Khizer is a genius. A genius who isn’t speaking to me, but a genius nonetheless. The bed is large and there’s no couch in this room, so I’d been wondering how we’d sleep.
Thats when Khizer bends down on the left side of the bed and tugs. A sliding bed laid with a mattress and blanket roll out.
“Guess who’s sleeping here?” He grunts, standing back up. Even though the sliding under bed looks comfortable, sleeping on the bed is a matter of dominance and ego, and we both know it.
I will not use the female card to get the bed, and he won’t use the fact that this is his room, so we resort to flipping a coin.
“Heads.” I say. Khizer nods and flips. As it flies back into his palm, we both lean in to check the result.
Fuck. Yes.
My face splits into a grin. “Take to the floor soldier.”
The man in front of me doesn’t share my enthusiasm, doesn’t seem to care at all in fact. He’s still mad at me. I guess I’ll have to try to not care about that then. It’s better to remain professional anyway.
I go to the bathroom to remove my make up, which takes multiple face scrubs to completely wipe it off of my skin. I change into the dark blue night gown and pyjamas I bought at the mall, then get out to search for my hairbrush.
But when I open the door of the dressing room, I’m met with a shirtless Khizer walking around the room.
I gasp. “Put a shirt on Khizer Malik!” I snap angrily, turning away from him. “We have bathrooms for a reason.”
His footsteps get closer and when I look back, he’s standing right in front of me. “Yes I know. In fact I also have a walk in closet- which you locked when you went to the bathroom. My shirts in there.”
Glaring, I step aside and let him enter the room, which is full of his clothes and now, mine as well. His granny was generous enough to have unpacked for me two days before.
Khizer walks in, and I realize this isn’t really an ideal time. My wedding gown is on the floor, thrown away carelessly, and my jewelry is strewn all across the dressing table. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything.
The air is thick with awkward silence, the only noise coming from the sliding closet door.
I will not be like one of those silly girls who would describe how his muscles rippled as he raised his arms to put on the shirt, or how broad his shoulders are and such shit, but damn he’s got a good body. I’m positive his skin is just as smooth as it looks too.
I hurriedly turn away, my face heating up. Maybe my periods are close. It’s the only way I can explain the horny mess which is me.
“Next time, wear a shirt.” I snap.
“Next you’ll be telling me to wear a bra and hide my tits.” He grumbles back.
I glare at him. “Man who walk around not wearing a shirt-”
“You locked the fucking door Mansha. Don’t make me go on about self entitled woman who think they should be the ones going to the bathroom first simply because they wore a skirt instead of jeans.”
The urge to argue back is very strong, but I remain silent. One of us has to right now, and I have a feeling it’s my turn this time. Without saying anything more, I walk out of the room, leaving the grump to spend his wedding night with his toilet.
But something must be very wrong with Ahmed being there for Khizer to react this way. He isn’t creating an issue out of this simply because I broke one of the conditions. I know him, he wouldn’t have cared at all if something I very important to him wasn’t at stake. It’s fishy.
I lay down on the fancy silk sheets, decorated and spread out just for our first night together. We’re supposed to be having sex right now.
My gaze travels to the open dressing room door, Khizer’s silhouette faintly visible. I try to process what went wrong between his uncle and him, why he’s targeting his business, not him nor anything else. Ahmed probably brought Khizer up, since his parents died when he was young. But what happened then? If its as serious as it looks, then why the fuck is he still after him for his business, even though he has a successful one himself.
But either way, kicking Ahmed out was pretty badass of him, I’ll give him that. I wish I could’ve done it with Aunty Sugra.
I don’t look away when Khizer comes out wearing a black night shirt, hair ruffled and face gleaming with droplets of water. He walks over to the light switch, and raises his hand to the button, before pausing and turning to look at me.
I don’t look away.
“You have that expression on again.”
I frown. “What expression?”
“I call it the fox-lady. It’s when Mansha is plotting her next move, which normally involves someone else getting hurt, one way or another.”
I huff. “I’m pretty sure it involves someone benefitting from it as well.”
He nods. “It does.” He tilts his head to the side. “But it’s always you.”