Page 60 of The Only Reason (The Trident Trilogy 2)

Chapter Thirty

Millie

Islamabad, Pakistan

2020

Alex reaches across the table to hold my hand again. I know by the way he’s looking at me the wine has taken control of his body. I unfortunately remember from when we were together that wine makes him really horny.

“Millie,” he says, stroking my hand with his thumb, “I’ve really enjoyed our dinner. Maybe we can continue this conversation with a nightcap upstairs.”

I try to control the disgust that’s surging through my body. We’re in public, and I know I have to stay in my devoted-wife character, but he’s starting to get a little too into this whole thing. It’s getting creepy.

“Why don’t you go up without me? I’m really full. I think I need to take a walk in the gardens to settle my stomach.” I smile as I discreetly slip my hand out of his.

“I don’t know if you should stay down here by yourself,” he says, sitting back in his chair as the waiter hands him the dinner bill to sign. “A stroll in the gardens could be romantic.”

“Actually, I could use some alone time to get my thoughts together,” I say quickly. “And I’ll be fine by myself. The hotel is safe.” And I know Mason will stay behind to watch me. Alex still hasn’t seen him. He’s not nearly as sharp as he used to be, or he’s just off his game because of the wine.

Alex stands up and walks around to pull out my chair. He gives me his hand to help me stand. As I get up, he puts his other arm around my waist and pulls me to him. He kisses my lips softly. It takes every ounce of self-control I have to not punch him. I shove him away. He looks at me—his eyes stern like he’s about to discipline me.

“PDA of any kind is inappropriate in this country. You know that,” I say quietly. “And if you kiss me like that again, I will cut off your balls.”

He takes a quick step back. “I’m just playing the role of your husband, Millie,” he whispers thickly. He smiles and brushes my cheek with his hand. “I’ll see you back up in our room.”

My body shudders from revulsion as I watch him walk away. I walk quickly in the other direction. As I round the corner into the gardens, I close my eyes and inhale the sweet smell of jasmine. The fragrance is intoxicating and relaxing. Exactly what I need right now. I’m just starting to relax when I hear a man clearing his throat behind me. I turn around quickly to find a stranger standing about twenty feet from me.

“Did you know jasmine is the national flower of Pakistan?” he says, smiling.

“I didn’t know that.” I take a step back. “They’re lovely.”

“Some people say jasmine symbolizes purity and modesty, while others say it symbolizes desire and sensuality. It’s mysterious—like a person with two different identities. Don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” I say slowly. “I guess it depends on the person.”

“I find it reminds me of a young woman—possibly born into one life, but living another—searching for her true identity.”

He’s testing me. He definitely wants to tell me something. “Do you know anyone like that?” I take a few steps toward him.

He smiles. “There are many young girls named after the jasmine flower. Yasmine is a very popular name in this region.”

I’m within five feet of him now. The gardens are dimly lit, but I can still see his left eye twitching. “That’s a beautiful name. Any girl would be lucky to have it.”

“Indeed.” I hear a slight quiver in his voice. “Even if she only had it for a few months after she was born.”

The door to his right suddenly opens. A young couple walks out and glances at us briefly. I look back at the man. He’s taken a few steps toward the door.

“Do you work at the hotel?” I say, trying to keep him engaged, but I can see by the worried look in his eyes that the moment has passed.

He smiles and formally bows. “Mrs. Laskin, I forget myself. My apologies. My name is Mr. Bukhari. I am the manager of the hotel spa. If you are free tomorrow, I want to offer you a day at the spa as our welcome gift.”

“That’s so nice of you to offer. I’m not sure I have the entire day free, but I would love to come down for a treatment or two.”

“As you wish,” he says. “We are here to serve you. Shall we say ten in the morning to begin?”

“That sounds perfect. Thank you.”

He bows quickly and disappears under the arches. I have no doubt he knows my mother named me Yasmine. Azayiz worked in the spa. Mr. Bukhari would have been her boss. He knows her. And, more importantly, he knows I’m her niece. I’m considering what to do with this information when I’m suddenly grabbed from behind. A man wraps his arm around my chest—pinning my arms to my sides. He puts his other hand over my mouth as he pulls me out of sight under a waterfall of jasmine vines. I try to step on his foot, but he sidesteps it. I bite down hard on his finger.

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