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“I’ll request dinner to be served in half an hour,” he replied with a bow of his head.
She didn’t respond. Slipping past him, she retrieved her clothes, stepped into the bathroom, and closed the door. She leaned against the door, staring blindly ahead as she tried to push down the panic threatening to choke her.
Marriage!
Girls like her didn’t marry men like Junayd. Hell, most of the time girls like her didn’t marry at all. She grimaced when the little voice of reason tried to point out that both Aimee and Idella were marrying princes.
Aimee is marrying the guy who will one day be a king!her good voice argued.
I don’t care! Aimee isn’t a killer. I am. Harlem made sure of that!she snapped back.
She looked at her reflection and lifted her hand to trace the scar on her cheek. As she traced it with her fingers, she remembered how Junayd had done the same thing, only with his lips. Haunted, dark brown eyes mockingly stared back at her.
This is not the face of a princess.
Turning away from her reflection, she took a quick shower. Her mind churned with what she needed to do. Junebug was looking for Jameel. She would find her sister, convince Junebug to come back to New York with her, and continue on with her life as usual.
And if Junebug doesn’t want to come back with you? What will you do then?
Her gaze flew to the mirror again as that thought swept through her mind. Junebug’s desire for her to live her fairy tale flashed through her mind. Unexpected anger swept through her.
“There are no such things as fairy tales,” she scoffed.
Her lip curled, pulling on her scar and turning her mocking smile into a self-depreciative sneer. She had made plenty of mistakes in her short life and she would probably make more. The one good thing was, she was smart enough to recognize them and not let them happen again.
“If Junebug doesn’t want to come home, then… so be it. She’s right. She has the right to live her own life. I’ve done what I can,” she told her reflection as she adjusted a blood-red and black scarf across the lower half of her face.
Rebuilding the wall of icy disdain around her heart, she exited the bathroom. The bedroom was empty. She didn’t look at the rumpled sheets. Making love to Junayd was no longer an option. She would deal with the fallout if she was pregnant… and if she wasn’t, then she would thank the powers above for dodging that bullet and focus on her next job.
Fifteen
Junayd stood up from the table for two when Midnight entered the cabin. A flare of concern shot through him when he saw her wearing the scarf across the lower half of her face. The steward appeared, waiting for her to take her seat. She looked around and he took a guess as to what she was searching for.
“My bodyguards are at the front of the plane,” he said.
She gave a curt nod and sank into the seat across from him. The steward came closer and smiled. She dipped her head in greeting.
“Dinner will be served in just a moment. Would you care for a drink?” he asked.
“Water, please,” she requested.
Junayd raised an eyebrow. “No wine… or something stonger?” he inquired.
She shook her head. “I don’t drink. It rots your brain and slows your responses. Both will get me killed,” she replied.
He glared back at her with a look of disapproval. “Your current job should no longer be a factor. You are hardly likely to rot your brain or slow your responses here on the plane,” he pointed out.
“It’s best not to get into the habit. Ask your bodyguards. I’m sure they would tell you the same thing.”
The steward returned with their dinners. The fragrant aroma surrounded them when the steward lifted the silver covers. Midnight pressed her hand to her stomach when it growled.
“I didn’t realize I was so hungry,” she said, not looking at him.
He leaned forward and covered her hand when she moved to pick up her fork. She curled her fingers under his palm and silently shook her head.
“Don’t do this, Junayd.”
She looked up at him. The haunted expression had returned to her eyes. He reached over and unhooked the scarf covering her face with his other hand.
