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“Oh, Mr. Ramadan,” she beamed. “Thank you. The nurse is in with him now, and he may fall asleep soon after he gets his shots, but I’ll be back later.”
“I can see my son will be in good hands,” he said and patted her shoulder. “I think I need to get back home now too. I barely slept a wink last night.”
“I’ll see you later Sir,” she said and smiled.
After the man had gone Jameela stood there for a few seconds facing Al-Hafeez’s room. So much had happened between them, and in so little time. Things were about to change once more, only this time, she was ready for it.
CHAPTER 9
Al-Hafeez was in the hospital for an entire week. He was still limping when he emerged from the room with his father. Jameela had grown so accustomed to the strong man who walked around commanding the attention of everyone he met that she had to adjust her mental lenses to accept the image before her.
“Are you ready to get out of here, or would you still like to be waited on?” she asked as he got closer to her.
“Sure, I’d like to stay here,” he replied sarcastically. “Nothing like being waited on by hospital staff and be fed mush.”
Jameela laughed at his response and held onto his arm. His father had the other one and they helped the titan to his car. He seemed relieved to get out of there, and he stared out the window, his mind seemingly drifting like the dust left in their wake. “Are you alright?” she asked him.
“Mmm,” was his response, but he kept his eyes away from her.
She raised her brow at his odd reply, but she didn’t challenge it any further. He had been his usual self over the week, and she had been to see him every day since the attack. His face bore only superficial marks now, which would disappear soon enough. But it seemed something plagued him now he wasn’t ready yet to disclose. She understood the emotional turmoil that he must be dealing with. Or not. Men oftentimes dealt with emotions in a strange way.
Just then the car turned into the long driveway, and came to an eventual stop at the fountain. The chauffeur assisted him out, since he could more easily match his strength, and Al-Hafeez fell clumsily on his bed when he arrived there. His father left them alone, after telling him how glad he was to have him back home. He lumbered to the bathroom, where he washed what appeared to be the essence of the hospital from him. When he returned he was smiling once more, and she sighed contentedly. Maybe her mind had just been playing tricks on her.
“So,” he said as he moved closer to her. He lifted her face with his index finger, and brought her eyes to his. “It’s been some time since I’ve tasted you.” And without another word, he brought his lips down on hers. There was an urgency in the way he pulled her to him, and his breathing began to intensify as he groped her.
Jameela’s head began to spin as she responded to him, and she swooned as his energy electrified her and rendered her weak. She felt his hands move down her side, to her hips, and soon he cupped her buttocks, and pressed her into him. He started moving back slowly to the bed, and she was acutely aware of his present intentions.
“Wait,” she said and pressed her hand against his chest. It took her some doing to resist his urges, and she stepped back and pinched her lips. “You just got home. Maybe you need to rest a bit.”
“I’ve been resting for a week,” he told her and reached for her again.
“You’re not strong enough,” she said and dodged his grasp. “Let’s just get you back on your feet again.”
He tried still to pull her to him, and as he lunged after her, he winced, proving her to be correct. He groaned angrily and tensed on the spot.
She moved forward to assist him, but he shrugged her off and went over to the bed. She stood there, uncertain of what to do as he grew still. It became apparent he was no longer in a sociable or sexual mood, and that she had overstayed her welcome.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” she said. He didn’t respond, and she saw herself out. She had never been privy to that side of him before. But then again, she didn’t really know him at all. He had spent only one night with her before, and she wasn’t quite sure of the label she could assign to their peculiar relationship.
When she got home, she felt exhausted. It was late in the evening, and she was grateful she didn’t need to return to the office. She was slipping off her heels when she heard the phone ring. Maybe he was calling to apologize for being so short with her before. She grew anxious as she searched for the phone among the rubble in her bag. When she found it, she saw that it wasn’t him at all.
“Hey Mansi,” she replied.
“Are you home?” she asked.
“Yeah, I just got in,” she replied. She wiped her hand over her face and then stooped to retrieve her shoes.
“So, how is everything?” the girl asked, curious to know what was happening with the Sheikh.
“If by that you mean if Al-Hafeez is alright, he is,” she replied flatly.
Her response was not lost on Mansi. “That doesn’t sound so good,” she said.
“Don’t read too much into it,” Jameela told her. “He just got home and is sort of still in recovery mode. He will be himself in no time.”
“If you say so,” the girl replied.
Little did Jameela know how ironic her statement had been. The next few days proved just how much Al-Hafeez had relapsed into his former ways. His egoistical ways had fully returned, and he began to grow even more condescending.
