Chapter 2.
"It was still early, barely nine and because it was Saturday the roads were a bit congested. Still, she felt free and she headed from the relative tranquillity of Clifton, one of the wealthiest suburbs in Cape Town, towards the city. Usually she would go to Newlands and spend the day with Ayan and Humeira... but she knew that it was the first place Asad would look. He knew how limited her social life was. Instead, she thought of all the things she could do with this unexpected time and, deciding to stick with the trend of the day, opted for the most out of character thing she could think of... she went to the movies. It was the purest form of escapism she could think of and if there was anything that Zoya desperately wanted, it was to escape from her life. So she spent her day, going from one cinema to the next; laughing, crying, cringing or jumping, depending on the plot. It was the most unproductive day she had ever spent in her life and she loved it!
By the time the last show of the day finished it was after midnight and she had a throbbing headache from nothing but darkness and the flickering light of the projector and a slightly upset stomach from a diet of soda and popcorn. It was as she was heading back to her car, that the sudden reality of her situation sank in and she started trembling. She didn't know what to expect from Asad... she had never seen him display anything other than icy control, even in bed but it was the first time she had ever done anything like this and while she knew he would never physically hurt her, she also knew that emotionally, his potential to hurt her was unlimited. She cringed at the thought of his icy sarcasm and reluctantly made her way home.
The house was ablaze with light when she got back and the dread made her stomach heave. She swallowed down her nausea and bravely parked her car and headed toward the front door. It was wrenched open before she even had the chance to get her keys out.
She gulped slightly at the huge form of her husband looming in the doorway and stifled a yelp when he grabbed her arm and yanked her inside. He slammed the door shut, gripping both shoulders in his huge hands and backed her up until she was leaning against the door. It took her a few seconds to get over her disorientation and realise that he wasn't hurting her, his gaze was feverishly raking up and down her trembling body, until apparently satisfied that everything was in relatively good condition he raised his eyes to meet hers full on.
His eyes, which she'd had so little opportunity to actually look into, were heartbreakingly beautiful, but right now they were smoldering in fury. His hands released her shoulders and crept up to her face... she flinched slightly at the contact but
they remained gentle, moving to cup her jaw, his large thumbs brushing over her cheeks. Her breathing became ragged when he leaned toward her, dipping his head closer to hers... he was so near now she could feel his clean, warm breath on her face. He tilted her jaw slightly and she groaned, aching for his lips on hers, wanting it so desperately her legs had just about turned to jelly and the only thing that kept her from falling to a puddle at his feet was his own huge body braced against hers. She could feel his erection throbbing against her stomach and knew he wanted it as desperately as she did... His lush mouth was centimeters away from hers and when he finally spoke, his lips brushed against her mouth.
"You pull a stunt like this again sweetheart and I swear to God, you'll regret it!" She flinched away from him as reality brought her back down to earth with a thump. He let her go and she slid down the door to land at his feet. He raked a contemptuous gaze over her, the ice back and the fire gone...
"Where have you been?" He asked calmly. She staggered to her feet, humiliated that she had allowed him to affect her to such an extent that she would fall at his feet. She tilted her head back defiantly and refused to answer him.
"Zoya... I'm warning you..."
"Warn away..."she taunted shakily. "You want to stay married? Fine. But I refuse to let you walk all over me anymore. It's time you start showing me some respect!"
"How the hell am I supposed to respect someone who sold herself to the highest bidder?" He growled with tight control and she gasped, stung. "I have no respect for you, Zoya... not even as the potential mother of my child because, quite frankly, you can't even do that right."
She lost it, completely, and for the first time in her entire life Zoya resorted to violence. She launched herself at him, hissing, spitting and scratching like a cat! In that moment she hated him so much that it felt like a living thing trying to claw its way out of her to get at him. When she came back to herself, she realised that he had her in his arms, her back to his front, her wrists in his hands and her arms crossed over her chest. They were both out of breath and she realised that there were terrible mewling sounds coming from the back of her throat, the words of hate she had repeatedly hurled at him, having long ago faded into incoherent sobs. His lips were in her hair, just above her left ear and he was making soothing sounds, not hurting her, just
restraining her with his superior strength. She went limp, hanging defeated from his arms.
"I'm sorry..." she froze; the words were so quiet she was not sure she'd heard him correctly.
"That was... cruel and wrong of me." More words? She didn't know how to respond and so chose not to say anything. She felt him swallowing, before he slowly released her wrists and stepped away from her. She made a show of rubbing them, even though he hadn't hurt her at all... instead; she seemed to have inflicted most of the damage on both of them. A few of her nails were broken and her fists were bruised from when she had managed to land a few angry punches against his hard body. She turned around to face him and was shocked to realise that she had made him bleed. He had scratches on his hands and face, a deep, angry-looking one in his neck... he also had bite marks on his muscled forearms and a darkening bruise on his jaw, where she'd managed to land a lucky punch. He saw her eyes land on the bruise and ruefully rubbed at it.
"You can really punch" he said sheepishly, he looked idly down at her hands, before swearing softly. "You've hurt yourself." He lifted one and grimaced down at the bruises and broken nails.
She snatched her hand from his; she was not sure what this weird act was about and definitely did not trust it. His eyes darkened at her mistrustful glare and he shoved his hands into his pockets. She pushed her way past him before heading toward the staircase
"Zoya..." she stopped with her back to him. "I really am sorry about what I said... It wasn't true." She knew his apology was insincere because while he hadn't ever said the words, she knew that he blamed her for the baby she had lost early on in their marriage. The fact that she hadn't conceived since had merely cemented his low opinion of her. So she had no idea why he felt the need to apologise for words he had definitely meant.
"I'm going to bed," she whispered, ignoring the apology and still not looking at him.
"Yes..." He moved out of her way and buried his hands in his trouser pockets. She was intensely aware of his eyes boring into her back as she walked away from him and held her head up as she ascended the stairs to the second floor.
She made her way to one of the luxurious guest rooms and tears welled in her eyes, Asad's cruel words had struck a nerve. Zoya had always felt guilty about the baby she had lost after just five months of marriage and three months of pregnancy, she had always felt that the miscarriage was her fault because when she had realized that she was pregnant she had wished the child away and worse, after she had lost the baby she had been ashamed to realize that relief was mingled in along with the heartbreak. She had hated herself for that, had felt that there was something wrong with her for wishing her own child out of existence. She had never shared what she had felt with Asad and they had mourned the tiny life's passing separately, never talking about it. Now she suspected he had known all along and that had simply increased his contempt for her.
Despite her extreme depression after the miscarriage she had worked through it on her own, Ayan and Humeira hadn't even known about her pregnancy. She had felt so terrible about her reaction to the baby that she had never told them, feeling that her behaviour had been indefensible. But tonight, Asad's cruel taunts had quite simply sent her over the edge and she was ashamed to recall how completely she had lost it.
She sighed, trying to shake herself out of her depress mood and after a quick shower; she fell into bed wearing only a long t-shirt and panties
which she had quickly grabbed from her chest on drawers in the master suite. Despite the drama of the day, she fell asleep almost immediately. She didn't know how long she had been asleep before she heard the quiet knock on the door. She immediately awoke and sat up, pushing her tangled hair out of her face.
"Zoya! Open the damned door!" He angrily thumped on the wood again and this time it was loud enough to make her jump up and hurriedly unlock and open the door, for fear that he would wake the live-in housekeeper. Despite the fact that his voice had been only a harsh whisper through the wood, she was in no doubt that he was absolutely livid. She stood staring up at him in the dim light and was surprised by the flash of hot fury on his face, which was so quickly masked beneath the more familiar mask of icy indifference, that she wasn't sure if she had imagined the unaccustomed emotion or not.
"What are you doing in here?" He asked stiffly.
"I've decided to move into this room," she informed quietly and his jaw clenched. She had anticipated having this conversation but not until morning. Asad was full of surprises today... she had known that he would be upset about her
moving out of their bedroom but it was completely out of character for him to actually come thumping on her bedroom door demanding an explanation in the dead of night! She had expected a cold and controlled conversation about it over the breakfast table.
The light from the landing was just bright enough for her to see the stormy emotion brewing in his eyes and she swallowed a lump of disappointment when the emotion was doused in ice.
"I can see that," he gritted out. "I think the important question is why?" And she could see that it just about killed him to ask it.
"I'd feel like a hypocrite if I stayed in the master bedroom with you," she shrugged again. "Just this morning I told you I wanted a divorce, so it wouldn't feel right if I continued to share your bed as if we'd never had that conversation."
"You're being ridiculous," he dismissed.
"No... I think I'm actually making sense for the first time in nearly two years."
"My wife..." he placed a lot of sarcastic emphasis on the last word. "...sleeps with me. You will come back to our bedroom if I have to drag you there kicking and screaming!"
"I.I... m.may have to sleep with you,
"Asad," she conceded, knowing that if he chose to do as he threatened, she would definitely lose to his superior size and strength. "But I won't be having sex with you anymore..."
"You would deny me, your husband, this basic marital right?" He sounded frankly astonished by that, as astonished as Zoya felt for even daring to say the words.
"Yes." His eyes narrowed and he took a threatening step toward her.
"What's to stop me from simply taking what belongs to me?" He asked speculatively, his eyes raking dismissively over her thin, shivering, t-shirt clad body and Zoya crossed her arms over her chest and hunched her shoulders defensively.
"I don't belong to you," she said softly.
"Well, I certainly gave huge amounts of money for you... that feels like ownership to me."
"Look, I have no idea what you're talking about," she protested in frustration and he laughed softly.
"And you're still singing the same tired old tune," he mocked. "This is beside the point. I have no wish to rehash these details, it achieves nothing. Come on, we're going to bed!" He grabbed her hand and tugged her back toward their bedroom a few doors down the hall. She was so shocked by the abrupt gesture that she stumbled along behind him, before instinct kicked in and she dug in her heels, leaving him to practically drag her the last few feet.
Zoya was out of breath and furious when he finally released her hand. They were in the master bedroom, facing each other and she glared at him... refusing to be intimidated by his scowl.
"When did you become the barbarian Man, Asad? I never thought you would resort to caveman tactics..." he didn't like being called a barbarian, not her suave, sophisticated, rigid husband, she saw it in the way his mouth thinned and his eyes flared. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her up against him.
"You haven't seen the devil in me yet, sweetheart. I advise you not to push me on this, not unless you want things to get really ugly between us," he was using his whole body to intimidate her, leaning over and into her, nose to nose with her.
"I.I don't see how things can get any uglier..." she whispered."
"You really don't want to find out how much worse it can get, trust me on that," his eyes were boring into hers and her breath was coming in small, shallow gasps. She was suddenly aware of how closely she was pressed against him and felt a betraying flash of heat uncoiling in the pit of her stomach and radiating outward. Even though Asad never really let himself go in bed, he was still an incredible lover and despite, or maybe because of, the clinical precision with which he conducted the act, he always made sure she climaxed. She would have traded any number of those orgasms for a kiss of course, or even a show of affection afterwards but she couldn't help her reaction to him. He could always make her melt. Chemistry was a terrible thing, sometimes it simply sparked between the wrong people.
His eyes were still locked with hers and she felt the sudden change in his breathing and his heart rate... he leaned even closer, his mouth nearly touching hers, their breath mingled and came in jagged gasps. If she moved her head, just a fraction of an inch, their lips would be touching...
she couldn't resist and she tensed herself to do just that, when he suddenly swore and stepped away from her. Zoya blinked and felt like someone coming out of a trance."
"Just go to bed," he put his hand in the small of her back and gave her a gentle push toward the bed.
"I'm not going to have..." she began to protest.
"I know. I'm not exactly in the right frame of mind for it either," he prodded her again.
"You won't touch me?"
"Not unless you want me to." He shrugged as if he didn't care either way.
"I don't want you to." She asserted firmly.
"Then you have nothing to worry about," he turned away from her and stripped off his casual shirt, leaving him abruptly naked from the chest up. As always, he stole her breath away and she had to force herself to turn away from the seductive sight of her half-naked husband and head to bed. She crept beneath the covers and kept her back to him but she was achingly aware of every sound he made as he headed toward the en-suite, discarding even more clothes along the way. For such a precise and controlled man in every other aspect of his life, Asad tended to be a bit messy in his own space; it was rather endearing the way he would casually drop a shirt here, a sock there... obviously expecting the magical cleaning fairies to pick up after him. That "magical cleaning fairy" was usually Zoya; she was a bit of a neat freak and would quite compulsively pick up and fold everything he dropped. Well not anymore, she suddenly thought fumingly, he could damned well pick up his own shirts.
She suddenly wryly acknowledged to herself that this resolution would only last as long as it took for the maid to come in and clean it up...the one thing about being fabulously wealthy was that you didn't have to think about mundane things like picking up after yourself. And Asad had been spoiled into believing the universe revolved around him since birth. While Zoya's family had been wealthy too, she had never taken anything for granted, not when she had an emotionally-detached father who quite relentlessly pointed out her every flaw.
She sighed softly and turned over to watch the door of the en-suite, he hadn't shut it completely and a narrow sliver of light streamed out into the darkened bedroom. Steam was creeping out along the edges of the door and she could smell the spicy scent of his soap as he showered. The shower stopped abruptly and she heard the rustling sounds of him towel-drying. She smiled softly to herself as she heard the towel drop to
the floor after he finished. She was achingly familiar with every detail of his nightly ablutions; he usually showered, shaved in the shower and brushed his teeth afterwards. Five minutes later the light in the en-suite went out and he stepped out into the dark bedroom.
He usually slept wearing shorts only. He smelled divine and she had to fight the impulse to turn toward him. He didn't say a word and made no move toward her, staying on his side of the bed. No surprise there... he usually stayed on his side of the bed anyway, unless he felt the need to work on his long-term project to sire a son, only then would he move toward her, touch her, caress her... do everything but love her. Zoya never instigated their intimate encounters. She had learned early on that any move toward such intimacy was usually rebuffed and her fragile self-esteem didn't deal well with rejection, so she had stopped trying.
Ironically enough tonight, after her decree that he not touch her, was the first time in a long time that she was actually tempted to move toward him. She clenched her fists and curled into a ball, trying not to think of all that tempting half naked, male flesh lying next to her. She knew he was awake, she could tell from the rhythm of his breathing and obviously he knew she was awake, she was way too tense to be asleep.
"Just go to sleep for God's sake," his impatient voice suddenly rang out in the darkness. "I said I wouldn't touch you and I won't... so you can relax!" She tensed even more at the sound of his voice and he swore softly.
"If you can't sleep, I have the perfect solution for your insomnia," he murmured suggestively, leaving her in no doubt as to his "solution".
"You're not helping matters," she gritted through clenched teeth and he laughed quietly.
"Well if neither of us can sleep..."
"We haven't been in bed long enough to fall asleep... just hush!" She hissed.
"You know you're being ridiculous, right?" He murmured in his most patronisingly logical voice. It was a voice that usually drove her absolutely crazy.
"I don't care how ridiculous you think I'm being," she flipped over to face him and could barely make out his profile in the dark. He was lying on his back, with one arm tucked beneath his head. When he felt her turn over he turned his head to look at her. She could see only the whites of his eyes in the dark. "This is what I want, Asad."
"I don't believe that for a second," he maintained, reaching out to touch her face with one gentle hand. "The sex has always been good between us, Zoya... that's one thing that's never been in doubt. It's the one damned thing that's working in this marriage."
"It wasn't working for me," she muttered defiantly. That bruised his masculine ego; she sensed it in the way he tensed.
"You weren't faking those responses," he negated stiffly.
"No, I wasn't. You're really very good..." she agreed, realising too late that she didn't sound very convincing at all. "It just isn't enough for me anymore."
"I'm not enough for you anymore?" He asked flatly and she knew she had to tread carefully here.
"That's not quite what I meant..."
"Oh?"
"Asad, you're being deliberately dense." Okay that wasn't quite the right thing to say either. She could practically feel him bristling next to her.
"It'll probably be best if you didn't say anything else, Zoya..."
"Look you're deliberately misunderstanding me here..." She began.
"Not another word..." He warned.
"But..." suddenly she was on the flat of her back with him straddling her hips. She gasped and writhed as she tried to dislodge him.
"I warned you," he growled.
"Get off me," she hissed angrily pushing futilely at his hot, naked chest.
"No." He settled himself more firmly against her, moving his hips until her thighs reluctantly parted and he was lodged between them. Her t-shirt had ridden up to her waist, leaving only her small bikini panties as a barrier between them. She was achingly aware of his bare flesh rubbing against the tender skin of her inner thighs and felt herself responding, moving with him, wanting more contact. He groaned and buried his face in her neck, his lips nuzzling her neck, moving up over her jaw line, her chin, skirting past her mouth before finally brushing over her cheek and capturing one sensitive earlobe between his teeth. It was the blatant avoidance of her mouth that quite effectively doused the flame that had started a slow burn in her gut.
"This is not what I want," she said firmly, using all her strength to push him away but he wouldn't budge.
"Yes it is," he whispered into her ear.
"If you do this, it'll be against my will," she asserted desperately. "And you know what that's called!" He froze abruptly, before moving off her and back to his side of the bed.
"You would accuse me of something so despicable?" He sounded mortally offended but Zoya wasn't about to allow herself to be swayed.
"If the shoe fits..."
"What does that mean?" He growled. "Some damned ambiguous idiom that doesn't apply to this situation at all! There was no force involved in what just happened."
"You pinned me down and refused to get off me when I asked you to. That's a pretty clear example of force..." he didn't respond and merely lay there seething in outraged silence. She had once again succeeded in bruising his masculine pride and Zoya was human and petty enough to give herself a mental high five. They didn't speak at all after that and Zoya eventually fell into a restless sleep.
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