Chapter 14 - Sayid
Control. It has been my greatest strength, my greatest weapon. I built my life around it, wielded it like armor. But as I sit across from Nora in the cabin of my jet, listening to her lay herself bare, that control feels like a fraying thread, unraveling with each word.
Her past with Tyson had already filled me with a quiet, simmering rage. But this—her admission of the only relationship she had after him—was an entirely different weight pressing against my chest. She thought I would be angry. That I would judge her for seeking security in the only way she knew how. That I would see her as broken, and reject her.
She couldn’t be more wrong. I am not angry at her. I am furious at the world that has shaped her choices. At the men who have twisted what is meant to be safe and sacred into something painful. At myself, for not being there sooner. I could have saved her, healed her.
But beneath the anger is something else. Something I did not expect. Understanding. Nora had unknowingly given me something I had never dared to hope for. A piece of herself that aligned so perfectly with my own unspoken desires. She craves security in surrender. I thrive on control rooted in protection. Fate had been cruel to her before, but I know, without a doubt, she is meant to be mine.
As we prepare to descend into Boston, I toy with the idea of revealing my final secret, leaving nothing unturned between us before we embark together. But I can't risk it right now, not yet.
We land in Boston, and she clings to my side as we step off the jet, exhaustion clear in her small frame. I keep my hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of the hanger and into my waiting car.
By the time we reach her apartment building, a part of me wishes I had convinced her to stay with me tonight. Somewhere I can guarantee her safety. But I knew she needed this. The familiarity and comfort of her home after an emotional weekend away.
What I didn’t expect is the white box sitting at her doorstep. My steps slow, instincts flaring. Nora looks just as surprised at the site of the box, glancing up at me before kneeling to pick it up. “What’s this?” She opens the note tucked beneath the ribbon. I read it over her shoulder:
I know you don’t need any, but this is for good luck on your exam.
She lifts the lid, revealing a dozen long-stemmed red roses. A soft inhale left her lips. Then, slowly, she looks up at me, “Sayid, you didn't have to…” She thought they were from me, but paused when my face gave it away. These are not from me, I know she doesn’t like the smell of roses.
My stomach tightens. Tyson . That's my initial thought at least. It reeks of the kind of mind game he likes to play. But then—no. Tyson is reckless, arrogant, and cruel. And I am almost positive he doesn’t know her current address.
She holds the box, brows furrowed with her own confusion and suspicion. This? This is thoughtful. Too thoughtful. My jaw clenches. I study her face, the way her brows knit together, how she hesitates, chewing her lip. “If not from you, then who would send them anonymously? And why roses?”
She's a clever girl, of course she suspects someone else. I exhale slowly, forcing my voice to stay even. “Let me check your place before you enter.”
She nods and immediately hands me her key. I take the box from her, tuck it under my arm, and enter inside. I set the box on a table, my mind already working through possibilities. As I sweep through her apartment, nothing looks off, but there is still no way I am letting her stay here tonight. Not until I know exactly who has sent these flowers. And when I find out? I will make damn sure they never dared to do it again.
“Pack a bag, you can’t stay here tonight,” I say as I lead her inside and to her room. She doesn’t hesitate or argue, and gets right to work grabbing her things. She trusts me. My chest swells with emotion.
I step back into the living area and pull my phone from my pocket, dialing the only number I need. “She’s staying with me,” I say, skipping pleasantries. “Everything needs to be ready by morning.” There is no need to clarify anything else. The man on the other end already knows. His response is immediate.
“Understood. Passports, cards—everything under Nora Stevens will be finalized and delivered to you by dawn. Additional driver and security detail are already in place. Your requested electronics, clothes, and other items are being delivered as we speak.”
“Good.” My voice was low, clipped. “No one touches her.” I end the call and slip the phone back into my pocket. I let myself indulge in a brief thought, wondering how soon Nora can take my last name.
I’ve had eyes on the outside of her apartment, but never on the inside. Her things are simple, tidy, and organized. A few pictures on a shelf catch my attention.
It is the collage of Nora doing cheer that draws me in. She looks absolutely stunning. I’ve heard mention that she had been a cheerleader, but never saw evidence until now. I focus on one picture in particular, she is at the top of the pyramid. She is being held by one leg, her other leg pulled up behind her back, held perfectly in line with the other. Sheer strength and determination.
I am pulled out of my admiration as Nora steps out of her bedroom with a small overnight bag slung over her shoulder. She looks up at me, with a worried look on her face. I take her bag from her, and pull her into my arms, kissing her gently on the top of her head.
“Ready?” She nods, and I lead her back out to the car. When we get in, I pull her close to me. “I’ve got you Nora, you don’t need to worry about anything.” She kisses my cheek in thanks, and I fight the urge for deeper contact between us.
“I saw your cheer photos. You are full of many hidden talents, aren’t you?” A bright smile spreads across her face as she blushes.
“I am sure there are plenty of things I have yet to show you, Mr. Hassan.” I can’t help it, my control slips, and my cock twitches at her response. “I played a lot of sports in my youth. I craved the dedication of learning the different skills that each one required, even from a young age. I eventually had to narrow down my interests.”
“Tell me more.” I say as I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she rests her head on my shoulder. Not only do I crave more knowledge about her, but I also want to keep her distracted away from worrying about the box of roses.
“I played every sport I could that didn’t overlap with each other’s seasons. And between sports I also did gymnastics. I played soccer in the fall, basketball in the winter, and softball in the spring. I spent summer at as many skills camps as my parents could afford to send me to.”
“I even played volleyball for a bit, but gave it up quickly when I couldn’t reach over the net.” She laughs lightly at the memory. “I was able to join a competitive cheer team around the other sports. And soon I replaced soccer in the fall with cheer. I always felt like a cliche on the sidelines cheering for Liam at the football games.”
“But stunting, and competitive cheer became an addiction. I stopped playing basketball in the winter so that I could continue with cheer. Throughout high school I focused on cheer and softball. Gymnastics for practice during the off-season. But junior year, I made the commitment to softball and accepted my scholarship.”
“Were you offered more than one?”
“Yes. I had two competitive cheer offers, and four for softball. I knew I wanted to go further in softball, so I looked for the schools that would take me far from home, and that also fit what I was looking for academically. I had the desire to get away even before things with Tyson.”
“Tyson made me no longer comfortable with how I felt in my cheer uniform, so it made it easier to give up.”
I kiss the top of her head. “I admire your strength and dedication. And also the fiery spirit you show when you play. Like the way you retaliated against Tyson, you didn’t back down.” Her fire lights my own desires in ways I never thought possible.
“I think you are going to bring out even more strength in me, strength I forgot I once had.” She squeezes my hand, and my chest swells with pride.
We approach my hotel, and pull through the loop to the front entrance. “You own this place too?” She asks, stepping out of the car and glancing up at the sleek, glass building.
A faint smirk tugs at my lips. “I own many things, Qamari . ” Her breath hitches just enough for me to notice. Our bags are loaded out of the trunk of the car and onto a luggage cart. They will be taken to my suite.
I place my hand at the small of her back, guiding her through the doors and into the lobby. I am immediately greeted by hotel staff, and she looks surprised as my security team approaches us. I keep my hand on her back, making my claim known as we walk to the far end of the lobby, and enter my private elevator.
No one follows us into the elevator. As soon as the doors close, sealing us inside, the tension is thickened between us. The soft hum of the elevator is the only sound between us, but the silence isn’t empty. It is charged with palpable energy.
Her scent—warm vanilla, a hint of strawberry, and perhaps something else, wraps around me. She shifts slightly, her body leaning into mine, and I see it in the way she plays with her lip. She feels it too.
I clench my jaw tighter, trying to fight my urges. Control. But fuck, it is slipping. I have waited, been patient for so long. But the weight of everything—the raw truths she had given me, the claim I had already laid on her—is pressing down with an urgency I can’t ignore.
I exhale sharply, closing my eyes for half a second in one more attempt at restraint. Then I glance out the corner of my eyes, down at Nora, and she is already looking right back up at me through her thick lashes. Fuck it.
" Yelaanik ma ajmalik ." It comes out low and rough as I turn to her, pulling her into me. Her eyes widen just before my mouth crushes against hers. She gasps, her fingers fisting my shirt as I back her against the elevator wall. Heat explodes between us.
I lift her effortlessly, her legs instinctively wrap around my waist. This is not a soft kiss. It is claiming. Consuming. The doors slide open to the penthouse, but I barely notice, because I am committing to memory every little sound she makes.
I carry her out without breaking the kiss, my grip tightening around her ass, my pulse hammering. I can’t let go, not yet. I carry her over towards the kitchen and set her down on the cool marble counter. I keep her against me. I want more of her, but this is not the time. I pull her head back, and trail kisses down her jaw, to her neck, sucking slightly.
I feel her shift against me, as something over my shoulder catches her eye. She stiffens slightly in my arms and she turns her head further. I follow her gaze. On the sleek marble counter sits the electronics I had purchased for her.
She swallows, looking back at me with her bright green curious eyes. “For you.” I brush my thumb over her cheek.
“I didn’t need…” I brush my thumb over to her lips.
“I told you, Qamari. I take care of what is mine.” My voice is thick with promise. “I wanted to make sure you have devices capable of international travel.”
She shakes her head as if she can’t believe what she is seeing. “A phone, tablet, and a laptop?”
“Come. Let me show what else there is.” Her jaw drops in awe before a bright smile spreads over her face. I scoop her back up into my arms, and she wraps herself around me again.
Between her cute giggles, she kisses my cheeks as I carry her to the bedroom where bags of designer clothes, jewelry, shoes, and other accessories await her.