Chapter 22
Following my proposition to Zayn on Molavi Industries, he had been adamantly trying to show my father that he was adequately capable of holding the Presidency position. This show of aptitude consisted primarily of phone call and Skype interviews, much to my amusement. I knew that father did not require him to put so much effort into the process; father knew better than anyone Zayn's potential. Zayn was just so anal about this sort of thing; he had to prove himself. He wouldn't have the position simply handed to him. Regardless, it took him about five days to get father's "approval." That day was the first time I had seen him grin so widely; I doubt he had smiled like that in front of Rebecca. He even gave me another hug; albeit, it was significantly more awkward than our previous exchange, but it was pleasant.
Meanwhile, I was dealing with a dilemma of my own. Marie Lynn, the woman who worked for Mr. Azad and acted as my maid of honor in my wedding, recently informed me of a commitment I had made which completely elapsed from my memory. My honeymoon. Our honeymoon.
Holy fuck.
I had originally persuaded Marie Lynn and a few others to move our honeymoon five months past the date of our consummated marriage; a decision I had contributed to excessive "business" that needed attending. Now, five months later, the time had come. There was no running away this time. Luckily, things were better between Zayn and I, but that didn't take away from the fact that this would be ridiculously awkward. Damn it, things were moving way too quickly. First, father gave me the good news I had always wanted and now this. Life was kicking me in the ass right now, wasn't it?
Our honeymoon destination was none other than one of my most favorite locations in the entire world, Istanbul, Turkey. I cursed under my breath as I thought of how much fun this would be, only if I excluded the obvious awkwardness between Zayn and I. Then again, why was I so sure that things would take a maladroit turn? Optimism was my best friend and I had to use him like a toothbrush, twice a day, every day. If anything, we would be participating in a few, stereotypical honeymoon activities, void of sex, such as sightseeing and sharing a scenic breakfast. Besides that, we would be attending a few business-related events, as I was sure. At least we'd be kept busy.
Oh, but I was still ridiculously nervous. The only word on my mind for the next few days was "sex;" such a taunting three letter word. Honeymoons were traditionally characterized by excessive, hot, and passionate love making; but, then again, there was nothing traditional about this marriage. Though, no matter how much I told myself that, something in the bottom of my stomach throbbed in protest. Fuck. Oh fuck.
Two days after Zayn had been given the "OK" from my father and another two days from our flight's departure, I approached him with my concerns. Well, not quite concerns, as they were claims. He was sitting in the study beside our bedroom, an array of Malik Industry contractual papers before him. He had a pair of black rimmed reading glasses on, as well as a moss green turtle-neck sweater and dark-washed denim jeans. He looked sporting.
I cleared my throat as I stood at the doorway, unsure of a proper way to interrupt his concentration. At the sound, however, he looked up at me and removed his glasses.
"Farah," He noted, placing the glasses on the far corner of the desk.
I cautiously walked in and took a seat across his desk, on a plush leather chair with a joint ottoman. "Zayn, we'll be leaving in two days... for our honeymoon" I said, quietly.
He only nodded, glancing back down at his work. He picked up a fountain pen and began scribbling words down onto one of the papers. "Go on, I'm listening."
Page 2 sur 2
I inhaled. "Well... How do you feel about this?"
Zayn looked up. "About the honeymoon?"
I nodded.
He pushed back from the desk with a deep exhale, folding his arms across his chest. "Perfectly fine, I don't know why I'd feel otherwise." He replied, calmly.
Oh, he wasn't nervous or angry or anxious. He was just... fine?
Catching onto my awestruck expression, he added, "Well, the world expects a newlywed couple to partake in a honeymoon. And, if you're concerned about intimacy, I promise you that that won't be happening."
Oh, again. I couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed. Yes, disappointed. I tried to play it off, as if I was pleased with his response. I bobbed my head, dumbly, before rising to my feet, bidding him farewell, and stumbling out of the study in my seemingly intoxicated state.
Good god, we were going on a honeymoon together.
