CHAPTER TEN
“Ghosts don’t stay gone.”
Monday mornings at Bellamy & Co. always started the same way.
Coffee.
Emails.
Controlled chaos.
Zara slipped into her chair just before nine, balancing a coffee in one hand and a folder in the other.
Naomi looked up from her computer.
"Morning, Mrs. Carter."
Zara stopped walking.
"I'm sorry... what?"
Naomi burst into laughter.
"The way you've been smiling every time your phone buzzes lately."
"I do not smile."
"You absolutely do."
"I absolutely don't."
"You smiled just now."
"I was being polite."
Naomi folded her arms.
"Girl, I've known you three weeks."
"Exactly."
"And in those three weeks I've watched you go from looking like you wanted to catch the first bus back to Tennessee..."
"...to smiling every time a certain six-foot-four businessman texts you."
Zara sat down, determined not to react.
"We're friends."
"Mmm."
"We've had dinner once."
"Mmm."
"It wasn't a date."
"Mmm."
Zara laughed.
"You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
Before either of them could say another word, Camille stepped out of her office.
"Zara, could I borrow you for a moment?"
Camille closed the office door behind them.
"I wanted to tell you personally."
Zara straightened instinctively.
"Is everything okay?"
"More than okay."
Camille handed her a slim folder.
"I've decided to make you lead coordinator for next month's charity auction."
Zara blinked.
"Lead?"
"You've earned it."
"I've only been here a few weeks."
"I hired you because I saw potential."
Camille smiled.
"Now I'm seeing proof."
Emotion caught Zara off guard.
"Thank you."
"I won't let you down."
"I know."
As Zara stood to leave, Camille added,
"One more thing."
"Yes?"
"Mr. Carter called this morning."
Her stomach tightened.
"He wanted to personally thank the team."
A pause.
"Then he asked whether you enjoyed working with the Foundation."
Zara looked away.
"What did you tell him?"
"The truth."
"And what's that?"
Camille smiled knowingly.
"That you're one of the best decisions I've made this year."
Around lunchtime, Zara decided to walk to the café instead of eating at her desk.
The autumn air had turned cooler.
Leaves drifted along the pavement.
Street musicians filled the avenue with jazz.
She ordered a chicken sandwich and was waiting for her coffee when someone bumped into her shoulder.
Hard.
Her drink slipped.
Coffee splashed across the pavement.
"I'm so sorry."
The young man bent immediately to help.
He couldn't have been older than twenty.
Black hoodie.
Baseball cap pulled low.
Nervous eyes.
"No worries," Zara said.
"It was my fault."
The young man looked over his shoulder twice before hurrying away without another word.
Strange.
Very strange.
When Zara turned back towards the café window, she noticed a black SUV parked across the street.
Inside sat two men.
Watching.
She frowned.
Maybe they were waiting for someone.
Maybe she was imagining things.
Still...
Something about the way one of them looked at her made her uncomfortable.
The traffic lights changed.
The SUV drove away.
That evening, Malik sat alone in his office overlooking downtown Brooklyn.
Most of the staff had gone home hours earlier.
The city glittered beneath the floor-to-ceiling windows.
A knock sounded against the door.
"Come in."
His younger sister, Keisha, walked inside carrying two takeaway containers.
"You skipped dinner again."
"I've been busy."
"You've been hiding."
Malik smiled faintly.
"I own the building."
"You own lots of buildings."
She placed one container in front of him.
"But you can't own peace."
He looked at her.
"You've been spending too much time with Mama's old church friends."
"They're wise."
"They're nosy."
"They're both."
Malik laughed quietly.
Keisha studied him for a moment.
"There's something different about you."
"No there isn't."
"There is."
She leaned back in her chair.
"You've started smiling at your phone."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Really?"
"Really."
"I smile at emails."
"You do not smile at emails."
She grinned.
"Who is she?"
Malik looked down at the unopened takeaway container.
"Her name's Zara."
Keisha's smile softened.
"The event planner?"
"You've heard of her?"
"Camille mentioned she impressed everyone."
Malik nodded.
"She did."
Keisha watched her brother carefully.
"I haven't heard you talk about a woman like that in years."
He didn't answer.
Instead, he looked out across the skyline.
"I don't want to drag someone good into the mess that follows me."
Across town, Zara arrived home just before eight.
Miss Claudette was baking sweet potato pie.
The apartment smelled like cinnamon and butter.
"You hungry?"
"Always."
They ate together at the kitchen table.
Halfway through dessert, Zara mentioned the strange encounter outside the café.
"The young man seemed frightened."
Miss Claudette frowned.
"And the car?"
"It was probably nothing."
"Maybe."
"But always trust your instincts."
Zara nodded.
"I usually do."
Later that night, Malik's phone rang.
The number wasn't saved.
He answered anyway.
"What?"
A familiar voice replied.
"Haven't heard from you in a while, M."
Malik's expression hardened instantly.
"I told you never to call this number."
"We need to talk."
"We've got nothing to discuss."
"You sure about that?"
Silence.
Then the voice laughed.
"You've been keeping busy."
"I heard about the charity work."
"I heard about the restaurants."
"And..."
"...I heard about the girl."
Every muscle in Malik's body tightened.
"If you know what's good for you..."
"...you'll leave her out of this."
"You always were protective."
The line went dead.
Malik stared at the phone.
For the first time in years...
His past hadn't just knocked on the door.
It had found his address.
He walked to the window overlooking Brooklyn.
Somewhere out there, Zara was probably reading, watching television, or calling it an early night.
Completely unaware that someone had already noticed her.
Malik closed his eyes.
He had spent years building a life where violence no longer had a place.
Now he wasn't sure that life would leave him alone.
And for the first time since meeting Zara...
He wondered if getting close to her might be the one thing he could never forgive himself for.