Aisha and the Prince of Wales

Chapter VII: A Date with Royalty

The car purred smoothly and silently down the streets, its tinted windows preventing curious onlookers from peering inside. Aisha looked at them from behind the darkened glass, examining their interested stares as a way to avoid looking at Nick.

Because he looked so. Damn. Handsome.

Dressed in a crisp black shirt and charcoal trousers, he exuded masculinity. His slight evening stubble brought out the angles of his face, and a lock of his dark hair curled attractively over his forehead. He smelt musky, and utterly male. Aisha's cheeks flushed, and she was grateful for the darkness of the car. As her heart slammed against her rib cage, she realised she was hopelessly attracted to him.

Trying desperately to break the tension, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and asked casually, "So where are we going?"

"Somewhere private," said Nick, his eyes glittering in the dim light. Aisha felt her blush travel up her neck, staining her face pink. Nick reached out, his fingers trailing her warm cheek. "You look lovely, Aisha," he said softly.

"Thank you," said Aisha softly, looking at her fingers, interlocked on her lap. Nick's long forefinger trailed down her cheek to her chin, lifting her face. She met his gaze, knowing full well that her hopeless crush was visible in her eyes. He held her gaze steadily, his eyes unreadable. The intensity with which he looked at her forced the question that had been bubbling up in her chest out of her lips.

"Why did you ask me out?" she blurted.

Nick smiled. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked.

Aisha shook her head, avoiding his gaze. Nick leaned closer to her, his lips mere centimetres away from the curve of her ear as he whispered, "Because from the moment I first saw you, I was attracted to you. You're beautiful, sophisticated, independent… I found myself thinking about you long after I left the store. I knew I wanted to see you again. And when I ran out of excuses to keep visiting the store, I decided to just come clean, and ask you on a date."

Aisha released a slow breath when he pulled away, the feel of his breath still warm against her ear. His confession had been far more than anything she had expected, and she was intrigued by this new, intense side of him that he had kept masked under a cheerful, polite veneer when he had visited the shop.

"I- I'm flattered," she said, scrambling to regain her composure, "Thank you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Flattered?" he asked sardonically, "You're more reserved than most royals at public events."

The car pulled to a sudden halt- Aisha realised she had been so wrapped up in Nick, she had barely noticed where they were going. 

Leaning close, he said in a conspirational whisper, "I might have to ask you to reevaluate your stance after our date."

*

The date was absolutely magical. Aisha had been worried about walking into a restaurant or a bar dressed in her work clothes, on the arm of the Prince of Wales. She'd had visions of them hounded by the paparazzi, the flash of a million cameras going off in their faces, robbing them entirely of privacy. 

She needn't have worried.

Nick had taken her to a building that overlooked the river Thames. The building itself looked like an expensive apartment block, but was not something you'd turn to look at twice. Its muted exterior was perfect for a quick getaway.

As they rode up in the plush, mirrored lift, Nick explained, "I own a flat here. It's got all the basics, and I like to come down here when I need some space, or privacy." Aisha nodded, trying not to fixate on the last word.

The lift pinged open at the penthouse, and when she stepped out, she gasped. 

Done up in tasteful shades of beige and royal blue, the apartment was indeed fit for royalty. It had luxurious yet understated mahogany woodwork, a flat screen TV, and a modular kitchen. As she looked around, she realised that it was an utterly male den. 

Hooking her heels off her aching feet, she left them in a corner as she walked around, taking in the quiet luxury around her. The French windows opened to a view of the Thames, the indigo sky dotted with diamonds. The sheer white curtains billowed in the breeze, and Aisha savoured the scene, feeling like she was in a movie. 

"Please take a seat," called Nick. Following his voice, Aisha realised he was in the kitchen. 

"I had the staff make some Indian food for you," he said with a small smile, "I hope you like it." 

Looking at the spread laid out on the kitchen table, Aisha's stomach rumbled embarrassingly. There was tandoori chicken, butter naan, pudina chutney, Hyderabadi chicken biryani, and finely sliced onion rings. Nick opened the vast refrigerator, and pulled out a bottle of champagne.

Aisha chucked. It would be the first time she was having champagne with tandoori chicken.

"Shall we begin?" he asked.

Aisha rolled up her sleeves, and said, "Need you ask?"

*

After they had gorged on the various chicken dishes and drank their fill of champagne (Nick had a little trouble tearing the naan with his fingers, but soon picked up after seeing Aisha do it), they stretched across the comfortable sofa, divested of their footwear and inhibitions. Aisha had shrugged off her blazer, and was feeling nice and relaxed in the dimly-lit apartment.

Nick put on some music, and they fell to talking. It was surprisingly easy to talk to him, given the vast difference in their backgrounds. They exchanged notes on their childhood, their schools, their friends, and he even showed her some pictures of his family on his phone- not that she hadn't seen them before on TV. In return, she showed him pictures of her own family- her parents, elder brother and sister, and dog. She told him about her girl gang, and their weekly club outings. She learnt that he was an avid football fan, and he came to know of her undying love for Harry Potter. 

They talked for what felt like hours, and when Aisha glanced at a clock on the wall, she was astonished to see that it was two am. 

"Shit, my friends must be so worried," she said, checking her phone. It had been on silent mode, and she had several missed calls from Rose and Natalie, wondering why she wasn't back at the flat yet.

"I'm sorry, Nick, I need to go home," she said, standing and searching for her jacket. Nick found it, and helped her into it. The feel of his fingertips along her skin set her cheeks ablaze once again.

"I'll drop you home," he said. It wasn't a question.

*

Aisha was far more relaxed on the drive home than she had been when he had picked her up from work. They continued talking, and she found herself genuinely drawn in by his warmth and charisma. There was something frank and unpretentious about him- he seemed utterly unspoilt by all the attention he had received practically since the moment he was born.

When  the car pulled up outside her building, Nick sighed. "It was truly a pleasure to spend time with you, Aisha," he said. "Likewise," said Aisha, giving him a warm smile. He gazed at her for a moment, and then took her hand in his own, kissing her knuckles gently.

"I hope I see you again," he said.