Chapter 10

HUXLEY

I’ve noticed Zainab’s drinking before, but it’s clear that tonight, she has taken it too far.

She’s at a corporate event for her job downtown. There’s a whole bunch of people here, including a lot of famous authors, and Zainab is one martini away from falling over.

I’ve already had to catch her twice when she stumbled in her heels. Luckily, the deathtraps she is wearing are high enough that most people believed that she simply tripped rather than that she’s intoxicated at a work event.

“What time are you wanting to leave?” I ask her quietly, hoping that she’ll say soon and I can get her out of here.

“Not for a while!” she insists. “I’ve still got to finish my drink.”

She holds up her glass, showing off the dregs of a drink we both know she’ll finish in one swallow. I narrow my eyes at her, and she rolls hers in return.

“Don’t be a party pooper, Griff.”

It feels weird hearing her say my real name, but it’s a good weird.

My chest hurts when I watch her slur her words as she talks to her colleagues. Some of them are quite tipsy so they don’t notice how inebriated she is, but others share a glance as she walks away.

I hate that she’s embarrassing herself, and I hate that they’re judging her. I want to know why she is drinking so heavily.

~What is she trying to cope with?~

From what I’ve learned about Zainab, she’s an independent person who, despite her busy lifestyle, often feels lonely.

Maybe it’s possible she drinks to numb those feelings of loneliness. She clearly doesn’t have any romance in her life—if her disdain at that manuscript was any indication.

~She needs someone~, I think. ~I would love to know what my shrink would make of this.~

Zainab gets another martini and ignores my look. I’m probably crossing the boundaries a bit, but it’s my job to look after her, and she’s making the wrong choices.

A large group of people enter, and I check with security to make sure they’ve been cleared.

I spot Zainab walking toward the toilets and slip away to follow her. I don’t think there are any threats at this place—it’s small and private—but you never know.

I lean against the wall outside the bathroom that she went into. Behind the locked door, I hear the sound of retching. My stomach turns.

I wait until there is a pause and gently rap my knuckles on the door.

“Zainab? Are you all right in there?”

“Fine,” she says weakly.

I give her another moment. The toilet flushes, and the water runs. A minute later, the door unlocks, and Zainab appears. Her mascara is smudged around her eyes, and her face is paler than usual.

“I think something disagreed with me,” she mumbles.

~Like the eight martinis you’ve drunk in the last two hours.~

“Let me get you home.”

This time, she doesn’t protest.

***

Once Zainab is safely in bed, lying on her side with a glass of water by the bed, I return to my own room to sleep.

I wake in the middle of the night from a particularly vivid nightmare. My body is covered with a thin layer of sweat, and my heart is pounding.

I quietly check on Zainab and find her sleeping soundly. I shut the door and go back to bed.

I don’t know when, if ever, these nightmares will stop.

ZAINAB

My new dress arrived this morning.

I unzip the garment bag and gasp at the sight inside. I knew it was the one when I first tried it on, but seeing it again and knowing I get to wear it tonight makes this even more exciting.

I give a twirl in front of the mirror, admiring the pale lilac satin. It’s also incredibly short and low-cut enough to show a hint of cleavage.

Satisfied, I clip on my shoes and step out of my bedroom.

Griff is waiting for me by the lift. His eyes widen as he takes me in, and his eyes zero in on my heels.

“You’re not wearing those, are you?”

“Yeah, why?”

I give him his own twirl, showing off that I can manage in these heels.

“If you break an ankle, I’m not driving you to the hospital.”

I laugh. “You know, Reagan said a similar thing.”

I walk up to him and gently pat his cheek.

“And Griff? You’re driving me to the hospital.”

I get into the lift; he scowls and follows me in.

Griff drives us to the city center, and we park in a multistory car park. It’s a short walk to the Opal from here.

Griff holds my arm to keep me upright over the bumpy pavement of London. When we get in, we’re told that my brother has rented out the VIP room.

Griff helps me up the stairs. Faisal is sitting in a round booth, his crew seated around him. He jumps to his feet when he sees me.

“Zai! You made it!”

He pulls me in for a hug and then looks down at me, pulling a face.

“Where’s the rest of your dress?”

I grin at him, wink at his friend, and reply, “It’s on Kofi’s bedroom floor.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. Kofi is openly gay; he knows full well nothing of mine would be in Kofi’s bedroom.

“Very funny. Let’s get you a drink, sis.”

HUXLEY

This evening is similar to watching a car accident in slow motion.

I can already see there is going to be some form of collision; it’s just unpredictable who is going to get hit first.

They’re completely wasted.

Faisal has been buying drinks with his limitless credit card, ordering bottle after bottle of expensive champagne to their table.

It’s been two hours, and it’s nearing two a.m. The group had decided earlier that they would leave at two and move onto another club.

The Opal is classy and more of a bar than a nightclub. These people want dancing and strobes and no doubt a more inconspicuous place to snort some drugs.

I know Zainab won’t touch the stuff, but that doesn’t stop her from drinking the champagne like it’s water.

“Ite! We’re headin’ out!” Faisal declares, getting to his feet.

He’s bouncing. He came out of the bathroom rubbing his nose half an hour ago, and I think his hit is starting to take effect.

There are three other members of security with us tonight, and we’ve been checking in with each other regularly. Three of us are spread around the room, guarding each entryway. The fourth is in the security room of the bar, monitoring CCTV.

Everyone gets up from the booth in varying stages of poise. A couple of Faisal’s crew are stable and walk out like it’s nothing. Faisal is off his face and practically charges out.

I’m reaching for Zainab the moment she shakily pushes off the seat and gets to her feet. She was hardly the poster girl for balance in those heels before she started drinking, and now she is Bambi on ice.

I don’t think twice about putting my arm around her waist and holding her close. She giggles and leans into me.

My initial instinct is to tense up at the contact. I’m not used to anyone touching me, let alone Zainab.

But my body is relaxed. It feels good to have her this close. I like it.

“Thanks, Griff,” she mumbles.

“I’ve got you,” I tell her as she slowly steps down from the platform. “Come on, let’s get to the car.”

With some difficulty, I get a very drunk Zainab down the stairs and out of the bar.

Faisal has ordered a stretch limo to take them to the next club. I can’t see this evening ending anytime soon. I’m already thinking of sleeping in tomorrow morning.

The security guard that was watching the CCTV is up front with the driver. The other two are at the front end of the limo, their backs to the partition.

Faisal and his crew are dotted along the side seats when I help Zainab into the car.

Faisal has already cracked open the minibar and is pouring for those drinking. I don’t understand how a man who doesn’t touch alcohol can get everyone else so drunk.

He hands Zainab a glass as I slide in next to her.

I watch her, wishing she wouldn’t drink it. Her eyes are glassy, her speech slurred, and her movements bumbling.

She’s wasted, and she needs to go home. But she’s my employer, so I have to clamp my mouth shut.

The limo pulls away from the curb and into the street. Zainab drinks half of the glass of bubbles and hands it to me to hold.

It’s only the two of us at the far end of the limo. I’m buckled in. I remind her to put on her seatbelt.

She doesn’t hear me over the music. Instead, she lowers the window and lifts herself out of it.

With her hands propped on the door, she bends over and pushes the upper half of her body out of the window to look out at London’s nightlife.

I reach out to steady her with my left hand, halting immediately as the most tempting and torturing sight greets me.

Bent out of the window like this, Zainab’s short dress has risen up her ass, exposing everything.

She’s wearing a tiny string of underwear that barely covers her ass crack. There is a little more material over her pussy, just enough to cover it, but I can still make out the shape of her lower lips, pressed between her thighs.

~Fucking kill me.~

I quickly avert my eyes. I risk a panicked look at the rest of the occupants of the limo, but they’re caught up in everything else.

One of the security guards is eyeing Zainab nervously, but he doesn’t seem to have realized the view I’m getting from my end.

Clearing my throat, I surreptitiously pour the rest of Zainab’s drink into the drain near the fridge. She really doesn’t need any more alcohol.

Then I turn back and place my hand on her back. The cut of her dress is so low that my palm rests on her skin.

She’s hot to the touch. Her spine is curved in the most sexy way, pushing her ass out and back. I can even see that there are two small dimples on her lower back.

~Fuck.~

“Zai?” I call, leaning over so that she’ll hear me. “Get back in the limo.”

She huffs and pulls herself back in just as the driver turns a corner. She loses her balance and tumbles back, landing in my lap with a giggle.

I tense up immediately, freezing in shock. Through my trousers I can feel her exposed buttocks pressing against my thighs.

Her dress has come up to her stomach now, exposing the minuscule triangle of fabric between her legs.

She looks up at me adoringly, batting long false eyelashes.

~Fucking hell.~