Chapter One
Welcome, angels!
A couple of things:
♡ I don’t always mention contraception or STI’s, please assume the characters are being safe and not playing pregnancy roulette.
♡ I use British English. PLEASE do not correct my spelling with American English (it’s super annoying sorry 😩, not everyone spells words with a ‘z’ or one ‘s’.)
♡ That being said, if you notice any grammar mistakes, it would be great if you could point them out.
♡ I write mature romances. The words ‘clit’ and ‘cock’ will make an appearance. If that’s not your thing, please leave without complaint.
♡ You can follow me on Instagram, naughtyxchristian.
Thank you and enjoy! L x
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Zainab's POV.
Since when is loving someone a crime? If I can't have him, there isn't much point in breathing. My body is merely an empty vessel, he is the one who holds my soul. In every way, I belong to him.
I turn up my nose and pick up my pen. My thumb keeps the book open at the right page as I jot down some notes. My thoughts mainly centre around that this is a little dramatic and a whole lot romantic. The targeted demographic will need to be considered in depth, some people won't want this much gushy proclamation.
Just as I put down my pen and make to return to reading, my phone starts to vibrate on my desk. Working itself up into such a frenzy that I know it must be a phone call that is causing it to jump dangerously close to the edge of the desk. A smile spreads onto my lips at the sight of the caller ID.
"Zal," I answer immediately with his nickname.
"Nab," he responds a beat later. "My sis," he drags out the word. "How are you, bruv?"
I roll my eyes at my twin brother.
"How many times have I asked you not to call me 'bruv'? I'm good thanks, Faisal. How are you?"
"All good, all good. Look, plans have changed and we're coming back early."
I frown at this news. My brother is a famous rapper, he has been on tour in the states for the last four months. His tour has finished but he's meant to be travelling around, being a tourist for another week before returning to London.
"I thought you weren't back until next Wednesday?"
"Nah, this city we're in is dead man, I'm bored. I miss home, ya know?"
"Sure. When are coming back then?"
"That's why I'm callin'. Tonight. Dad's chartered a plane for us."
I wonder how much that has cost him?
"Oh, amazing!"
"Yeah, all good innit. I'm gonna be back in London by ten, then we're going out, yeah?"
For the last three months, I haven't touched a drop of alcohol. That was very intentional. Faisal goes out more than anyone I've ever met, he's rarely at home. He doesn't touch alcohol much, but he's always smoking weed. It's bothered me as teenagers, it bothers me now, but no matter how many times I've told him to stop, he doesn't listen.
I refuse to touch drugs. I had a bad experience with them that involved my best friend and it put me off for life. I'll drink though, and I happen to be a massive lightweight, so I usually end up getting plastered when Faisal convinces me to join his crew on a night out.
My liver has welcomed the break these last few months, I can practically hear it crying in protest. I have to promise myself that I won't make a habit of it like it has been in the past. I've worked on myself the last few months, therapy has brought me a whole new perspective. Maybe Faisal will see the change in me, my boss certainly has.
"Where should I meet you?"
"My place, but I'll send Reagan over to collect you from work. What time do you finish?"
I glance at the clock. It's 2pm here, I finish in about three hours. Two days a week, I have to work in the office. The other three days, I can work remotely.
"5pm."
"Awesome, Reagan will be there. See you soon sis."
"Bye, Faisal."
We hang up and I sigh heavily. I lean back in my chair and stare at the black screen of my phone. As if summoning him, my father texts and my phone lights up.
I have just received word that Faisal is returning to the country. I will be indisposed for the next two weeks, but will try to return to London some time at the end of the month. Keep an eye on him for me. X
I smile at the thought of my dad, hugely successful business magnate, adding a kiss at the end of his text. His text also irritates me, though. I'm twenty-four. I'm not a babysitter for my brother. He's actually older by three minutes, but you'd never know that. He might be famous and he might be a very talented rapper, but he's immature and makes rash decisions. I've been looking out for him all our lives, from him getting into fights at school to bailing him out on drunk driving charges at eighteen.
That's why, wherever Faisal goes, his crew goes with him. Four guys, his best friends since school, the ones he calls his blood brothers. He trusts them as much as he trusts me, they're part of his family, they keep him out of trouble and watch his back. As much as I think the codependency isn't healthy, I'm grateful that they're always with him. The posse of bodyguards help me sleep at night, too.
With thoughts of my brother on my mind, I return to reading the romance book.
I'm outside. Come down whenever you're ready, Zai.
I smile at Reagan's text. He has been on my father's payroll since I was sixteen. The man has known me for nearly ten years. He's thirty-eight, a father of two and happily married to a nurse who works night-shifts. In reward for being on the job for a whole week at a time, he gets a week off. His wife arranges her weeks off at the same time. So, for whole weeks at a time, they barely see each other, then they have a whole week of seeing each other. The kids' grandparents look after them the rest of the time. It's an odd way of living, but it works for them.
I pack up my things and leave the book on my desk for further consideration. My boss is still in her office, scanning over a thick manuscript. Her glasses are perched on the end of her nose, her beady eyes narrowed. She looks up when I fill the doorway.
"I'm off now, Suze. You good for me to go?"
"Yes, go," she says waving her hand in what seems like a dismissive gesture, but I know it's not. "Have a good weekend."
"You too."
Out on the street, Reagan is waiting beside a blacked-out SUV. He looks smart in his black suit. The earpiece really gives him that spy/bodyguard vibe.
"Reagan."
He smirks back at me and gets the door.
"Zainab."
He tried to call me Miss Qadir at the start of his employment. Faisal and I were having none of it, he's called us by our first names ever since.
"Home, please," I tell him as he gets behind the driver's seat, in case he gets any ideas about going to my brother's first.
I need a shower before I deal with the chaos that will be tonight. With Faisal having been gone for months, there will no doubt be a messy party to honour his return.
Back at my flat, Reagan makes himself comfortable on my couch and watches TV, like I instruct him to. It took years for him to become relaxed in my presence, I'm so glad we have the kind of relationship now where he can live a normal life while on the job with me.
I take a shower and spend ages drying my hair. It is naturally wavy and I leave it untouched, too lazy to straighten it. Thanks to my Bahraini parents, I have glossy skin the colour of Acacia wood (My best friend bought a new coffee table, we found it funny that it was the same colour as us. It became the perfect way to describe our skin tone, a warm shade of brown with nuanced caramel undertones).
The way my eyes curve at the ends is emphasised by my black flicks that I've painted on with eyeliner. I don't think you could call my pupils brown, they're far too dark, they're black really. I don't mind though, they match my black hair. I'm usually quite a self-critical person, but the one thing I like about myself is that I have a full Cupid's bow top lip. I love emphasising it with lipliner, just like I do tonight.
When my eyelashes are fluttering with their long length, my eyelids are glittering with sparkly eyeshadow and my winged eyeliner could cut a man, I'm ready. I clip on my silver metallic heels and walk uncertainly into the living room.
"Okay Reagan, you're seriously going to have to help me tonight, these things are lethal."
His eyes widen at the six-inch stilettos I'm wearing.
"They are death traps. Why are you wearing those?"
"They're new!" I whine. "I haven't had the opportunity to try them out yet."
"You're going to break your ankle," he says dryly. "And I won't even be there to take you to hospital."
I pout at him and put my hands on my hips.
"What? Why?"
"Didn't your brother tell you?" He frowns and gets to his feet off the sofa. "I'm not working tonight, the new guy is. He got a new bodyguard in the states. He's come back with him."
There's only one new guy that I heard of. I remember his surname, Huxley. He saved my brother's life.
"I didn't know that he's come back with him."
"That's strange...oh shit, maybe Faisal wanted to tell you himself."
Reagan hesitates.
"He's going to be your new bodyguard."
What?
