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She slipped out of her clothing and headed for the shower. She had been very aware of the situation she’d been walking into. She had gotten to create gloriously beautiful rooms, like the west wing ballroom and the grand dining room, but she had let Aziz into her heart. She’d known she would, in spite of all the reasons not to. The fact that both of them had nearly died before reaching puberty wasn’t enough to build a relationship on.
Laine washed as she thought it over. She kept thinking as she dressed in fresh clothing, a T-shirt and jeans from home, and as she began to straighten up her room and pack.
By the time she approached Aziz’s office again, she had decided. This time, she didn’t wait. She simply announced herself and told him that her time here was finished.
Aziz rose and strode over to her quickly with alarm in his eyes. “You cannot leave. The job isn’t finished!”
“I never said I’d been here a month. I said I would come to get the feel of the palace, and I have. And I said I would begin the planning while I was here, and I’ve done that, too. There’s no point in my staying here any longer.” Laine lifted her chin. “I have a life back in New York, Aziz.”
Aziz’s brows screwed together as he took in her words. Then, his jaw tensed and he clenched one hand. “It is a sad life, Laine. A life with a job working under a pitiful man!”
“I don’t see the difference anymore,” Laine said coldly.
Aziz opened his mouth to argue, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Finally he managed, his volume increasing with each word: “I have taken you into my home. I have afforded you every luxury. I have given you the opportunity of a lifetime!”
“And I have worked for you and tolerated your indecision, but that is over now.”
“It’s over!” Aziz laughed. “You say that it’s over!”
“I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning!”
“No you will not!” Aziz shouted.
“Do you plan to keep me here in chains?” Laine demanded. “Do you plan to slap me around like you do your brother?”
“I—” Aziz sputtered. “Of course not! I would never, Laine. I lo— But you mustn’t go. Not yet. I can arrange—”
“This isn’t about making arrangements anymore. It’s about taking risks and making choices.” Laine sighed. “I’ll make sure that your renovations progress at a good pace. I’ll keep this professional, if you promise to do the same.”
Aziz stared at her for a moment, his usually affable expression growing harsher and colder by the second.
“Go then. Go wallow in obscurity. Go back to your lonesome life,” he hissed.
Laine took a breath and leveled her gaze at him. “I’ll get a cat.”
Chapter Thirteen
Though it had never bothered her before, two days back in New York and Laine realized that the city was a cold, small place. The shops were cramped and the doorways low. At five-nine, she felt towering and gawky again, and felt her hair brushing the top of the doorway into her apartment building. Having been so consumed by work, Laine had never considered that part of the reason she didn’t want to go out every weekend was that she didn’t fit very well.
Laine couldn’t regret choosing to come back, though. Although she missed him already, she couldn’t force Aziz to want something more with her, and the leniency that Mr. Brandt had extended to her was stretched to the breaking point. He hadn’t seemed all that pleased when she’d returned to her office, either, even though his portion of Aziz’s account could probably put his degenerate son through college.
But she’d given up on expecting anything that resembled gratitude or loyalty from him. She’d also given up on seeming anything other than coldly professional in the office. The tension was not something she was wild about, but it was inevitable for the moment. Half of her coworkers thought she should’ve been fired, and half seemed to be in awe of the work she’d been doing on the palace—and the money that had come flooding in as a result. Rumors about how she had been luring in clients had been floating around the office like a malignancy; the results of this were also mixed. She’d expected that video of her dancing with Aziz would be nothing but trouble, but apparently it had raised some people’s estimation of her.
Her first weekend back, after a long week of fighting to get things done in the office, Laine decided to drive upstate to see her father rather than wither in her apartment, missing the warm sun and Aziz’s warm arms.
“Well, babydoll, you look great!” Greg set a cup of tea in front of his eldest daughter and sat down across the little table from her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya this tan! Emma, maybe, but she sprays that on, right?”
