All I know is that with every night I sleep atop of him, I get closer to the man everyone is afraid to talk to, let alone come within his vicinity.
I haven’t stopped thinking about the words he told me the other day. The fact that I’m the first person to share his bed.
Surely Alicia used to? But then again, they did have separate rooms. Just like he and I did in those first couple of months.
Maybe Alicia never demanded to enter his room in the first place.
A man like Jonathan doesn’t give in without being coerced into something, or at least being given all the right reasons to go through with it.
That’s why I decided to go one step further today. In the morning, he laid me on his thighs and spanked my arse red for what I asked of him. My behind still burns and is marked with his handprint, but it was worth it.
I demanded we eat out. Not in the confinement of the house, where he sits me on his lap.
And I get to choose the place, so no fancy restaurants either. Those are his playground, not mine, and I need all the power I can get tonight.
“Going out for a kebab is your grand plan?” He glares down his nose at the place with that irritating conceit of his.
“Hey! This place is world-famous. Tourists come over here for Layla’s parents’ kebab. You’re lucky I put in a word for us.”
“Fascinating.”
It’s his snobbish ‘fascinating’. He can be the most infuriating snob sometimes.
With his black suit and sharp features, he appears like he belongs on a GQ magazine cover, not in a commoners’ restaurant.
I’m wearing a simple blue dress that stops a little above my knees. Layla bought it for me without a reason last month, saying it brings out my eye colour, and I haven’t had a chance to wear it until today.
My hair falls down my back and I’ve put on red lipstick. Something that had Jonathan stare at my lips when I descended the stairs earlier.
I consider that a job well done.
I grab him by the sleeve of his jacket and pull him to a corner so we don’t block the entrance. “Listen, Layla’s family is the only family I have. I will not forgive you if you offend them in any way.”
“If you want me to do something, ask nicely.”
“Please.”
His lips tilt in a small smile. “Good girl.”
I try to ignore the flush that covers my skin under the dress and clear my throat. “Is that a yes?”
“I’ll consider it.”
“Finally!” Layla peeks her head from the entrance, an apron wrapped around her waist. They must be really busy if she’s helping out. “Why are you guys lurking in the corner? I had to kick Sam from next door out to protect your table.”
“Sorry, Lay.” I straighten.
“Black Belt,” Jonathan greets blankly.
“Johnny,” she mimics his tone.
“A business owner, a karate belt, and now a waitress. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Strangling billionaires. But I’m thinking about adding that to my resume.”
I burst out laughing and she does, too. Jonathan merely narrows his eyes as we follow her.
The Hussaini restaurant has gotten a lot of renovations during the years I’ve known Layla. It’s a traditional one that serves North African and Pakistani recipes. Their speciality is the kebab and couscous, which I love to death and always bug Kenza to give me takeouts, even though she says it needs to be ‘decorated’ right.
There’s a homey feel to the restaurant and its cosy decor with Moroccan cushions and traditional colourful Tunisian carpets. Each table is half-obscured from the other with thin curtains. There are spaces fit for sitting on the floor and the others have tables with cushions instead of chairs surrounding them. The soft white lights add a certain type of ambience, a peaceful one.
The word ‘Halal’ is written in both English and Arabic at the top of the reception area.
I lower my head to avoid getting caught in the curtains, whereas Jonathan simply pushes them out of his way. He’s such a tyrant who doesn’t appreciate beauty.
“Aurora.” We’re stopped by the voice of Malik, Layla’s lawyer brother and the only other Hussaini sibling currently living in England.
He’s a lot taller than his sister, has brown skin like his father, and inherited the striking hazel eye colour of his mother. His body is fit and muscular, and I always thought he was hot as sin.
Only from afar, though. Because he’s my best friend’s brother and I didn’t want to lose her, which I would’ve if her brother had ever found out how much of a mess I actually am.
So I usually just settle with harmless flirting.
“Malik, how are you doing?” I smile.
“I’m brilliant. How about you?”
“Great. Is it just me or did you gain some muscles?”
“Totes, mate,” Layla offers on his behalf. “He’s been slaving at the gym.”
“Stop talking like a gangster, Layla,” he tells her.
She makes a face at him, but he ignores her and focuses back on me. “How have you been, Aurora? You haven’t come around in a while.”
“I’ve been kind of busy.”
“With what?”
“With me.” Jonathan wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me to his side in one firm grip that offers no room for movement. He then offers his hand to Malik. “Jonathan King.”
“Malik Hussaini.” He shakes Jonathan’s hand with the same firmness.
I’m kind of impressed that he didn’t cower in front of Jonathan’s god-like presence. He must know who he is — everyone in this country does — but he’s not intimidated by him. God, I knew there was a reason why I loved Layla and her family.
“Don’t be a stranger, Aurora,” Malik says as he releases Jonathan’s hand and grins at me.
I nod in response.
Layla leads us to a table at the back. One of those with chairs, thank God. I can’t imagine Jonathan sitting cross-legged on the floor. He’d probably leave before doing so.
She gives us menus. “I’ll come back in a few. Oh, and, Johnny. Mum and Dad say thank you for the donation you made the other day.”
He barely nods in her direction, focusing on the menu. His face is blank, completely unreadable.
While that might appear good on the outside, it actually isn’t.
Jonathan is the type who becomes eerily quiet when he’s either calculating or angry, and both are bad news.
“Remember,” I say. “No alcohol or pork. They don’t serve those here.”
“I have Muslim associates. I know their dietary laws.”
“I’m just saying in case you didn’t know.”
“You seem to be well versed in this restaurant,” he’s speaking to me, but his attention is still on the menu.
“Yeah, I come here all the time.” Hell, before I knew him, all my dinners and weekends were spent here.
His piercing eyes pin me down. “To not be a stranger.”
Oh. God. It’s about Malik.
Now it’s my turn to focus on the menu. “Kind of.”
“Do you also wear red lipstick when you come here?”
“Most of the time.” Never. I only started to wear it regularly since I noticed Jonathan’s interest — or rather, obsession — with it.