Chapter 39
Mariyah
I thanked the doorman who opened the passenger seat door as I climbed out of the car into the cold night air the next evening. Pinching the black shawl I’d borrowed from Katiya tighter around my shoulders, I rounded the car to Shehryar. He handed the valet lady the keys and turned to me as she climbed into the driver’s seat.
I was wearing the brown silk dress I’d worn to Kai’s birthday party with the silver bracelet I’d been gifted the previous day, and Shehryar was dressed in a tailored black suit without the tie and waistcoat. He looked handsome but far from relaxed. Standing as stiff as a rod, the tension was rolling off his shoulders in murky waves, and his expression was tight-lipped and blank.
“Are you okay?” I asked as I handed him over the little gift bag in my hand.
“I’m fine,” he said dully, wrapping his other fingers around mine.
“Shehryar.” I strengthened my grip on his hand, keeping him still. “Don’t lie to me.”
He let out a breath. “I’m not lying. I am fine. I’m not comfortable, but I’m not intimidated or scared. I’d rather not be here, but I don’t yet regret coming.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re by my side, but I can’t pretend my defences aren’t rising and making it hard to keep an open mind.”
His raw honesty pinched at my heart. “I can’t say I know exactly how you feel, but I get it,” I said. “Just remember no one has to know who you are if you don’t want them to, and this doesn’t give your father or his family any power over you.” I fiddled with the second button of his white shirt. “This is just a meeting to see if the potential for reconciliation is really there. Plus, I’ve got your back, Sheri. You best believe I won’t let any bitch-ass rich rat say shit to you.”
He scoffed, and a slight smile touched his mouth. I grinned back. Dropping his head, he pressed a firm, quick kiss to my lips. “Thank you.”
My heart did a summersault, but I shook my head. “Yeah, well, now you’ve got red lipstick on your mouth, idiot.”
I brushed my thumb across his bottom lip, rubbing the touch of red away. But as I did, his eyes took on that heavy, heated look that made my breath stutter. “What?” I managed to get out.
“I want to pause this moment and stay right here with you,” he rasped. “Pretend we don’t have to go inside or go back to our own lives tomorrow.”
My heart pounded at the base of my throat as I swallowed, blood whirling in my ears.
Fucking Neves, what was Shehryar doing to me?
He had my heart and head in the palm of his hands, and the feeling kept growing stronger so fucking quickly with every passing minute I spent with him. I liked him a lot, and as much as I wanted to claim part of it was down to five years of hating wanting him, a lot of it was just to do with how we were together now. How he was with me. His smiles, his words, his flirtatious touches. Everything.
I liked this version of us. A lot. And fuck, it was going to be hard when we parted tomorrow.
But despite what I’d said about not doing long-distance, with him, I really wanted to make it work.
“If only,” I whispered back and kissed him. “But, we’re here to do something important for you, so stop distracting me by being cute and sappy. I’m trying to get in the zone.”
He chuckled, and we stayed just like that for several more seconds before finally climbing the stairs of one of the most expensive hotels in Pavilion City hand in hand.
“Here you go,” the lady who’d escorted us from the lifts said. “We hope you enjoy Miss Ablah’s birthday party.”
“Thank you,” Shehryar and I said at the same time.
She stepped away, eyes lingering on him, as the guards outside the wooden doors opened them both. Music, colour, and laughter emanated out, and after a second, we stepped into it.
Wow. I thought this was meant to be a small gathering.
What seemed like over a hundred people, dressed in designer suits and dresses, mingled in groups, most of them young but not exclusively so, in the grand silver and cream hall that matched the historic décor of the rest of the hotel. Round tables were set around the perimeter of the room, draped in pale grey cloths, with one longer table packed full of gift bags and wrapped boxes. And right at the back were large windows draped in cream curtains and glass doors to a balcony.
“You…you came.”
An older man stepped into our periphery, and despite looking nothing like him other than a similar height and build, I knew instantly the man was Andrew Platmon—Shehryar’s dad. The way he was looking at Shehryar in awe and relief, plus the thick southern Jahandari accent, gave it away.
“Hmm,” Shehryar muttered stiffly.
Andrew Platmon opened his mouth, closed it again, and shifted on his feet. “Well…thank you. I know—I mean, I can guess it wasn’t an easy decision, but Ablah will appreciate it.”
Shehryar replied with a single nod. An awkward silence followed for several suffocating seconds before Andrew Platmon angled himself to me, forcing a smile that didn’t quite hide the uncertainty in his eyes. “Apologies. I was not ignoring you in any way.”
I was a little wary of him on Shehryar’s behalf, but I flashed him a smile. “No, it’s okay.”
“You must be Mariyah, correct?” He put out his hand.
Shehryar’s fingers tightened around mine, keeping me close, as I slipped my other palm into his dad’s hand and shook it. “Yes, I am. And you must be Mr Platmon?”
“Yes, but please call me Andrew.” His eyes darted to Shehryar. “I was glad to hear my—I mean, Shehryar was bringing a plus one. Are you two…” His gaze dipped to our hands as he drifted off.
“Yes, we are,” I said, lifting a glance to Shehryar. “As of recently.”
A slow smile spread across the older man’s thin lips. “That’s lovely to hear—”
“Dad!”
Andrew Platmon glanced over his shoulder to a tall, lithe girl in a gorgeous gold dress that complemented her olive skin tone and brown eyes just like Andrew’s. She was young and pretty in a striking way with a square jaw and thick brows, and with her figure, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she turned out to be a model. It was clear though exactly who she was.
Ablah Platmon. The birthday girl.
“Come on over,” Andrew beckoned brightly.
Ablah glanced curiously at Shehryar, stepping into her father’s open arm. “Is this who I think it is?”
“Yes. This is…” Andrew Platmon cleared his throat. “This is Shehryar. Your…brother…”
I felt Shehryar stiffen further beside me, but Ablah stepped up before him with a glowing grin. And damn, the girl was stunningly tall. In heels, she was only an inch or so shorter than Shehryar.
“Hi,” she said with a breathless sort of excitement. “Dad mentioned he invited you, but neither of us were sure you were going to come. But I’m glad you did. I’m—I’m Ablah, by the way. Which you already probably know.” She laughed nervously.
Shehryar shuffled the slightest step back as he offered her a pursed lip smile. “Hi—Ablah. I apologise for intruding on your birthday—”
“No,” she immediately said, shaking her head. “I wanted you to come. I asked Dad to invite you. I’ve always wanted to meet you. I’ve…I’ve known about you since I was little.”
A weird silence fell again before she swung to me. “Mariyah, right?”
I nodded, returning her grin. “Yep. Thank you for inviting us by the way. And happy eighteenth birthday. You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” She blushed so sweetly, and I was very quickly reminded of Esmeralda.
I had a strong feeling Shehryar saw it too, because his body relaxed against mine. Not much, but enough for me to sense it. “Happy birthday,” he muttered and lifted the gift bag. “This is for you.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to, but thank you.” She took the bag, but she wasn’t looking at it. “Really. For just…being here.”
The subtle deer in headlights look Shehryar gave her suggested he wasn’t entirely sure how to react to her excited welcoming, but with him, that was a good sign rather than a bad one.
Andrew Platmon cleared his throat, then rubbed his chin once he caught our attention. “Can I—I mean, may I—would you be comfortable with me introducing you as my…son?”
“No,” Shehryar said. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
His father’s shoulders dropped, but Ablah quickly came to the rescue. “That’s fine. I mean it is my birthday, Dad. You can’t steal my spotlight,” she jokingly said through the corner of her mouth. “We’ll introduce Shehryar and Mariyah as family friends. Is that okay?”
She looked at me, blaring a signal for assistance. “Fine with me,” I said with a smile. “Sheri?”
He nodded. “That’s fine.”
“Great,” she chimed and latched onto Shehryar’s forearm with both hands. “Okay, Dad, I’m going to steal them now so I can introduce them to Ki and Lu, and then we’ll come find you, okay?”
Andrew Platmon smiled. “Of course.”
Ablah kissed him on the cheek, then she was tugging Shehryar forward, who in turn pulled me.
“Sorry about that,” Ablah said sheepishly, releasing his arm. “Dad tends to jump headfirst into things once he’s made up his mind. He wasn’t trying to force you into telling everyone or anything.”
“You don’t have to apologise,” Shehryar assured her. “None of this was your doing.”
“Uh…” She chuckled awkwardly. “Before you say that…unfortunately, you’re a new face around here, so everyone at some point is going to come ask who you are. But you don’t have to worry, we’ll stick with the family friend story and brush off any nosey questions.”
She was right. The further we walked into the hall, the more obvious it was that everyone was watching us, whispering behind their hands with judgement and some with open intrigue.
Not even five steps after Ablah had said that, a group of three girls around the same age as her blocked our path. I could smell who they were from their sickly-sweet perfumes a mile away.
They were the mean, popular girls, and the brunette leader in the middle was eyeing Shehryar like he was her favourite pudding, biting her bottom lip and everything.
Firstly, ew. Secondly, fuck no, bitch.
A possessive fire ignited in my chest, filling my mouth with smoke.
“Who’s this, Ablah?” the brunette said, practically purring her words.
Ablah flashed us an apologetic look. “This is Shehryar and Mariyah. They’re my dad’s friends.”
“Oh, really? You never mentioned your dad had such a cute friend.” The brunette had the audacity to place her hand on Shehryar’s chest. “We would’ve come to your house last time if you had.”
The other two girls giggled at some cruel inside joke, and Ablah’s face flushed. I knew the fucking bitch had ignored me on purpose, and the fact she’d hurt Ablah in the process too made the smoke build hotter, fierier, and deadly. I’d only just met the birthday girl, but I liked her.
Shehryar removed the girl’s hand, pinching her wrist like she was dirty. “Please don’t touch me.”
“Oh, you don’t have to be so polite around me,” she said, trying to touch him with her other hand. “Can I call you Sheri, by the way?”
Yeah, no, no. Fuck no.
Forget that she was likely a minor sexually harassing him, that was my fucking name for him.
Pushing her back with my forearm, I stepped in front of Shehryar. The brunette stumbled, but quickly righted herself and glared. “Excuse me. You are?”
“Embarrassed for you is what I am,” I said, giving her a big overexaggerated grin. “Because, sweetie, you see, this man behind me”—I thumbed at Shehryar over my shoulder—“is my boyfriend . And he has no interest in a drooling little child like you who can’t even be nice to someone he cares about.” I nodded to Ablah. “So, why don’t you scurry along and go find the snotty, trust-fund boy your daddy wants you to marry instead of biting your lip like a fucking beaver? Hmm?” I sunk back against Shehryar’s chest, widening my eyes and smile, and he circled his arm around my waist.
Red in the face, the brunette huffed and gaped like a fish. “You’re—you’re a bitch.”
I chuckled, slow and arrogant. “Thank you. That’s such a sweet thing to say.”
Realising she wasn’t going to do any damage, she and her posse gave me up-and-down glares before trudging off in sync. And it was fucking movie quality, I’d give them that.
“I’m your boyfriend?” Shehryar whispered in my ear.
My skin prickled hot and pink as I glanced up at him. “Shut up.”
He flashed me the first real smile since we’d arrived. “You know you can’t take that back now.”
I rolled my eyes, smiling reluctantly. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
His mischievous stare said otherwise, but I turned my attention to Ablah. The young girl gaped in utter awe before clapping her lips together. “That—was awesome.”
I chuckled. “I hope I didn’t make things worse for you.”
She shook her head. “No, not at all. I didn’t actually want to invite them, but Dad said I had to since he does business with their families, and as you saw, they’re really not nice, so what you did was—”
“This must be the other son, huh?”
And along came person number four to interrupt us.
This time, a man, who was pretty much a younger, scruffier replica of Andrew Platmon, but with darker eyes, slimmer shoulders, and a whole lot of bitter ego and misplaced arrogance. He looked younger than me but barely much older than Ablah.
“Johnny, not now,” Ablah grumbled.
Johnny rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. “What? Isn’t this why Dad invited him? For us to meet him? Introduce me then.”
He had no respect for his sister, that much was clear, and I instantly disliked him. He was the epitome of a spoilt, small-dicked, trust-fund boy who had yet to actually grow up.
Ablah huffed out a breath and gestured between Johnny and Shehryar. “Shehryar, this is Johnny, my older brother.”
“Hi,” Shehryar said calmly.
His arm around me tensed. Because Johnny Platmon wasn’t looking at him. He was eyeing me up like a disgusting sleazebag, ogling my hips in a way that almost made me shudder.
The hunger in his sardonic stare was sickening when he finally met my gaze. “Dad allowed him to bring a curvy tawaif with him? Why’s that not shocking?”
I didn’t know what tawaif meant, but going off the reaction of Ablah, the stillness of Shehryar around me, and the context of what he’d said, I was sure he’d called me a whore.
“Johnny,” Ablah snapped. “What on Neves? Why would you say that?”
“Apologise to my girlfriend. Now ,” Shehryar uttered, and the cold, hard murder in his voice caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.
“Oh, girlfriend,” Johnny said with exaggerated realisation and placed his hand on his chest. “Apologies for the mistake, Miss…”
“Levine,” I said blankly.
“Miss Levine.” He gestured to Shehryar. “I mean, you must know why the error was easy to make considering the situation.”
“No, I don’t actually. But don’t worry, we all make mistakes.” I smiled and shrugged. “Yours was calling me a tawaif , and your father’s was you. Right?”
His face flamed red with fury. “You fucking little—”
I was abruptly moved out the way, and in my place stood Shehryar, staring down a fuming Johnny. “Finish your sentence. I dare you,” he growled.
Johnny was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and backed away, pulling at the lapels of his suit jacket. “I’d advise you to keep your girlfriend on a leash, brother .”
And then he walked off, smiling like a little ball of snot.
“What did he call me?” I asked once Shehryar stopped glaring after him.
He ground his teeth together, a ferocious fire burning in his eyes. “A prostitute.”
“Wow.” I scoffed and shook my head. I wasn’t offended. It was just so damn predictable.
“I’m so sorry, Mariyah,” Ablah said, worrying her hands. “He can be such an ass sometimes.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said and placed a hand over Shehryar’s pounding heart. “It’ll be fine.”
I said that, but I had a bad feeling about Johnny.
And how fucking right I turned out to be.