Chapter 9

ZAINAB

We both spin at the sound of Jake’s voice.

His eyes narrow in on the panic in my expression.

“Jake,” I breathe out his name like a prayer.

The drunken lech tenses up and slowly removes his hand from my thigh.

“Am I interrupting?” Jake asks slowly, still trying to gauge the situation.

I don’t blame him for not coming in all guns blazing. He doesn’t want to presume something incorrectly and get himself fired.

“Yes, please interrupt. I need to leave,” I beg him.

He walks over to us and glares at the man.

“I suggest you take a step back,” he warns.

His eyes drop to the man’s hand around my wrist, and his glare becomes dangerous.

“And let go of Miss Qadir.”

The loose skin below the man’s chin wobbles as he swallows nervously. His smile becomes charming again.

“Of course, of course. We were only having a little chat, weren’t we?”

He flashes me a grin and then turns back to Jake.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Who are you?”

Jake looks back at me, ignoring the drunk completely.

“Would you like to leave?”

I reach out and grab his forearm, my fingers digging into the sleeve of his suit. I hope he gets the silent message.

I give him a tight smile. “Please.”

Jake takes my hand and tucks my arm into the crook of his. He places his big, warm palm over mine and holds it tightly as he guides me back into the main corridor.

“Is there anywhere we can take a moment?” I whisper to Jake as we hurriedly turn the corner.

“There’s a place up ahead, I believe. I saw it on the blueprints.”

We reach the room. He tries the handle with his free hand, but it’s locked.

“One moment.”

He pulls his phone out and scrolls through some PDFs. He finds the key code and punches it in.

The door opens. I breathe a sigh of relief and follow him inside.

He flips on the lights. It looks like a boardroom with a long table and about twenty chairs around it. A whiteboard and projector are set up at the far side of the room.

Jake guides me to one of the chairs, and I slowly sit down. I lean forward and let out a deep breath.

“Zainab, are you all right?” His voice is gentle. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t come earlier. I was trying to give you your privacy, and you were only around the corner. If I had known—”

“It’s okay, Jake.”

It feels like this is the most he’s ever spoken, but I hate that it’s an apology.

He has nothing to apologize for. What happened was entirely that bastard’s fault. I know I can’t always handle my liquor, but I don’t go touching people without their consent.

“It’s not okay. Look at you; you’re shaken up. I had no idea if I was interrupting you or saving you. I’m sorry. If I had known I would have fucking hit him.”

It’s the first time Jake has sworn, and the word sounds crude on his lips. I laugh softly.

“Don’t apologize; it wasn’t your fault. That man is a drunk creep.”

I rub my upper arms, feeling cold all of a sudden.

“You should report him to the police. That man had his hands on you when you didn’t want him to.”

I shake my head, smiling sadly. “Nothing would come of it. With men like that, nothing sticks. Besides, he didn’t really ~do~ anything.”

“He made you feel uncomfortable, Zee,” he says softly.

Despite myself, I smile at his nickname for me. He doesn’t even seem to be aware that he said it.

I shiver and rub my upper arms again. Jake snaps out of his thoughts. He doesn’t say anything as he shrugs out of his jacket and puts it around my shoulders.

“Are you sure?”

“Take it.”

“Thank you,” I mumble and pull the lapels to tighten it closed around me.

The jacket swamps me beautifully. It’s still warm from his body, and it smells incredible—like the aftershave I smelled on the first day I met him.

I can see that he’s angry at himself. He’s frowning as he stares at the carpet.

I reach over and place my hand over his. He doesn’t say anything as he turns his hand over and wraps his fingers around mine.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, holding hands and listening to each other’s breathing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Stop apologizing,” I whisper back.

“My job is to protect you, and I didn’t do that.”

“You did. You saved me, so stop saying sorry,” I argue. “You didn’t mess up; I did. I’m the one who should have stood up for myself. I should have stopped worrying so much about offending my dad’s associates.”

“Do not blame yourself,” he says vehemently, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t need to protect yourself; that’s what I’m here for.”

“Why are we arguing?” I ask, smiling widely now. “We can both agree that the drunk guy is the one at fault, that you are my protector, and that we’re both happy you rescued me.”

He looks at me for a long moment before sighing and shaking his head. He pulls his hand back, and I miss the contact instantly.

“Very well. We can agree on that.”

Silence falls again. It’s comfortable between us.

I pull Jake’s blazer tighter around me, conscious that I’ll have to give it back soon.

It dawns on me that I’m enjoying myself more in this room with him, despite what has just happened, than I have all evening.

~Why is that?~

“If I tell you something, do you promise not to laugh?”

His question takes me by surprise. His wording already has me smiling.

“I can’t promise anything, but go on. Tell me.”

Jake looks uncertain for a moment before he mutters something under his breath that I don’t catch. His eyes are softer tonight, more of a sky blue than an ice blue.

“My first name isn’t Jake; that’s my middle name,” he admits after a beat. “My name is actually Griffith.”

I blink, not saying anything. I don’t know what I was expecting him to say.

This is so unlike him. He rarely makes conversation and even more rarely offers information about himself, especially something this personal.

“Griffith?” I repeat.

He grimaces and nods.

“I’ve always gone by Jake, just seemed easier. Griffith wasn’t exactly a ‘cool’ name at school.”

“Why are you telling me this? Would you prefer I call you Griffith or Jake?” I ask, intrigued.

“You can call me Griffith, or Griff, but ~only~ when we’re alone. Deal?”

I grin at him, pleased that we’re making headway on our friendship.

“Deal.”

“Tell me something about you now,” he says suddenly.

I notice that his cheekbones are slightly pink again.

“Well, what do you want to know? I imagine you did some research on my family before you came here.”

“I did. You and Faisal are twins. You’re from Bahrain.”

I nod. “Yeah. We were born and raised here in London, but we visit Bahrain every year to see family.”

“And it’s just the three of you?”

It’s a delicate way of asking about my mother, who he no doubt found out has passed away.

“Our mum died when we were fifteen. It will be the ten-year anniversary next year.” My voice cracks slightly. “What about you? Do you have any family?”

His eyes harden, and I feel him putting distance between us again.

“I don’t like to talk about my family,” he replies gruffly. “But my parents died when I was a child. I was raised by my grandparents and foster families.”

“Oh, Griff,” I whisper.

The words ~I’m sorry~ are on the tip of my tongue, but he strikes me as the kind of man who doesn’t want to hear that from me.

He suddenly gets to his feet, and I know then that our moment is over. I reluctantly get up too, wincing as my heels resume torturing my feet.

“Would you like to leave now?”

I slide his jacket off my shoulders and hold it out for him. He shakes his head.

“You can wear it; I don’t mind. I don’t want you to be cold.”

“No, it’s okay. It will only cause talk if my father sees it,” I tell him.

He nods stiffly and shrugs it back on.

“Besides, it looks five times better on you,” I tell him with a wry smile.

He smirks at me. “Just five times?”

My mouth opens in shock.

“Griffith Jake Huxley, are you actually having fun with me for once?”

His eyes narrow, but the smirk remains.

“Who said I was having fun?”

“Oh, screw you,” I mutter playfully. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’m so over this party.”

Griff helps me down the stairs, holding my arm the whole way. The SUV is brought around, and he lets me sit in the front passenger seat on the way home.

I sneak glances at him as he drives. When I look away, I feel his eyes on me too. There’s this spark between us, this attraction we’re both working hard to ignore.

If we can keep denying it, I think we’re going to have a good friendship.

But that’s a big “if.”