my heart.It's late, and I feel fuzzy. bilal and I are locked out of the apartment. He insists on

walking me back to Escala, but he won't stay. He's called the friend he met earlier for a

drink and arranged to crash with him.

"So, this is where the Mogul lives." bilal whistles through his teeth, impressed.

I nod.

"Sure you don't want me to come in with you?" he asks.

"No, I need to face this"or just go to bed."

"See you tomorrow?"

"Yes. Thanks, bilal." I hug him.

"You'll work it out, haider," he murmurs against my ear. He releases me and watches

while I head into the building.

"Laters," he calls. I offer him a weak smile and a wave then press the button to call the

elevator.

The elevator doors open, and I step into zains apartment. Taylor is not waiting,

which is unusual. Opening the double doors, I head toward the great room. zain is on

the phone, pacing the room near the piano.

"She's here," he snaps. He turns to glare at me as he switches off his phone. "Where the

f**k have you been?" he growls but doesn't make a move toward me.

Holy crap, he's angry with me? He's the one that just spent God knows how long with

his loony ex-girlfriend, and he's angry with me?

"Have you been drinking?" he asks, appalled.

"A bit." I didn't think it was that obvious.

He gasps and runs his hand through his hair. "I told you to come back here." His voice

is menacingly quiet. "It's now fifteen after ten. I've been worried about you."

"I went for a drink or three with Ethan while you attended to your ex," I hiss at him. "I

didn't know how long you were going to be . . . with her."

He narrows his eyes and takes a few paces toward me but stops.

"Why do you say it that like that?"

I shrug and stare down at my fingers.

"aliya, what's wrong?" And for the first time, I hear something other than anger in his

voice. What? Fear?

I swallow, trying to work out what I want to say. "Where's Leila?" I ask looking up at

him.

"In a psychiatric hospital in Fremont," he says, and his face is scrutinizing mine. "aliya,

what is it?" He moves toward me until he's standing right in front of me. "What's wrong?"

he breathes.

I shake my head. "I'm no good for you."

"What?" he breathes, his eyes widening in alarm. "Why do you think that? How can

you possibly think that?"

"I can't be everything you need."

"You are everything I need.

"Just seeing you with her . . ." My voice trails off.

"Why do you do this to me? This is not about you, aliya. It's about her." He takes a sharp

breath, running his hand through his hair again. "At the moment she's a very sick girl."

"But I felt it . . . what you had together."

"What? No." He reaches for me, and I step back instinctively. He drops his hand, blinking at me. He looks as though he's seized with panic.

"You're running?" he whispers as his eyes widen with fear.

I say nothing as I try to collect my scattered thoughts.

"You can't," he pleads.

"zain . . . I"" I struggle to collect my thoughts. What am I trying to say? I need

time, time to process this. Give me time.

"No. No!" he says.

"I . . ."

He looks wildly around the room. For inspiration? For divine intervention? I don't

know.

"You can't go. aliya, I love you!"

"I love you, too, zain, it's just""

"No . . . no!" he says in desperation and puts both hands on his head.

"zain . . ."

"No," he breathes, his eyes wide with panic, and suddenly he drops to his knees in front

of me, head bowed, long-fingered hands spread out on his thighs. He takes a deep breath

and doesn't move.

What? "zain, what are you doing?"

He continues to stare down, not looking at me.

"zain! What are you doing?" My voice is high-pitched. He doesn't move. "zain, look at me!" I command in panic.

His head sweeps up without hesitation, and he regards me passively with his cool gray

gaze"he's almost serene . . . expectant.

Holy f**k . . . zain. The submissive.