Time had passed since my interaction with Zayn Malik. It had been three days from then and I hadn’t spoken to him at all. Today was our engagement party and I was donning a large diamond on my middle finger. As I sat alone in one of the Malik estate sunrooms, allowing whatever sunlight that peeked from the clouds high over London city warm my body, I stared at the rock on my hand. It represented all kinds of commitment I was terrified of making to a man I was horrified of. I let a sigh escape from my lips. My father wasn’t much of an emotional rock for me to rely on, but it would’ve been nice if he was here for the engagement. He had left back for India two days ago to attend to his business, leaving me in the hands of the Malik maids and butlers. It wasn’t too bad, actually. The work here actually conversed with me and was sweet.
Lisa, for example, was one such maid who made my days here bearable. She walked into the sunroom and was pouring me tea when she commented on my hair. “Miss, it looks very silky today. You must take very good care of it.”
I chuckled. “Thank you, Lisa. Your hair is nice, as well.”
She blushed, keeping her eyes on my cup. “You flatter, miss.”
I took the cup and took a reserved sip before placing it back onto the granite table top. I was wasting away a few minutes before the party. According to Lisa and Bradley, the butler I had grown fond of, everyone from London would be coming to this gathering. I was experiencing a sort of nervousness that embodied itself in the form of nausea. I watched as Lisa exited the room and rose to my feet. I paced the sunroom a few times, holding my hand over my stomach in attempt to calm a roaring fire from within its walls. I was ready for the event- my hair had been curled to my shoulders, I was wearing an expensive designer white dress Mr. Azad had picked out himself, and my makeup had been done by a celebrity artist for rich and famous Londoners. I looked like a doll and felt like a doll. Perfect.
When I left the room, minutes later, I realized that people I had never seen before were gathering around the house. Guests were beginning to arrive and I had no idea what to do with myself. I hadn’t yet grown aware of the layout of the Malik estate and often found myself lost in the many similarly decorated hallways but today I had a good idea of where I needed to go.
I smiled politely to the guests, waving my hand occasional in order to avoid any rumors of my rude behavior, and headed straight to the room on the far side of the hallway. The doors were closed, as I had expected, and when I threw them open, a grin spread across my face.
“Bloody hell!” I heard Zayn spit from behind one of the stands in the library. “Close the doors, damn it!”
I complied obligingly before finding the source of his voice. I found him sitting on the ground in one of the aisles, a book sprawled across his lap. He was dressed superbly; with his grey tuxedo, maroon tie, and polished black shoes, he looked like a male model. His hair was gently gelled upwards and his earring had been removed. He looked like a proper gentleman.
“You do realize that this is our engagement party, right? We need to greet all of the guests.”
“Shut up.” He swatted me away with his hand. “I have no intention of attending any sort of party. Especially for such a morbid occasion.”
I raised an eyebrow at that last comment. “I’m not ecstatic about this either, but it’s expected of us.”
He glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. “You have no backbone, do you?”
“I abhor that statement!” I protested, feeling myself losing control. “Why are you even dressed, then? You might as well be lying in bed in all your immaturity; why bother wearing a nice suit?”
Zayn shoved the book off of his thighs and rose to his feet. He towered a full head over me and I felt insignificant in comparison. He drew closer to my body, coming mere inches away from my face and whispered into my ear, “I have obligations too, miss.”
He pushed past me and out of the library. This was only my second encounter with him and, yet again, he had managed to make my blood boil.
****
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