Page 85 of Written By a Woman

“Then that’s his loss,” Mary crossed her arms, “He’s allowed to be upset about you writing a book about him without his knowledge, if that’s how he chooses to react. But you can’t have it all, Signe. You can continue to date him or keep the book a secret from him. You can’t do both. That’s just weird.”

I groaned before leaning back in my chair and swiveling back and forth.

Mary studied her chipped black nail polish while I let her words settle around me.

The elevator doors dinged, and the man himself waltzed through.

Zaid had his phone to his ear, but that didn’t stop him from smiling at me and nodding his head at Mary as he passed my desk on the way to his office.

Once Zaid finally turned the corner out of sight, Mary leveled me with a look, “You need to tell him at some point. Unless you plan on ending this relationship with him and ghosting him, of course.”

I frowned at her words, my mind spiraling around her words before I breathed out, “I want him.”

Mary shrugged, standing from her seat on my desk and rubbing my shoulder as she passed by me, “Then grow a pair of ovaries, own up to your choices.”

She was right, of course.

I needed to come clean to Zaid about my current career goals. Hopefully, secure that written consent from him so Michelle could give it to anyone who bites.

I was just hoping to have a little more time with him before I needed to face the consequences of my actions.

For now, I wanted to focus on other things.

Like the fact that tonight I was going out with Zaid again.

He had texted me to ask if the restaurant he had in mind was a good option for me or not. I agreed because Indian food was always a fun choice. Learning what amount of spice the two of us could tolerate, and also loading up on naan, sounded like a fun time with a man like Zaid Ansara.

I was at my desk, gently trailing my fingers along the thick leaves of the snake plant he gave me, when the doors to the elevator dinged and two women approached.

One was around my height, an older woman with olive-toned skin and dark hair and eyes. A beauty mark on the side of her lip. She had a very lean form and wore pressed slacks and a silk blouse with bracelets on her wrists. A colorful (and probably expensive) necklace completed her outfit. She had her arm looped through another woman closer to my age with the prettiest caramel colored hair I had ever seen. It reminded me of Jacqueline’s, though it was clear that where Jacqueline had natural caramel highlights from the sun, this woman had colored her hair for the same effect.

She also had dark eyes with long thick eyelashes, and her lip color was a fun light shade of pink. She also wore slacks and a blouse, as if the two women came from the same place.

“Good morning,” I glanced at the clock on my computer to ensure that it was, still in fact, morning, “How can I help you?” I smiled at the two women who approached my desk. The older woman rested her free hand on the ledge of my desk.

“Is Mr. Ansara busy?” she asked with a polite smile of her own.

I turned towards my computer, opening his schedule, “It looks like he is in a lot of meetings all afternoon, but there is a thirty-minute window before lunch,” I checked the time again to confirm that that free window was in the next few minutes, “I can call him and see if he’s available—”

“Could you let him know his mother is here?” She interrupted me, patting her hand on the arm of the woman she escorted through the elevators, “I have someone I want him to meet.”

I hesitated, just for a moment, as I realized a couple of things seemingly all at once.

I was speaking to Mama Ansara, the woman who cooked my lunches for the past few weeks and raised the man I was going out with later tonight.

The second thing I noticed was that the woman Mama Ansara had her arm looped through looked very nervous and almost uncomfortable. The younger woman gave me a small smile as I took her in, brushing some of her shiny hair behind her ear as a blush stained her cheeks.

“Oh, um, yes,” I nodded as I grabbed my desk phone and dialed the extension to Zaid’s office. Part of me hoped he wouldn’t answer, because even though I had very little evidence to support my claim, I was instantly feeling very territorial of the CTO.

Nikhils words from a while back started ringing in my head,she is desperate for him to find a woman to bring home.

And even though this woman looked visibly uncomfortable, as if Mama Ansara had dragged her here under duress, I couldn’t help but notice how entirely different she and I were. She was shorter than me, had a petite frame, and dark hair that probably required a hair care routine I could only dream of affording. Her olive-toned skin was flawless, and her makeup looked like it was applied by professionals. Even her professional attire was flattering, and I couldn’t help but glance down at my sweatshirt and jeans combo which ended up being the equivalent of my work uniform most days.

This was the kind of woman Mama Ansara picked out for her son.

It was unsettling to note.

“Signe,” Zaid’s voice sounded through the phone, and I jumped a little in my seat because I hadn’t expected him to be on speaker. I removed the phone from my ear and gently set it down on my desk as I replied.

---