CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“The first kiss.”
Three days passed before Zara saw Malik again.
Not because either of them wanted the distance.
Life simply got in the way.
Bellamy & Co. was preparing for three events in the same week.
Camille barely sat down.
Naomi survived almost entirely on coffee.
Zara couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten lunch before four o'clock.
Every evening her phone buzzed.
Malik: How's your day?
Zara: Busy.
Malik: Eating properly?
Zara: Eventually.
Malik: That's not an answer.
She smiled every time.
She tried not to.
She failed every time.
Thursday evening finally brought a rare break.
Camille walked through the office, clapping her hands once.
"Everyone go home."
Nobody moved.
"I'm serious."
A coordinator looked up from her laptop.
"The seating chart—"
"Can wait until tomorrow."
"The florist—"
"Will still be there tomorrow."
Camille looked directly at Zara.
"You especially."
"I've nearly finished."
"You've nearly overworked yourself."
There wasn't much point arguing.
Twenty minutes later, Zara stepped out onto the Manhattan pavement carrying her handbag and laptop.
The sky glowed orange as the sun dipped behind the buildings.
Her phone buzzed.
Malik: Look across the street.
She frowned.
Then looked up.
Malik leaned against his Range Rover outside a small park, one hand tucked into his coat pocket.
He smiled when their eyes met.
She crossed the street, trying very hard not to smile back.
"What are you doing here?"
"I kidnapped you."
"I don't remember agreeing to that."
"I've noticed."
He opened the passenger door.
"But I brought food."
She laughed.
"You think food fixes everything?"
"No."
He grinned.
"I just know you forget to eat."
Instead of a restaurant, Malik drove them to Brooklyn Bridge Park.
The evening air was cool.
People sat on benches watching ferries cross the East River.
Children chased pigeons across the grass.
The Manhattan skyline shimmered as thousands of lights slowly came alive.
Malik spread a blanket beneath a large tree.
"You planned this?"
"A little."
He unpacked two takeaway containers from a local Caribbean restaurant.
Jerk chicken.
Rice and peas.
Plantain.
Festival.
"You remembered my favourite."
"You've mentioned it three times."
"I have not."
"You absolutely have."
She shook her head.
"You pay far too much attention."
"I like paying attention."
The words settled gently between them.
For a while they simply ate.
No heavy conversations.
No questions.
Just comfortable silence.
Eventually Zara looked out across the river.
"When I first got here..."
"I used to sit alone most evenings."
"Here?"
"No."
"Fire escape."
She smiled.
"I'd watch the skyline and wonder if I'd made the biggest mistake of my life."
"And now?"
She looked around the park.
Families laughed nearby.
Music drifted from someone's portable speaker.
Malik sat beside her looking completely at peace.
"Now..."
She smiled.
"...I think it might've been the best decision I've ever made."
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead he asked quietly,
"Because of New York?"
She looked at him.
"Partly."
"And the other part?"
She laughed softly.
"You ask difficult questions."
"I wait for honest answers."
The sun disappeared completely.
City lights reflected across the water like scattered stars.
Malik broke the silence.
"I owe you something."
"You don't owe me anything."
"I do."
He looked down at his hands.
"When I was twenty-two..."
"I thought respect came from fear."
She listened.
"I thought money solved every problem."
"I thought being the toughest man in the room meant I'd never get hurt."
He smiled bitterly.
"I was wrong about all of it."
He told her about prison.
Not every detail.
Just enough.
The loneliness.
The regret.
His mother's visits.
The day she told him,
"If you come out the same man you went in... I've lost my son anyway."
"That changed everything," he admitted.
"I promised her I'd never go back."
"You kept your promise."
"So far."
She looked at him carefully.
"That's why Devon scares you."
He nodded once.
"Not because I want that life."
"But because I know exactly how easy it is to lose everything you've built."
She reached across the blanket without thinking.
Her hand rested gently over his.
He looked down.
Then back at her.
"I don't think you're that man anymore."
His throat tightened.
"You don't?"
"No."
"I think..."
She smiled softly.
"...you're afraid of becoming him again."
Malik stared at her.
No one had understood him that quickly before.
They remained like that for several moments.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them spoke.
The sounds of the city faded into the background.
"You know..." Malik said quietly.
"What?"
"I've wanted to kiss you since the day you dropped those place cards."
Zara laughed.
"You picked a strange moment."
"I know."
"I've got terrible timing."
She looked into his eyes.
"So why haven't you?"
"Because I wanted the first time to happen when you felt safe."
Her heart almost stopped.
Nobody had ever spoken to her like that.
Nobody had ever cared whether she felt safe.
She whispered,
"I do."
Malik searched her face.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"I'm sure."
Slowly...
Carefully...
He lifted one hand to her cheek.
His touch was gentle enough that she could have stepped away.
She didn't.
Their foreheads rested together for a brief second.
Neither rushed.
Neither hurried the moment.
Then Malik closed the distance.
The kiss was soft.
Tentative.
Almost questioning.
It wasn't dramatic.
It wasn't desperate.
It was two people discovering what hope felt like.
When they finally pulled apart, neither of them spoke.
Zara smiled first.
"So..."
Malik smiled back.
"So."
"I think..."
She laughed quietly.
"...that definitely wasn't a friendship kiss."
"No."
He laughed too.
"It definitely wasn't."
As Malik drove Zara home later that evening, neither could stop smiling.
Outside Miss Claudette's brownstone, he walked her to the steps.
"I had a really good night."
"So did I."
He hesitated.
"I don't want to rush you."
"I know."
"I know you've been through a lot."
She nodded.
"And I know you have too."
They stood beneath the porch light for another quiet moment.
Then Zara leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
A small kiss.
Barely more than a whisper.
But it left Malik speechless.
"Goodnight," she said.
Before he could answer, she disappeared inside.
From the upstairs window, Miss Claudette watched the Range Rover remain parked outside for almost a minute before slowly pulling away.
She smiled to herself.
Downstairs, Zara leaned against the closed front door, touching her fingertips to her lips.
She had come to New York looking for freedom.
She hadn't expected to find someone who made freedom feel like home.
Across town, Malik unlocked the door to his apartment.
His phone buzzed before he could switch on the lights.
An unknown number.
He frowned.
Then opened the message.
You look happy.
That usually means you've forgotten who you are.
There was no signature.
There didn't need to be.
Malik knew exactly who had sent it.
His smile faded.
Outside his apartment window, the lights of Brooklyn sparkled as if nothing had changed.
But Malik knew better.
Because just as he had finally allowed himself to hope for something real with Zara...
His past had reminded him it was still watching.