Chapter 6 - Sayid
Nora has been buried in her study materials for almost an hour now, the weight of her exam clearly heavy on her mind. I admire her focus—her ability to shut the world out.
I watch intensely as Nora’s fingers hover over the pages, trying to absorb as much as she can. Her mind is sharp, and determined. This test is the last thing she needs to reach her career dreams.
Her focus is broken by the growing laughter coming from the bridal party's table. Nora glances over her shoulder, and I capture her attention, pulling her eyes to meet mine. Her gaze holds so much intrigue, and my body heats in response. I want to be closer to her, but don't want to disrupt her studies any more than they already are.
“What a loser, how lame would it be to be reading in a place like this.” I can see Nora’s spine stiffen, she can hear every word they are saying. But she doesn't respond, she keeps her focus on her notes.
“Right? Always buried in her books, no wonder I've never seen her with a man.” She doesn’t seem to care that the room has shifted to make her the subject of not so quiet mockery. She’s lost in her world—her work, her studies. There’s a strength in her that the others fail to see, a quiet strength that I am drawn to.
“How pathetic it must be to watch your best friend get married to someone else.” She flips a page in her book, trying to focus on the medical terminology in front of her as their laughter continues.
“No, she is desperate, she was just eyeing Sayid.” My jaw tightens at the mention of my name.
Another woman scoffs in return. “Please. A man like that wouldn’t even look at a simple girl like her. Between the books and the need to be one of the boys, no man in this room would ever be interested in her.”
The urge to protect Nora surges to the surface, I'm no longer able to fight it. I rise, and leave my private area. The women are oblivious to my approach as they continue their ugly gossip.
“Fascinating.” The women turn towards me, eyes widening as I step in front of their table. My voice cuts through their laughter, exuding quiet authority. “How little one must have in their own life to find such joy in belittling another.”
The group quiets, shocked by the interruption. I don’t wait for a response. My eyes focus back on Nora as I walk away from the group and towards her. Her body shifts, she is aware of my approach.
“You study the human body, yes?”
Nora turns to face me, a bit surprised at my question, she only nods in response.
“Then surely you understand that small minds will always fixate on what they cannot comprehend.” I make sure to say these words without breaking my composure, but with enough volume that I can be heard by the women behind us.
A palpable hush falls over the lounge.
Nora exhales, the noticeable tension in her shoulders loosening slightly. She meets my gaze, and for a moment, I think we both forget to breathe.
"I hope I am not disturbing your studies." She looks up, her bright green eyes blinking in surprise. She did not expect me. She does not expect my interest.
"Oh—no. It’s fine. I was just reviewing notes." She taps her pen against the open page, eyes flickering back to the medical texts and her notes. I can't help but notice that her notes are not only organized, but also she has drawn detailed representations for each structure.
I gesture to the seat beside her, waiting. She hesitates for only a second before nodding and closing her book.
Lowering myself into the chair, I adjust my cufflink. Her scent lingers between us, it's even more intoxicating than the last time. I lean forward slightly, eying her materials further. "You are a neonatal nurse." It wasn’t a question.
She blinks, surprised that I know. "Yes, I am actually just about to finish my final certifications for the NICU.”
"A noble field. It requires a great deal of intelligence, patience, and a gentle touch." I glance at her hands. They are steady, soft, and capable hands. I control myself from imaging just where I want to feel those hands.
She shrugs, a small smile playing at her lips. "It’s not patience so much as… instinct. You have to know when to act and when to wait and observe. When to push and when to let things be."
I can sense there is more than one meaning behind her words. I turn my glass slowly between my fingers. "I imagine you have learned that lesson beyond your profession."
She exhales softly, fingers brushing the edge of her book. "I suppose we all learn things through experience."
Experience. A neutral word. A safe word. She is not yet willing to share more. It pains me to see up close, just how guarded she truly is. Tyson’s unwelcome touch from earlier lingers in my mind.
I want to press further. To tell her I already know. That she is not alone. But I cannot overwhelm her, she is not ready for my truth. Instead, I shift, leaning back. "Tell me, Nora—do you often take insults in silence?" I take a long drawn out sip from my glass.
Her lips part slightly, caught off guard. "I—what?"
I tilt my head toward where the women had been sitting. "They spoke of you as though you are not worthy. You did not correct them."
She exhales sharply, shaking her head. "Putting any of my energy into them is not worth my time. They can believe what they want."
"That does not make it right." My voice is softer now. Measured.
She meets my gaze, searching. Her brow furrows slightly with curiosity. "Why does it matter to you?"
I let the silence stretch. I must be careful. I cannot let her see the depth of my thoughts, the way she has occupied my mind for far longer than she realizes. "Because I do not tolerate cruelty toward those who have pure intentions."
Her expression shifts, just slightly, as if my words have struck something deep within her. She looks down for a moment, then back at me. "You say that as if you know me."
"Perhaps I do."
Her brow furrows again, in the most adorable way. I can tell she is resisting the urge to press further. Instead, she leans back slightly, arms crossing as she tilts her head. "Well Mr. Hassan, I know you’re generous."
Her formality in using my last name catches me off guard at how easily it slides off her tongue, like she's said it a thousand times already. I arch a brow. "Am I?"
She nods. "You paid for all of the wedding guests to stay here. You sent drinks throughout the day. And somehow, every one of mine was exactly what I would have chosen myself."
I take a sip of my drink. "A coincidence, perhaps."
She huffs a soft laugh, shaking her head. "I don’t believe in coincidences."
Smart girl. I set my glass down. "Tell me, Nora—do you think I extended that generosity to everyone?" I almost regret the question as it leaves my lips. Am I giving too much away?
She stills slightly as she hesitates. Her bright green eyes wide, filled with uncertainty. She looks as if she is fighting an internal struggle, just as I am. Her lips part as if to answer, but she hesitates at first. “No,” she whispers so softly even I can barely hear it.
I lean in slightly, wanting to be just as quiet. “You are correct, I didn’t." Her breath hitches, and her throat bobs in a noticeable quiet swallow. For the first time, I see the uncertainty in her eyes start to dissipate, as realization starts to take its place.
“You fascinate me, Nora.” Another confession.
“Why?” She responds quickly. As if in an automatic defense or denial.
I let a slight smile spread to the corner of my lips. “Must there be a singular reason?” I lean back, watching her, tracing the lines of her face with my gaze. My eyes land on her soft lips. "I have been to many places. Met many people. Few hold my interest. Fewer command my respect. And yet…" I exhale, slowly. "You do."
She shifts, unsure of herself. I know she is struggling whether to accept the compliment or rebuke it. I tilt my head slightly before continuing. "I saw it today, during the game. The way you fought for every play. Your drive, your resilience." I pause for just a moment. “And I saw your reaction when he touched you.”
Her posture stiffens. Tyson. Even his name is so vile in my mouth, I can’t bear to speak it to her. She quickly shakes her head. "It was nothing. Just—"
"No." My voice cuts in a bit more firmly than I had intended. "It was not nothing." I say softening my tone a bit. She holds my gaze, her throat bobbing with another deliberate, observable swallow.
I lean in close enough to see the faint tremor in her fingers where they rest on the book. Not fear. Perhaps something she does not fully understand yet. I lower my voice. "You do not have to explain anything to me. But know this—I saw. And I will not let it happen again."
Before I realize what I am doing, I reach out and gently brush the back of her knuckles that are gripping her book, with the tips of my fingers. She exhales slowly, some tension leaving her shoulders. But a fire burns through me, and I pull my hand away.
She studies me a moment as her expression shifts. "Zahir has mentioned that you don’t usually attend social events like these."
I nod. "I don't."
Her demeanor shifts even further, loosening up. "But you came. You could have just displayed your generosity as a wedding gift. But you’re here." So smart. I can see the questions burning in her eyes and she tries to process further.
Before I can respond, she continues, “He talks about you a lot, you know."
My brow lifts. "Does he?"
She nods. "He respects you. Adores you, even. Says you’re the most controlled man he’s ever known."
A smirk pulls at my lips. "He exaggerates." But the truth is, they both don’t even know the half of it.
She studies me for a long moment before speaking again. "I don’t think he is one to exaggerate things that hold this type of importance.”
I watch her, considering my next words carefully. Can I get away with another admission? "I have heard stories of you."
Her brows furrow. "Stories?"
I lift my glass, turning it idly in my fingers. "From Zahir. From Liam. And of course... there was the yacht." Her entire body stills. I see it in her face—the ghost of something she thought she had buried deep.
I want to reach out and comfort her as I tell her everything. But I can’t push further, not yet. I need to leave before I go too far, too soon. I set my drink down and rise to my feet. "We both have a wedding to attend tomorrow, and you need your rest."
She exhales, still holding my gaze. I sense she has more questions, but she does not ask them. I give her one final lingering look. "Goodnight, Nora." And then, I walk away.
I quickly move to my private exit, and head straight to the elevator. The perks of staying in a hotel you own, is that you have access to more areas than anyone else. I can quickly ascend to my suite without anyone disturbing me.
As I exit my private elevator, walking directly into the emptiness of my suite, I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders. My body is still thrumming with the effort of my restraint.
She was almost too close. Her scent still lingers, intoxicating in its softness. The warmth of her gaze, the way she listened—really listened.
As my restraint dissipates, I let my arousal take control. Nora in person is more than I had ever imagined. My thoughts and dreams of her don't do her any justice. She is intelligent, cautious, and extraordinarily kind . And yet, she doesn't know her own value.
I want her to know the wealth of her worth she truly has. Even more deeply, I just want her. I want her to be mine in so many ways. But, she must come to me on her own. I will not obtain possession of her without her consent. I will not be like him. I will earn her trust.
I rake a hand through my hair, pacing to the window, staring out at the city lights. Hopefully she is back in her room, and resting for tomorrow’s wedding. All I can think about is the fact that she is only a few doors down. The temptation to walk down the hall, to knock, to see if she is still awake gnaws at me.
It is not just a temptation to check on her. It's the temptation to touch her. My cock grows harder. I inhale sharply, shutting my eyes. I want to feel every inch of her pressed against me. I let out a slow exhale, and stop any further degrading sexual thoughts I am having about her. Control.
Instead, I turn, striding toward the desk. I pick up my phone, pressing a single button. I don’t want her to feel like she is alone for one second tomorrow. A voice answers immediately.
"Yes, sir?"
"Have a dress sent to Miss Stevens room in the morning. Dark emerald. Something elegant.” I pause for just a moment. “And make sure it fits her perfectly."
"Understood."
I hang up, exhaling slowly. If I cannot go to her tonight, or accompany her at the wedding, I will ensure I am with her in another way. She will wear my color. And when she is ready—when she wants me as much as I already want her—I will have her.