CHAPTER TWENTY
“Don’t decide for me.”
By Monday morning, Zara had made up her mind.
She was done guessing.
Done staring at her phone.
Done convincing herself that everything was fine when it clearly wasn't.
If something had changed, she wanted to hear it from Malik.
Not from silence.
Not from excuses.
From him.
Bellamy & Co. was unusually quiet.
Most of the team had left for a venue walkthrough in Manhattan, leaving Zara to finish supplier contracts at the office.
She'd just opened her laptop when Camille appeared at her desk.
"Everything alright?"
Zara looked up, surprised.
"I must be getting predictable."
"You've reorganised the same folder three times."
"I have?"
Camille smiled.
"You have."
For a moment, Zara considered brushing the question aside.
Instead, she sighed.
"I think Malik's avoiding me."
Camille didn't look surprised.
"He cancelled dinner."
"He stopped calling."
"And every time I ask if he's okay..."
"...he says he's busy."
Camille leaned against the desk.
"I've known Malik a long time."
She chose her next words carefully.
"When he cares about someone, his instinct is to protect them."
"That's a good thing, isn't it?"
"Usually."
Camille's expression softened.
"But sometimes people confuse protecting someone with making decisions for them."
Those words stayed with Zara long after Camille walked away.
At half past four, Zara closed her laptop.
Instead of going home, she climbed into a taxi.
"Foundation House, please."
The driver nodded.
As the city blurred past the window, her stomach twisted with nerves.
She wasn't angry.
Not really.
She was hurt.
And there was a difference.
Foundation House was almost empty.
Most of the volunteers had already left for the evening.
The reception desk pointed her towards the gardens.
"You'll probably find Mr. Carter by the river."
She thanked them and walked through the quiet building.
The gardens were bathed in the golden light of early evening.
She spotted Malik immediately.
He sat alone on the wooden bench dedicated to his mother, elbows resting on his knees, staring out across the water.
He didn't notice her until she was only a few feet away.
When he looked up, surprise flashed across his face.
"Zara."
"Hi."
He stood immediately.
"What are you doing here?"
She folded her arms.
"I think the better question is..."
"...what are you doing?"
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The breeze stirred the trees overhead.
Somewhere in the distance, children laughed on the basketball court.
Finally, Malik sighed.
"I've been trying to keep you out of this."
"Out of what?"
He looked away.
"My problems."
Zara stepped closer.
"You don't get to make that decision for me."
His jaw tightened.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because if I tell you..."
He stopped himself.
"If you tell me what?"
His voice dropped.
"You're in danger."
The words hung in the air.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Zara stared at him.
"What?"
He rubbed a hand across his face.
"There are people from my past."
"You know that."
She nodded slowly.
"They've started watching you."
Her heart skipped.
"The photographs."
His eyes widened.
"You know about photographs?"
"I don't."
"I'm guessing."
He looked down.
For a second, that was answer enough.
"You've been keeping this from me?"
"I was trying to protect you."
"So instead you ignored me?"
"I thought if you stayed away from me..."
"...they'd lose interest."
Zara shook her head in disbelief.
"You honestly thought disappearing without an explanation was the best idea?"
"I thought it was the safest."
"No."
Her voice trembled—not with fear, but frustration.
"It was the easiest."
He looked up sharply.
"It was easier for you to decide what I should do than to trust me with the truth."
"I didn't want you involved."
"You don't get to choose that."
Malik looked exhausted.
"I've spent ten years making sure innocent people never paid for my mistakes."
"I know."
"I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you."
Zara's eyes filled with tears.
"And what about what happens to me when you push me away?"
He had no answer.
She took another step towards him.
"My entire life..."
"...people have made decisions for me."
"My mother."
"My family."
"They decided what I could become."
"What I should want."
"Who I should be."
Her voice broke.
"I left Tennessee because I was tired of people deciding my life."
She looked directly into his eyes.
"I'm not letting the man I care about do the exact same thing."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
The man I care about.
Malik's expression softened.
"You care about me?"
She gave a watery laugh.
"I've been standing here arguing with you for ten minutes."
"What do you think?"
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite everything.
"I think you're beautiful when you're angry."
She pointed a finger at him.
"Don't."
"What?"
"Charm your way out of this."
"I wasn't trying to."
"You absolutely were."
For the first time in days...
They both laughed.
It was brief.
But it broke the tension.
Malik became serious again.
"I don't know how to do this."
"What?"
"Let someone close without worrying they'll get hurt."
Zara nodded.
"I don't know how to trust someone without expecting them to leave."
Silence settled between them.
Then she reached for his hand.
Not dramatically.
Not hesitantly.
Simply...
Naturally.
"Maybe," she said quietly, "we figure it out together."
He looked down at their hands.
Then back at her.
"I've never had someone stay after hearing the worst parts."
"You still haven't told me the worst parts."
"No."
He smiled faintly.
"I haven't."
"Then stop assuming you'll scare me away."
As they stood beneath the old oak tree, Malik took a slow breath.
"I've got security watching the Foundation."
"I've increased patrols around my businesses."
"And starting tomorrow..."
He hesitated.
"...I'd like someone to keep an eye on you."
Zara immediately frowned.
"A bodyguard?"
"A security driver."
"I don't need one."
"I know."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
She folded her arms.
"I don't want someone following me around."
"I'm asking."
She studied him for a long moment.
Then sighed.
"For a week."
Relief washed across his face.
"Thank you."
"But..."
She stepped closer.
"...if we're doing this..."
"...no more deciding things without me."
"I promise."
"No disappearing."
"I promise."
"No shutting me out."
He smiled.
"I promise."
She looked at him carefully.
"You'd better mean it."
"I do."
As they began walking back towards the building, Zara slipped her hand into his.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
He held it gently, his thumb brushing across her knuckles.
"You know," he said.
"What?"
"I've missed you."
She smiled.
"I noticed."
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
She looked up at him.
"Just don't make me miss you like that again."
He stopped walking.
"I won't."
Then, in the quiet of the garden where his mother had once sat every Sunday, he leaned down and kissed her.
It wasn't like their first kiss.
There was no uncertainty.
No hesitation.
It was warm.
Comforting.
A promise instead of a question.
When they finally pulled apart, Zara rested her forehead against his.
"I think we're officially past pretending now."
He smiled.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
Neither of them noticed the camera lens hidden beyond the hedge.
A single click.
One photograph.
Then another.
From inside the parked sedan outside the gates, Devon lowered the camera and looked at the new images.
Malik holding Zara's hand.
Malik kissing Zara beneath the oak tree.
He smiled to himself.
"So..."
He slipped the photographs into a folder.
"Now we've got something worth taking away."
The engine started.
The sedan disappeared into the evening traffic.
And for the first time since Zara arrived in New York...
Love had made her stronger.
It had also made her vulnerable.