The Sheikh's Virgin Bride(101)

After I’d spoken, there was a gulf of silence as my words filled the room, engulfing everything. Finally, taking my other hand, Lucy spoke.

“God, Khabib. I am so, so sorry.”

I nodded, letting her take my face in her hands.

“I am, too.”

And now, her eyes were glistening with tears, though it was her lips that were doing everything, that were pressing to mine, slipping over and under them. They were soft and slightly slick, with gloss, or tears, maybe.

Like this, we pressed our foreheads together and let our bodies do the talking. Everything was one inevitable joining of parts, returning to what we knew best, how we were best together. Her hands and my hands, her lips and my lips. I moved my hands down her body, the wine glass toppled, and I froze.

Now, Lucy was looking at me with arousal—and fear. She had remembered, too. We weren’t supposed to be doing this. Yet, that look said it all. We were not supposed to be doing this—but we would. She would give in as soon as my lips pressed hers again; it was certain.

And yet, my lips stopped a millimeter away from hers. Even as I willed them forward, they wouldn’t move. I couldn’t.

“Not like this.”

“What?”

I shook my head and drew away.

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to. I don’t know why you’re still uncertain about me, Lucy, but I don’t want to push you into doing anything you’ll regret later.”

Another great sadness passed over Lucy’s face, then, a terrible sort of smile.

“Thank you Khabib. I…I’m not uncertain about you, I just need to figure a few things out before I throw myself in headfirst. I’m sorry for shutting you out like that. I thought that was the only way to give myself time to do what I needed to. I never meant to hurt you and I never planned to stay out of contact with you for good, only for a few weeks.”

I nodded and stroked her cheek.

“Lucy, it’s fine. You take all the time you need. And, when you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

She nodded and squeezed my hand.

“It won’t be much longer, and I’ll be back to work as usual. In fact, on Monday, everything will be fine; we can go back to the way things were. You and me—us. Just give me until Monday.”





Chapter Sixteen





Lucy




Right after Khabib had left, I fell into a horrible, restless sleep. Sleep patch by sleep patch, awake hour by awake hour, I constructed my plan, and the first thing I needed to do was go see my mom. So, Saturday morning, after the strongest coffee I could make, and a banana to get me going, I went over there.

Being in her claustrophobic box of an apartment, however, with her half-knowing look and waiting silence, was harder than I’d anticipated. I sat there, silent, playing with the marshmallows in my hot chocolate, until she finally said it.

“Lucy. Tell me.”

My “What do you mean?” was even less convincing than I could’ve hoped. Yes, Mom looked at me with those blue eyes, piercing even behind her cloudy spectacles. She wheeled her chair over so her intense gaze was drilling right into me. I sighed.

“Okay, so you know that new job?”

“Yeah?”

“How I’m Khabib’s personal assistant.”

“Yes.”

“Well, Khabib’s parents, they’re worried about him. He parties a lot, and they wanted me to dissuade him from the wild life he’s been living. They’ve been having me spy on him and report back to them.”

Mom was shaking her grey head, but I wasn’t finished yet.

“And that’s not all.”

Her gaze shot back up to mine, and I felt my heart plummet. This wasn’t going to be easy— admitting just how much I’d strayed from the honest, sensible girl she’d raised me as.

“Khabib and I, we’ve been…seeing each other.”

Her blue eyes narrowed.

“Seeing.”

“Going on dates…and…yes, Mom, sleeping with each other.”

My mom’s head bowed a little.

“So, you’ve been spying on your boss, and sleeping with him.”

My head hung sadly, my gaze turned away; I couldn’t look at her. Not now.

“And this Khabib, he’s all fun and no seriousness, eh?”

I shook my head.

“He really cares about me, Mom. He wants to introduce me to his parents as his girlfriend. He’s changed his lifestyle since we’ve started seeing each other.”

When I chanced a look up at her, she didn’t look as angry as I’d feared. She pursed her lips.

“That part I understand. What I do not understand, however, is this agreeing to spy on him in the first place.”

“They threatened to fire me—I’m under contract to Khabib’s father, Ra’id, not Khabib.”

“And so what if they did? You could find another job, maybe not as good a one, but still.”

Her gaze on me had once again become piercing.

“Lucy?”

“Well, we need the money.”

After my quiet voice, hers seemed extra-loud.

“We need the money, do we?” Her voice went quiet again, and she took my hand. “My dear Lucy, do you mean to tell me that you’ve been engaging in this spying nonsense all for me?”