Page 41 of Oliver
That was the one body part that could never be involved when it came to Zahra.Never.
I couldn’t afford the potential destruction. I needed to focus on the trust documents. Specifically, the codicil that should have protected our grandparents' house for Emmet and me. If I could access the original paperwork, prove the trust had been violated…
I ran a hand through my wet hair. It was the only thing that mattered.
I opened the bathroom door, my mind still fixated on legal documents, when a sharp intake of breath startled me.
I froze.Shit.
Zahra stood by the closet, in her hands a floral cocktail dress half off its hanger, her eyes wide as they trailed down my chest, lingering on my abs before snapping back up to my face. A red hue colored her cheeks, and she quickly looked away.
I was still frozen, unable to avert my gaze.So, this is what it feels like to witness a stellar collision in real time.
"Sorry, I'm… I…" she stammered, looking everywhere but at me. "Fuck…” Her fingers curled into the fabric of the dress, her breathing coming in shallow, almost panicked pants. “I'm honestly not sure what I should have done differently to avoidthe situation, but..." Her eyes flicked back to me, widening a fraction more, the red coloring her cheeks becoming a few shades deeper, before she snapped her gaze back to the garment in her hand. "Shit. I’m Sorry."
"No, I should have—" I started but stopped when I realized she was shaking her head vehemently, practically begging me to magically disappear. At least we were on the same page there.
"I’ll just—" Zahra whispered, gesturing vaguely at the room. "I need to get ready for dinner."
She took the dress out and walked toward the bathroom with her chin tucked to her chest, eyes on the carpet, and that’s when I realized I was in her trajectory. But it was too late.
Zahra almost bumped into me, the collision prevented only because I reached out, letting her shoulders bump into my palms instead of a full body clash.
Only, without my hand holding it up, the towel slipped slightly. Her sharp intake of breath told me she noticed, which meant she was still watching. I quickly grabbed the towel, securing it, and we did an awkward dance trying to pass each other, both stepping the same way twice before I finally backed against the wall to let her through.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, rushing away from me.
Once alone, I cursed my stupidity. I was a professional, dammit. I didn't make rookie mistakes like not bringing clothes into the bathroom. But Zahra was a gravitational anomaly, a distortion in the expected pattern caused by an unseen mass.
The mass being between my legs, and despite his best attempts, he would remain unseen.
I dressed efficiently, trying to recalibrate. The county records office. The trust violation. The house. Those were my priorities.
By the time Zahra emerged from the bathroom, I'd regained my composure.
"Ready?" I asked, not quite meeting her eyes.
She nodded, her hair still damp at the edges, her scent—jasmine and something uniquely her—filling the space between us.
We made our way to the hotel's rooftop terrace in silence, the tension from our morning entanglement and the bathroom encounter hovering like a phantom planet.
The evening was already in full swing. String lights crisscrossed overhead, bartenders served signature cocktails, and professionally dressed waitstaff circulated with trays of hors d'oeuvres. Zahra had outdone herself, and this was just a casual wedding party event.
"My parents." Zahra pointed, her hand finding mine in a gesture that had become as natural as breathing. "We should say hello."
I let her guide me through the terrace, fingers entwined. This was fine. Professional. Just playing our roles.
Mina embraced her daughter warmly before turning her affection on me. "Oliver, you're looking especially handsome tonight."
"Thank you, Mrs. Nazarian."
"Mina," she corrected, an amused smile playing on her lips despite the scolding tone, then she turned back to Zahra with a mischievous grin I recognized well from all the time Zahra herself had teased me. "He’s impossible, this one."
Zahra matched her mother’s playful vibe with ease.
“So set in his ways.” She sighed, leaning her head on my shoulder. “There’s just so much politeness and gentlemanly behavior a girl can stand.”
“If you’re so tired of him, I’ll take him off your hands,” Zahra’s father interjected, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. “Go on, you two, take yourharf-e moftelsewhere.”
