Chapter 22

HUXLEY

I know it’s all in my head, but my cheek tingles where Zainab kissed me goodbye when I dropped her off this morning.

It was such a natural action on her part; she didn’t even blink an eye. I, however, stared after her in surprise.

Of course I didn’t expect things to be the same between us, but I didn’t think she’d do something so public.

~We’re dating.~

I look down at my phone and smile to myself. I don’t know how many times I’ve looked at this photograph, but it must be tipping into the twenties now.

I have a Google alert set up for Zainab and her family. I got the notification the day after the event, and I saved the photo to my camera roll.

Zainab is wearing the silky dress that she called “champagne.” It makes her tan skin look even darker. Her hair is piled up on her head, showing off her long neck and smooth shoulders.

I’ve never thought of collarbones as sexy before I saw hers.

She’s coming out of the building, and I’m standing just behind her, my hand on her lower back. I look rather good in my tux, and I’m glad I splurged on renting an expensive one.

Even though I’m frowning and she is lost in thought, I love the picture because it’s of us.

It’s from Mr. Qadir’s event, the one where I took my eye off the ball and stupidly left Zainab in harm’s way.

And then there was that scare at the awards ceremony.

I found Zee a new bodyguard for when she’s at major events, but not for small things like going to the gym.

That said, I’ve learned my lesson; I’m going to keep an eye on her too.

The next big event she has coming up is her brother’s birthday. I’m not going to take my eyes off her for one second.

I get out of the car, ready to check out a potential date location for tomorrow.

ZAINAB

Griff has been annoyingly secretive about our date.

He chose Tuesday because I work remotely and could sign off a little earlier than usual.

When I asked his advice on what to wear, he gave me the unhelpful answer of “something comfortable.” When I asked if we would be doing anything physical, sexual, or otherwise, he told me (with the faintest hint of a smile) that I’d have to wait and see.

Without his help, I picked an outfit. Judging from the smile I get from Griff as I step out of my bedroom, I’ve chosen well.

My thigh-high boots are keeping my legs relatively warm; there’s a few inches of leg on show thanks to my black, pleated tennis skirt. My cashmere jumper and leather jacket match perfectly, all in gray and black.

“You look beautiful,” Griff murmurs.

He takes my hand and pulls me in for a peck. I pout at him, disappointed by how tame the kiss is, but also relieved that he’s making a move.

I’ve had to encourage most of the physical interaction between us. I like it when he initiates.

“Do I get to know where we’re going?” I ask him as we drive through the packed streets of London.

It’s past six, and it’s a Tuesday, but rush hour isn’t a thing in London. It’s more like “rush day.” I swear, even at one a.m. you could still get stuck in traffic.

“No.”

It amazes me that Griffith could open up to me on Saturday, that we could have that huge heart-to-heart, yet he can go straight back to one-word answers as if he were flipping a switch.

Don’t get me wrong, part of Griff’s appeal is his stoicism. I love that he is introverted and that I get to see a side of him that no one else does. It makes me feel special.

I also like knowing that I have to work to find things out about him, but most of the time him being a closed book is frustrating as hell.

I purse my lips and quietly sulk as Griffith takes us through the capital city. He parks up in a giant parking complex, giving me no clues as to where we are going or what we are doing.

My mood is somewhat lifted when he casually reaches for my hand. He might be holding my hand so that he can guide me out of the building, but I see it as us acting like a real couple on a real date.

“It’s a five-minute walk. I hope that’s okay,” he says, eyeing my heeled boots.

My four-inch heels close the gap between us a little bit, but he’s still taller than me.

“That’s fine, as long as food is involved at some point. I’m so hungry.”

His lips twitch.

“Food is involved; don’t worry.”

He doesn’t say anything else as he leads me down streets and around corners, eventually stopping in front of a bar called Players.

The name could be interpreted many ways, but the illuminated neon sign in the shape of a controller is a giveaway.

“We’re gaming?” I ask him curiously.

He looks almost embarrassed as he gives me a bashful smile.

“Yeah…if you want to? I looked it up, and it’s got great reviews. You said you and your brother used to play Mario Kart. I thought we could give it a go.”

“Yes! That sounds awesome. Let’s go inside!”

Griff chuckles and follows me in.

I can see the relief on his face as we pay for our entry and each receive a controller to plug in.

We’re taken to our own private room, where the TV screen takes up the entire wall.

After selecting our characters and which course we want, we start the race.

By the fifth game, it’s two to three, Griff. That guy has some secret ninja skills despite his insisting that it’s only his second time.

I don’t even care that I’m losing. I’m having too much fun. We taunt and jibe each other, knocking each other occasionally as things get heated during races.

It’s funny to see such an oversized man get competitive with a tiny controller in his hands.

When he beats me again, I throw down my controller in protest.

“Okay, now I’m not just hungry but a loser as well. Feed me now if you want to salvage this date,” I tell him, trying to sound serious but failing when he grins at me.

“If I had known you would be such a sore loser, I wouldn’t have booked the second part of our date. We might have to skip it.”

“Second part? What is it?” I ask eagerly, and he laughs again.

“Come on, food first.”

He puts his arm around me. I try to act like it’s no big deal so that it won’t make him self-conscious, but my heart is racing.

I love it when he touches me. I’m like a pathetic girl desperate for a guy’s attention, but I can’t stop myself.