Beau Monde ✅

Chapter 3

Nailah Zayed.

Maroudi, Nigeria.

"We need to talk."

I didn't bother to turn around to look at him, already knowing what my answer would be. So, I continued my strides, ignoring him. I could hear the sound of his hastened steps, and quicker than I expected, he came to walk beside me—having caught up.

I blew out a not so visible breath, my gaze fixed on my car a little up ahead. I could've hasten my steps to avoid exchanging any words with him, but I didn't. There's no point in doing that. My point had already been sent across.

We've discussed our reason for being here. So, what else do we need to talk about?

"Nailah." His voice came again, this time, a bit sterner than earlier. It's cute how he thinks that will work on me. He seems to confound my fear of his father as my fear of him. "I just said we need to talk." He was hoping I would at least stop and listen to what he would say.

But since when have I ever done that?

Not turning around to spare him a glance, or halt my movements, I voiced out my reply. "There's nothing to talk about." As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing for us to discuss. The only thing up for discussion was business, and we're through with that.

"You threw me out of the house." He stated, like it's the most bizarre thing I ever did.

Unable to help myself, I flicked my head up and threw him a look, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at him. "I sent you back to where you came from. There's a difference." Technically, I did throw him out but as far as I'm concerned, he left with his legs.

I didn't drag, nor have him dragged out. So, where's my fault in that?

"You can't do that."

"Too bad. I did."

He must've realized nothing he said would make me budge, because his hand suddenly shot up and the next thing I was his hand clasping around my arm, making up both stop. Taking a step forward, he blocked my path leaving me with no choice but to look up, and throw him a slight glare.

He held back my gaze, unwavering. For the next few seconds, we only exchanged a look with no words voiced out. At least, until he decided to speak. "Nailah, I swear, nothing happened between me and Basma." His words came out slow, as if that will send his point across.

Wringing my hand out of his hold, I was slightly surprised to see how easily I was able to do that. However, I knew he intentionally let go because I stand no chance against his strength. Still, I pushed those thoughts aside straightened my spine—my gaze still fixed on his obsidian orbs.

"I don't care." I truly don't. "All I ask of you is, if you are going to see other women, at least go to those on the same social level as I am. Someone like her is an insult to me."

So what if she comes from an influential family and is pretty well known too? I don't care. There's nothing anyone can say that will convince me she and I are on the same social level. We aren't.

And to think my husband would stoop as low as to mingle with someone like her? I can't tolerate anything but that.

Imran blew out a breath, before looking away for a brief second as if trying to gather his thoughts. The action lasted a couple of seconds, before his gaze met mine again. "I mean it, Nailah. Nothing happened between she and I."

"And yet, you reeked of her stench."

"That was...I...we just..."

Pathetic. He couldn't even explain himself.