Chapter 6

HUXLEY

Zainab likes to cook. I’ve discovered that pretty fast.

She knocked on my door earlier when I was reading and asked if I was okay with her making dinner for us. I agreed, both out of hunger and politeness.

It doesn’t take long for delicious smells to spread through the flat and draw me from my room.

I find her standing behind the island, checking the temperature of a hunk of meat in a roasting pan. My stomach growls at the sight.

Spotting me, she looks up and smiles. “Roasted beef okay?”

“More than okay; that smells incredible.”

She grins. My stomach tightens, and I find myself returning the smile without realizing it.

I cough and wipe the smile from my face.

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Um, yeah, actually. Can you please take the vegetables out of the oven? I’m going to leave the beef to rest for a bit.”

I thought her kitchen was big, but it suddenly feels too small for the both of us as we move around. I open the oven to take out the baking tray, bumping straight into her. Our bodies connect, and I mumble my apologies.

We both reach for the cupboard at the same time, and our hands touch. Her cheeks flush pink and she smiles shyly, pulling back to let me get the plates out.

I feel so aware of her presence. Her perfume fills my nose despite the entire roast beef joint filling the room with rosemary.

“Do you want to do the honors?”

I look over to find her holding out the carving fork and knife to me. I take them, our eyes locking.

“Thank you. This looks so good.”

Her face lights up at my praise, and my heart flips.

I focus on the meat instead of her.

She gets a bottle of red out of the cupboard and holds it up in question. I nod, and she pours us each a glass.

She sips her drink as she watches me carve the meat. I don’t miss the way she’s already drunk half her glass and topped it up again before I’ve finished serving up.

“I can cook tomorrow if you want.”

The words come out before I can stop them.

She’s made all this effort for us tonight. I want to return the favor. I feel a strange need to impress her, and that’s dangerous. She’s my client, nothing more.

“Or not, whatever, I don’t mind,” I add a little coldly before she can reply.

I sneak a glance at her, and she looks surprised by my change in tone.

I need to keep some distance between us. It would be so easy to let my guard down, but I can’t let that happen.

***

I wake with a sudden lurch, my body throwing itself forward. I’m breathing heavily, and I take a moment to try and slow it down.

As usual, it takes me a second to get my bearings.

It has been four days of living with Zainab. I have never lived with a woman in my life. I haven’t lived with anyone else since I finished my last tour two years ago.

I knew moving here would be a major adjustment, and I’m honestly surprised that this is the first nightmare I’ve had.

Zainab isn’t loud, but even her soft footfalls make my ears prick up. I’m on high alert for a few seconds before my mind catches up and tells me to relax. It’s not a threat.

I listen to her walk down the hall and wonder why she’s awake too. I pull on a shirt and go for the door. I don’t know what I’m going to say to her, but there’s a certain solidarity when you’ve both got insomnia.

Zainab emerges from the bathroom and jumps at the sight of me.

“Huxley! You scared me,” she whispers. “What are you doing up?”

I shrug. “Just woke up for some reason. You done in there?”

She doesn’t look like she believes me, and I realize that I’m probably still sweaty from my nightmare.

“Sure, all yours. Uh, night.”

She disappears into her room, and I step into the bathroom. My forehead is covered in sweat. It’s a good thing I booked a phone appointment with my therapist for tomorrow when Zainab is at work.

I finish up in the bathroom and quietly head back to the guest room.

My eye catches on the bookshelf. I cannot believe Zainab is a book editor. The only thing that has gotten me through hard times is books.

I don’t know what I was expecting when I met Zainab, but a beautiful woman who speaks the King’s English, dresses like a knockout, and holds her own in a crowd of her brother’s friends is not it.

She knocked me off my feet. I spent most of my first night here in bed thinking about her, trying to work her out.

At first I thought she was spoiled. Now? I’m not so sure.

Reagan had filled me in during our hand-over conversation. Zainab is different from her brother in that she has a routine and sticks to it. Having spent ten weeks dealing with the endlessly impulsive and spontaneous Faisal, I was relieved to hear that Zainab is more organized.

With how immaculate her flat is, I would go as far as to say she’s a control freak.

Funnily enough, so am I.

I fall back asleep with surprising ease and wake feeling well rested.

It’s Tuesday. It’s our fifth day together, and we have fallen into a routine of sorts.

Zainab works from home today in her office. I spend most of my time in the living room.

She goes out for lunch, and I shadow her around town.

She finishes her workday at five, and now it’s past five, so she should be wrapping up soon.

As if on cue, I hear her office door open. I’m sitting on one of her sofas, rereading ~The Shining~.

Zainab walks into the room and smiles.

She always looks pleased to see me. It makes my chest tight.

I want to be warmer to her, but it’s so damn hard. I’m caught in an internal war of wanting to get to know her but also being aware that she is fucking gorgeous and, in many ways, my dream woman.

I am her bodyguard. A certain level of professionalism is expected. I need to be standoffish, keep distance between us.

I want to have the relationship she had with Reagan.

Actually, I want more than that, but it’s dangerous territory.

This whole setup will be a lot easier if she thinks I’m a dick.

I subtly watch her as she pours herself a glass of white wine and surveys the open fridge.

“I’m going to start dinner. Chicken stir fry okay?”

“Sounds great.” I get to my feet. “Want me to do anything?”

She grabs a knife and points to one of the stools.

“Sit there and keep me entertained?” she suggests, grinning.

Her smile is infectious. It’s so hard to keep a straight face.

I sit down hesitantly; being near her is not a good idea.

“How am I supposed to entertain you?” I ask stiffly.

She shrugs.

“I dunno, tell me about the States. I find it so interesting, the differences between our countries.”

Her comment intrigues me. “Like?”

“Like the shirt you’re wearing, for example. It’s a Henley, right?”

I look down with surprise and nod. “Yeah, it is.”

“That style of shirt originated in Britain, but far more Americans wear them than Brits do.”

“So… you find the difference in our clothing choices interesting?”

She shrugs again. “That’s just one example.”

She glances around, and her eyes land on the fridge.

“The fact that milks are different. Like, we say full fat or semi-skimmed.”

“And we have whole and skimmed, but we also have two percent.”

“Exactly! What is that?”

“Two percent fat. It’s similar to semi-skimmed, I guess.”

“Right.” She starts preparing the chicken. “What else? Is there anything you’ve noticed since moving here?”

“Your chocolate tastes different. Creamier.”

She gives me a surprised look, and then her mouth lifts in a smile.

“You’ve been trying the chocolate? I never see you sneak it,” she teases me.

“I may have tried a bar or two while you’re at work.”

She grins at me, and my stoic facial expression slips.

She finishes her glass of wine and tops it up to just below the rim.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks.

My heart beats faster, my brain working a million miles an hour with all the possibilities it could be.

“Sure,” I reply, but my voice sounds strained.

She turns back around and places her palms flat on the counter. She looks serious as she meets my eyes. Her irises are like two pieces of obsidian.

“These threats my brother has been receiving…”

I let out a breath. ~This~ is a topic I can handle.

“How serious do you think they are? Should I be worried?”

I hesitate, wondering how to answer diplomatically. This could blow back on me if I’m not careful. I don’t want to spook her.

“I think all threats should be taken seriously. While I can’t speak to how serious they are, I think your brother has taken the right precautions to keep you safe. I haven’t seen anyone following us when we’ve left the flat.”

Zainab looks a little relieved by my comment and nods.

“Okay. How do you think Faisal is taking them? You were with him a lot. Is he worried?”

This is dangerous territory again. I don’t want to speak for her brother.

“I think he has brushed them aside, but he considered them serious enough to assign me to your security.”

She nods again and presses her lips together.

She hasn’t read the threats Faisal received. She doesn’t know how aggressive that crazed fan is. I need her to understand the gravity of the situation without freaking her out.

I don’t yet know if they would target Zainab, but it’s not a risk that I’m willing to take.