Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
“Zia, enough work!” his father yells from the head of the dining table. “Come eat.”
I spent most of my afternoon with his father, who, despite his imposing appearance and name, is so kind. We played chess, and then he told me stories of Zia’s childhood. He definitely interrogated me, but it was fun. He cares a lot about Zia.
“Father,” Zia greets before turning to his phone as he strides into the room. “Keep me updated.”
“Everything okay?” his father asks as Zia sits on his other side.
“Of course.” Zia places a napkin on his lap, so I copy him as I look at the multiple knives and forks in confusion. Why are there so many?
“Liar,” his father scoffs. “Son, I ran this business for—”
“Forty years, I know.” Zia smiles as he takes his father’s wine away and pours him water, pushing that at him instead. “Now let me run it for you. This isn’t anything I can’t handle, but I promise if I get stuck, I will discuss it with you. Let’s eat. You were waiting for me, correct?”
His father reluctantly agrees, and Zia’s eyes land on me. “Did you take your medication?”
“I don’t need pain meds,” I grumble as I glance from the forks to him.
His eyes narrow and he lifts his hand, a guard hurrying his way. “Yes, sir?”
“Please bring me Nikko’s medication.”
“Yes, sir.” He rushes away.
“I’m fine—”
“You will take them or you will go back to the hospital. End of discussion,” Zia snaps.
I sigh. “Fine.”
The meds are swiftly brought to me, and I down them with some water. Zia nods happily, and I sit taller under his approval.
The first dish is served, and I blink at the workers who come and go quickly and discreetly. So this is how Zia grew up. I definitely can’t give him this. I wonder if he prefers it over eating takeaway pizza on my sofa.
Has anyone ever asked him?
I stare down at the food. It looks incredible, but once again, I’m confused about where to begin. I don’t want to embarrass myself or Zia in front of his father. He’s important to Zia, and I need his approval since I plan on keeping his son.
“What’s wrong? Don’t like this? I can request something else,” his father asks, his eyes on me.
“Ah, no, sir. I am sorry. I’m just—” I rub my head. “I don’t have a fucking clue which fork to use. Excuse my language.”
His father stares at me for a moment before bursting into laughter so hard his face turns red.
I spare Zia a look, hoping I haven’t embarrassed him, as his father continues to chuckle.
“Oh, Nikko, you’re so refreshing. Don’t worry, just eat with whatever.
It doesn’t matter to us. In fact . . .” He turns to a server.
“Please remove all settings bar one knife and fork.” They hurry to do that, and then he smiles at me. “Eat, you will need it to heal.”
I dig into the food, groaning at the flavor. It’s good. Zia eats more delicately than I do, and he and his father discuss some contracts that go right over my head.
As I watch him and his father speak, our conversation from this afternoon floods back to me.
We were walking in the garden, something his doctor apparently advised. “Don’t tell my son,” he whispered as we rounded a fountain. He took a seat and pulled out a beer, handing me one.
My eyes widened, but I took it and popped it open, not wanting to insult him. He sighed as he took a sip and leaned back. “I love my son, but he would keep me in a bubble if he could. He’s determined to keep me alive for as long as he can.”
“He loves you.”
“He does.” His father smiled. “He’s an incredible kid. I love my son very much.” His eyes landed on me. “Very much, do you understand?”
“I do,” I murmured.
“Good, I let one fool hurt him once, but I will not let it happen again,” he warned.
“I will never hurt your son. I will swear a blood oath if you want,” I responded as I put my beer down. “In fact, I intend to love and marry him.” His eyes widened. “I plan to spend the rest of my life with him.”
“He’s different after Faiz. He might not like it,” he cautioned, watching me.
“I don’t give up easily, and he’s worth it. I’m willing to work for his heart, but I will not give up on him, even if you want me to. I apologize if that offends you, but I love your son, and I’m not going anywhere.”
His smile was slow, but he tapped his beer to mine. “Good, keep that fire. You’ll need it to go up against him. I raised a fighter.”
“I would happily lose to him. The second and only other loss I will have.”
“What was the first?”
“A man cheated to win a boxing match. Your son made him pay,” I admitted.
“Good. I think you are exactly what Zia needs—someone willing to make him happy, someone real. This life . . .” He looked around.
“All I ever wanted was for my family to be safe and taken care of. I never expected it to turn out like this. I worry my lifestyle has affected him, that he will never have normalcy. For a while, he seemed happy with Faiz, but it didn’t last. I want my son to be happy.
I want him to have a good life. Promise me you’ll give him everything he deserves.
Promise me you’ll stand at his side, even when things are hard. ”
“I promise,” I murmured. “I’m not going anywhere, no matter what happens.”
His dad grinned and reached under his shirt, lifting out a necklace and offering it to me.
I caught it, confused. There were two rings dangling from it—a diamond one and a simple band.
“My and my wife’s rings. I always told myself I would give them to whoever deserves my son.
Faiz never did. I’m trusting you, Nikko, with my son’s heart and happiness.
When I’m gone, it will be up to you. I won’t live much longer, so I am glad I get to see him happy.
I’m glad I get to see the man who will take care of him when I’m gone. ”
“I worry I’m not good enough for him. I’m not used to this life,” I shared, not wanting to lie to his father, especially as I stared at the rings that mean a lot to both of them.
“He needs a partner, but that doesn’t mean you need to understand everything.
You don’t need to be a businessman or born with a silver spoon to be that, just someone who’s willing to walk by his side no matter how hard life gets,” his father responded.
“If my son brought you home, Nikko, then he thinks you’re good enough, and that’s enough for me. ”
Gripping the necklace tightly, I stared at his father in shock and understanding as he looked out at his garden. “I can die in peace now, but don’t worry, not too soon. I want to see you make an honest man of my son first. Come on, we better head back before he finds us.”
My hand presses to the necklace hidden behind my shirt, knowing I will give him the ring one day and beg him to marry me. As I stare at Zia across the table, I know no matter what happens, I want him to be my family more than anything.
“Goodnight, Nikko,” Zia says as he hesitates at my door. I’m in the room across from him, my bags placed there as if to make sure I stay.
“Can’t I stay with you?” I know I’m whining, and his smile is cute as he watches me.
“No, you need to rest, and we both know if you stay in my bed, you won’t,” he scoffs.
“But I can’t sleep without you,” I admit softly.
“Then I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He steps past me and climbs into the bed, patting the other side. Happy I won at least that much, I pad over and slide in next to him. He’s in monogrammed silk pajamas and looks incredible, so I tug him into my arms.
“You will?” I ask.
“Of course, and I’m just across the hall,” he assures me as he strokes my chest. “Sleep, you need as much as you can get.”
As if summoned by him, a yawn splits my lips. “I like your dad. He’s funny. It’s obvious he loves you a lot.”
“He does. He tried to become both my mother and father since we lost her. He always did the best he could by me.” He goes quiet for a moment. “He likes you. He never let Faiz in like that. Hell, he never even let Faiz stay here.”
“Why does that make me pettily happy?” I tease as I kiss his head and close my eyes.
The next thing I know, I’m waking up and it’s dark.
The comforter is tucked around me. For a moment, my heart pounds in panic before I remember that Zia’s just across the hall.
I won’t be able to sleep now, though, so I think of a devious plan to sneak into his bed and hold him.
He won’t kick me out. For all his bravado, he likes it too.
I head to the door and turn the ornate handle, monogrammed with his family initial, only to freeze when it doesn’t twist. I tug on it and yank, but it doesn’t budge.
Is it locked?
I pull harder, hurting my shoulder, but panic sets in, old fears clawing up my back. The darkness seems to close in around me, their taunting laughter finding me even years later.
My fists slam against the door until they start to bleed as I struggle to breathe. It’s yanked open from the other side, revealing Zia haloed by the hallway light, and I fall into his arms.
“What’s wrong?” Zia asks, gripping my shoulders. “Nikko, talk to me.”
I wheeze through the panic, shame filling me. “I’m okay.”
“You aren’t.” He presses my hand against his chest. “Breathe with me. That’s it, in and out.”
I copy the slow rise and fall of his chest until I’m calm, and then I’m unable to meet his eyes. “Sorry.”
“Come on.” He helps me to my feet and leads me to his room. I barely look around. I’m winded and exhausted as he guides me to a huge bed and helps me into it. He slides in next to me, sitting up as I curl against his side. Zia’s hand strokes my back and hair. “What happened?” he asks.
“The door was locked,” I whisper, shame gripping me as I hide my raw knuckles.
“Okay.” I hear the confusion in his voice.
“When I was a kid, I was bullied,” I tell him.
“Before I got strong. At first, I didn’t understand what was happening.
I thought they were my friends until they started to lock me in closets.
One time, I was locked inside the school overnight, unable to get out.
It kind of messed me up, and I hate being locked in places.
I’m sorry. I haven’t had a reaction like that in a while. ”
“You don’t ever have to apologize.” He lifts my head, running his eyes over me.
“Not to me. They should be the ones apologizing to you.” I lay my head down, and his hand soothes over my back.
“I’m sorry, Nikko. They lock the doors to give us a precious few seconds to reach for a weapon in case of an attack. It wasn’t personal.”
“I’m okay now,” I murmur as I tug him closer and sigh, closing my eyes again now that he’s here.
“What were their names?” he asks softly.
“Who?” I ask sleepily, my words slurred.
“Those who did it,” he replies quietly.
“Why?” I murmur.
“I’m just curious,” he answers and waits. I don’t see the harm, so I tell him their first names before I fall asleep, the exhaustion kicking my ass.