CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
“The surprise.”
By Thursday afternoon, Zara had almost forgotten about Malik's mysterious surprise.
Almost.
She was halfway through reviewing table layouts when her phone buzzed.
Malik: Don't make plans for tonight.
She smiled.
Zara: Bossy.
His reply came almost instantly.
Malik: Prepared.
She shook her head, laughing to herself.
Naomi looked up from across the office.
"There it is."
"What?"
"The smile."
"I smiled?"
"You've smiled every time your phone has gone off this week."
Zara looked back at her laptop.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Naomi pointed dramatically.
"Liar."
Camille walked past carrying a folder.
"Whatever he's doing..."
She glanced at Zara with a knowing smile.
"...he's doing it well."
At exactly seven o'clock, Malik knocked on the door of Miss Claudette's brownstone.
This time he wasn't carrying flowers.
He was carrying a garment bag.
Zara frowned.
"What is that?"
"Your surprise."
"I'm slightly concerned."
"You should trust me."
"I do."
She looked at the bag suspiciously.
"I'm just not sure I trust whatever's inside."
He laughed.
"Go and get changed."
Twenty minutes later, Zara walked downstairs wearing an elegant emerald-green satin dress.
It hugged her figure without being over the top, falling gracefully to just above her ankles.
She'd curled her hair loosely, and a pair of gold earrings caught the light every time she moved.
Malik looked up.
Then forgot how to breathe.
For several long seconds, he simply stared.
"What?" Zara asked, suddenly self-conscious.
He shook his head slowly.
"I don't think..."
He smiled to himself.
"...I've ever seen anything so beautiful."
Heat rose to Zara's cheeks.
"You always know what to say."
"No."
His eyes never left hers.
"I usually don't."
She laughed softly.
"You're making me nervous."
"Good."
"Why?"
"Now you know how I feel."
The drive took them across the Brooklyn Bridge and into Manhattan.
The city sparkled beneath the night sky.
"So..."
Zara looked at him.
"Where are we going?"
"If I tell you..."
"...it ruins the surprise."
"You really planned all this?"
"I've been planning it for weeks."
She looked at him in surprise.
"We've only been together a few days."
"I know."
"But I've wanted to take you here since the first time we met."
The Range Rover finally pulled up outside a historic building overlooking Central Park.
A doorman greeted Malik warmly.
"Good evening, Mr. Carter."
"Evening."
Zara looked around.
"This isn't a restaurant."
"No."
He smiled.
"It's better."
He led her inside.
Up a private lift.
Through a pair of double doors.
Then...
She stopped walking.
"Oh..."
The rooftop stretched out before them.
Hundreds of fairy lights hung above a beautifully set dinner table.
Candles flickered in glass lanterns.
A string quartet played softly in one corner.
Beyond them...
The New York skyline shimmered like something from a dream.
Her eyes widened.
"Malik..."
He watched her take it all in.
"I wanted your first proper date to feel special."
She looked at him.
"It feels impossible."
"No."
He smiled gently.
"It feels like you deserve it."
Dinner was perfect.
Not because of the food.
Not because of the view.
Because conversation came as naturally as breathing.
They laughed over embarrassing childhood stories.
Malik admitted he'd once been suspended from school for racing shopping trolleys through a supermarket car park.
"I was fourteen."
"That doesn't make it better."
"It makes it funnier."
She laughed until tears filled her eyes.
Then she shared the story of accidentally setting the church kitchen fire alarm off trying to bake cupcakes for a youth fundraiser.
"My mother wasn't impressed."
"I bet the fire brigade enjoyed the cake."
"They actually did."
Halfway through dessert, Malik became unusually quiet.
"What are you thinking?" Zara asked.
He looked out across the skyline.
"When I was younger..."
"I used to come up here."
"You did?"
He nodded.
"Not legally."
She laughed.
"That sounds more like the Malik everyone warned me about."
"It probably was."
He smiled faintly.
"I'd sit here and tell myself one day I'd own buildings like these."
"And now?"
"I've realised owning buildings isn't what makes you successful."
"What does?"
He turned towards her.
"Having someone to come home to."
The words stole the air from her lungs.
After dinner, they walked to the edge of the rooftop.
The city stretched endlessly beneath them.
Cars looked like tiny streams of light.
The autumn breeze lifted a loose curl from Zara's face.
"You know..."
Malik said quietly.
"I've never brought anyone here."
She looked surprised.
"No one?"
"No one."
"Why?"
He smiled to himself.
"I was waiting."
"For what?"
"For someone who'd appreciate the view..."
He looked into her eyes.
"...instead of the price tag."
She swallowed hard.
"You really see me, don't you?"
"I try."
"No."
She smiled softly.
"You really do."
They stood together in comfortable silence.
Eventually Zara spoke.
"Can I tell you something?"
"Always."
"I used to think love had to be difficult."
He frowned slightly.
"My parents fought constantly."
"My mother made everything feel conditional."
She looked down at the city.
"I honestly believed that's what love looked like."
"And now?"
She reached for his hand.
"I think..."
She smiled.
"...real love might actually feel peaceful."
Malik squeezed her hand gently.
"I hope so."
"Why?"
"Because that's the only kind I know how to give you."
As they left the rooftop, neither of them noticed a man sitting alone inside a parked car across the street.
He lifted a camera.
The flash remained off.
Click.
One photograph.
Malik opening the passenger door for Zara.
Click.
Another.
Zara laughing at something he'd said.
The photographer lowered the camera and sent the images to a secure number.
Within seconds, his phone rang.
"Yeah?"
Devon's voice came through clearly.
"They look happy."
"They are."
A pause.
"Good."
The photographer frowned.
"I thought you wanted Carter miserable."
"I do."
Devon's voice was calm.
"But happiness gives people something to lose."
The call ended.
When Malik dropped Zara home, neither of them rushed to get out of the car.
"I had the best night," Zara admitted.
"So did I."
She looked at him.
"No."
"You've done enough surprising me."
"It's my turn."
Before he could ask what she meant, she leaned across the centre console and kissed him.
Slowly.
Confidently.
Not because she was caught up in the romance of the evening.
But because she wanted him to know she chose him.
When she pulled away, Malik rested his forehead against hers.
"What was that for?"
She smiled.
"For planning a date that made me feel like the only woman in New York."
He laughed quietly.
"You are."
She rolled her eyes.
"That was smooth."
"It was true."
She opened the car door.
"Goodnight, Malik."
"Goodnight, Zara."
He watched until she disappeared inside the brownstone.
Only then did he drive away.
Upstairs, Zara stood at her bedroom window watching his taillights disappear into the Brooklyn night.
For the first time in her life, love didn't feel like something she had to earn.
It felt like something she was simply allowed to receive.
She had no idea that, somewhere else in the city, someone was already making plans to take that feeling away.