Chapter 23 Zahra
ZAHRA
“Iordered twenty yards of silk in mulberry, not periwinkle. I’m going to murder someone!” Samirah screams, tossing the pastel purple fabric on the floor.
“Mmm, maybe it’s time to take some deep breaths.
Killing people is more of my forte.” I take in her disheveled appearance, from the loose bun on her head, to the lopsided way her glasses sit on her face and the way she keeps frantically sketching in her notepad.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Samirah so frazzled.
“Don’t you start! The whole reason why I’m like this is because of you.” She points her pencil at me, and for a moment, I really think she might stab me.
“What the hell did I do?” I shrug.
“What did you do? How about the fact that you gave me less than two weeks' notice that you were going to get married, and that it was going to be one of the largest events this side of the country has ever seen? A million-dollar budget—"
“Technically, our budget is ten million dollars,” I tease.
“Jesus Christ. Ten million dollars and you had initially told me to just order cotton. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Samirah tsks.
“A dress is a dress.” I shrug.
Samariah shoots daggers at me. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that to me of all people. Especially given that I still have to make your wedding dress. I’d consider staying on my good side, or else I’ll have you walking down the aisle looking like a pom-pom.”
“Well, she’d be the most beautiful pom-pom on this side of the Charles River so I guess she has that going for her.” Declan’s deep voice fills the room, sending an electric trickle down my spine.
I turn around and look up, meeting his gaze. “What are you doing here?”
It’s been just over a week since the warehouse incident, which was followed by my concussed impromptu therapy session with Declan.
He continued to insist on nursing me back to health, though he did compromise by letting me heal in the comfort of my own home.
Declan had finally returned to his manor a few days ago once my doctor gave me the all-clear, and I’d figured he’d want to spend as much time alone as possible, given we’d be living together very soon.
“Samirah called me in for my tux fitting.” He smiles, giving Samirah a small wave. “How’s your head?”
“Well, I haven’t had any complaints yet, so.”
Declan’s eyes widened. “I, uh… That’s good to know.”
“That’s it? No laugh. Or even a small smile. Life’s too short not to enjoy a little sexual innuendo.” I place my hands on my hips.
Declan raises an eyebrow at me. “Sorry, I guess I didn’t realize we had moved into the ‘dick-jokes’ stage of our relationship.”
“Well, we are getting married soon, so what better time than now to show you I have the same humor as a prepubescent twelve-year-old boy.”
Samirah struts back into the room, garment bag in tow. “She’s being serious too. Her sense of humor ranges from something that would make a middle schooler pee his pants to incredibly unfunny dad jokes. I recommend not entertaining her. It only makes it worse.”
I throw my hands up in mock offense. “That’s rude! Maybe Declan was looking forward to hearing my stand-up comedian bit.”
Samirah raises an eyebrow. “Declan, on a scale of one to ten, how much do you want to hear another hilarious joke from your fiancée?”
“Mmm, I think if I want her to stay my fiancée, I should just shut my mouth and go try on my tux.”
“Hey!”
Declan gives me a wink before taking the garment bag from Samirah and walking into the bathroom to change.
Samirah leans closer to me while we wait for him to return. “Just so you know, I also ordered some lace lingerie that should arrive right in time for your wedding. They’re couture, so for my own sanity, try to stop him from tearing them up. It would be such a waste of craftsmanship.”
My palms start to sweat. “Um, there will be no need to worry about lingerie being ripped apart because there is a zero percent chance that Declan will be seeing me in my underwear soon.”
“Well, that’s just a waste. What good is marrying a man that is attractive if you don’t get to enjoy some of the benefits?”
“I’m marrying him so we can get the benefit of removing his deranged uncle from power.”
“So you’re telling me there’s not even a small part of you that wants to get some…additional benefits that come with being with Declan?”
“Well, I have my own money and my vibrator works just fine, so…plus we need to keep this professional. That way, none of our feelings are hurt once we evidently get divorced.”
“Gah. I think you’re strong enough to separate feelings from sex. You’ve done it before.”
Normally, I’d agree with her, but after the night we spent together where we let our guards down around each other, I’m so sure.
I’d like to blame uncharacteristic vulnerability on being concussed, but the truth of the matter is, I felt pulled to Declan.
That’s the only explanation I’d manage to come up with for why I found myself looking forward to his texts asking how my day was, or why I asked to schedule several impromptu meetings to ‘strategize’, only for us to spend most of the time decompressing about the weight of it all.
The past few weeks, I’ve learned to lean on Declan in a way I never thought I’d lean on someone.
And that reality comforts me as much as it scares me.
Our families would always be allied, and frankly, we needed this relationship to maintain its strength for both of our organizations.
Friendships were fine but complicating that relationship by making it something more is a risk I can’t and won’t take.
Everything I’ve ever done is to ensure that my legacy and my family’s legacy would be maintained.
I wouldn’t jeopardize that by crossing the line with Declan.
“Declan and I are allies. I’m willing to say we’ve evolved into friends, but that’s it. Sure, I may have grown to recently enjoy his company, but our business relationship is entirely too important for me to jeopardize it.” I cross my arms on my chest, standing firm.
“Well, you’re much better than I am because if my fiancé looked that good in a suit, nothing would stop me from claiming him forever.” Samirah nods her head to the topic of our conversation, and my mouth goes dry.
The white sleeves of Declan’s shirt are rolled up to his elbows, showing off the intricate knotted tattoo on his forearm and the prominent veins and muscles underneath.
He’s opted to leave the top of his shirt unbuttoned, enough for me to see a hint of his collarbone.
I’d always thought men wearing suspenders looked overly pretentious, but on him they’re nothing short of perfection.
My palms start to sweat at the thought of me using those suspenders to tug him closer and closer to me.
The way I’d undo the rest of the buttons of his shirt as he rips off my dress.
How I’d beg him to use the same suspenders to tie me up, leaving me at his mercy to do whatever he wanted… .
“So how do I look?” Declan’s deep voice brings me back to reality, smirking as he catches me staring. He brings his hands up to his collar and flexes it slightly, practically putting on a show for me. “Do you approve?”
I not-so-subtly drag my palms down my pants, struggling to maintain my composure as if I didn’t just have one of the filthiest daydreams about this man, who is also my fiancé. Your fiancé, for business purposes only, Zahra. “Yeah, it looks fine to me.” I shrug, hoping it comes off as casual.
“Don’t insult my work.” Samirah clicks her tongue, waving me off. “Declan, you look incredible. How does the fit feel?”
“Pretty good. The pants might be a little tight though?” He spins around to give her the full view, and I try my best not to look at the bulge in the center of his pants.
“You’re right. I think I can add a little bit more to the waist to give you some breathing room. We can always use a belt to adjust.” Samirah takes the measuring tape wrapped around her neck and places it around his waist.
“Are you free now for lunch?” Declan asks me.
“She sure is,” Samirah responds, shifting Declan around as she diligently marks the changes she needs to make to his suit.
I give her a quick glare before redirecting my attention to Declan. “I should have some time if you don’t mind me updating you on some progress with the vultures.”
His expression tightens as he nods and heads back into the changing room to switch into his day clothes.
“Might I recommend you meet somewhere private in case the tension decides to snap?” Samirah teases.
“No tension will be snapping. We’re adults who can handle being alone in a room together. I’ll have lunch sent to my office. Can you tell him to meet me there?”
She rolls her eyes and waves me off. “God, you’re no fun.
Mark my words, Zahra, you can’t keep depriving yourself of your needs forever.
One day, you’re going to take what you want.
Not because it’s for the good of your family or the good of the Persian Empire, but because it’s what you need and I can’t wait to see it. ”