parts of her she didn't think he had ever noticed before. Noting her flaws, she suspected.
"You are an excellent kisser. Yet you are nervous. Why?"
"I don't know." She fought the urge to add 'Your Highness.' She didn't say it, but she couldn't bring herself to call him by his name, either. "I don't know why everyone else can do this but not me. There's something wrong with me."
"As I have told you earlier tonight, you are beautiful."
"I mean there's something wrong inside me," she clarified. "But thank you."
"There is also nothing wrong inside you. You are just shy, I think." He said it clinically, like he said most things. "Though why that is, I do not know."
That was easy enough. "Oh, I know why. Daliya and Komal outshine me. It's been easy to hide behind them. When I was in high school, the few boys who were interested in me... well, they stopped being interested once they saw my sisters. Or when my father growled. So there wasn't much point."
"Young men are fools."
She appreciated his attempt at support, and refrained from telling him it wasn't just young men who thought her a sexless piece of the furniture. She'd never cared, until him. With Javad, it cut like a rusty scalpel in the hands of a drunken surgeon.
"I can't blame everyone else. Maybe I found it easier to be shy than to get rejected. It's a useful defense mechanism for a fragile ego. Also—" She circled her index finger over the front of her dress. "These."
They both looked at her chest. It wasn't much to speak of. Or even whisper about.
"Those," he said, in a tone that gave her zero clue as to what he was thinking.
She poured champagne down her throat. There was something strange about the way it tasted, and her buzz was fading. She resisted a sigh. He'd given her non-alcoholic champagne. Either he wanted her to change her mind or his brother didn't like his dates drunk. Javad did not want to make this easy on her.
"Small," she said.
"Compared to your sisters, yes. But I am certain my brother wants to see them." He paused for a beat. "Very much."
Who cares? I want you to want to see them. She pushed the thought out of her mind. Getting Javad to notice her was off the table now, and always had been. One kiss was all she'd ever have.
"Why are you rushing into this tonight, Arya?"
She didn't hold back an unladylike snort. She couldn't tell him the truth, of course, that if she continued thinking about him, day and night, her mind would crack. He would know if she lied, though. Luckily, she had another stressor to share. "Seems like Sheikh Zakharias is going to offer for me."
Javad visibly stiffened, a stunning display of emotion for him, and confusing for her. What did he care about Zakharias? "Your father is not considering this."
Her father? She narrowed her eyes at him.
"He might be. My stepmother definitely is. But I'm the most important factor here, remember?"
"And you want to sleep with a young man before you decide if you will throw yourself to the dogs." Contempt splattered Javad's tone.
"He's rich. I could have my own home. No one else is stepping up to the plate. There are lots of advantages." I could stay near you , she didn’t say.
"But no love," he pointed out.
Love. The word, from his lips, set her heart pounding. Her throat constricted, tingled with emotion. Tiny needles prickled her eyes, warning of tears. She made an effort to treat him like the friend that he was, changing the subject in the process.
"I nearly slept with Jimmie deLuca, you know. He was the only boy I was ever horizontal on a bed with. His hand was..." She'd never even told her sisters this. How could she? It wasn't their fault they were gorgeous and outgoing while she had all these hang-ups. "Well, it was down my jeans. And he whispered a name in my ear."
"But not your name." A statement. Not a question.
"Nope," she confirmed. "Not my name."
"So now you chose a man who barely knows your name." His midnight eyes gave her no place to hide, made her
"You are an excellent kisser. Yet you are nervous. Why?"
"I don't know." She fought the urge to add 'Your Highness.' She didn't say it, but she couldn't bring herself to call him by his name, either. "I don't know why everyone else can do this but not me. There's something wrong with me."
"As I have told you earlier tonight, you are beautiful."
"I mean there's something wrong inside me," she clarified. "But thank you."
"There is also nothing wrong inside you. You are just shy, I think." He said it clinically, like he said most things. "Though why that is, I do not know."
That was easy enough. "Oh, I know why. Daliya and Komal outshine me. It's been easy to hide behind them. When I was in high school, the few boys who were interested in me... well, they stopped being interested once they saw my sisters. Or when my father growled. So there wasn't much point."
"Young men are fools."
She appreciated his attempt at support, and refrained from telling him it wasn't just young men who thought her a sexless piece of the furniture. She'd never cared, until him. With Javad, it cut like a rusty scalpel in the hands of a drunken surgeon.
"I can't blame everyone else. Maybe I found it easier to be shy than to get rejected. It's a useful defense mechanism for a fragile ego. Also—" She circled her index finger over the front of her dress. "These."
They both looked at her chest. It wasn't much to speak of. Or even whisper about.
"Those," he said, in a tone that gave her zero clue as to what he was thinking.
She poured champagne down her throat. There was something strange about the way it tasted, and her buzz was fading. She resisted a sigh. He'd given her non-alcoholic champagne. Either he wanted her to change her mind or his brother didn't like his dates drunk. Javad did not want to make this easy on her.
"Small," she said.
"Compared to your sisters, yes. But I am certain my brother wants to see them." He paused for a beat. "Very much."
Who cares? I want you to want to see them. She pushed the thought out of her mind. Getting Javad to notice her was off the table now, and always had been. One kiss was all she'd ever have.
"Why are you rushing into this tonight, Arya?"
She didn't hold back an unladylike snort. She couldn't tell him the truth, of course, that if she continued thinking about him, day and night, her mind would crack. He would know if she lied, though. Luckily, she had another stressor to share. "Seems like Sheikh Zakharias is going to offer for me."
Javad visibly stiffened, a stunning display of emotion for him, and confusing for her. What did he care about Zakharias? "Your father is not considering this."
Her father? She narrowed her eyes at him.
"He might be. My stepmother definitely is. But I'm the most important factor here, remember?"
"And you want to sleep with a young man before you decide if you will throw yourself to the dogs." Contempt splattered Javad's tone.
"He's rich. I could have my own home. No one else is stepping up to the plate. There are lots of advantages." I could stay near you , she didn’t say.
"But no love," he pointed out.
Love. The word, from his lips, set her heart pounding. Her throat constricted, tingled with emotion. Tiny needles prickled her eyes, warning of tears. She made an effort to treat him like the friend that he was, changing the subject in the process.
"I nearly slept with Jimmie deLuca, you know. He was the only boy I was ever horizontal on a bed with. His hand was..." She'd never even told her sisters this. How could she? It wasn't their fault they were gorgeous and outgoing while she had all these hang-ups. "Well, it was down my jeans. And he whispered a name in my ear."
"But not your name." A statement. Not a question.
"Nope," she confirmed. "Not my name."
"So now you chose a man who barely knows your name." His midnight eyes gave her no place to hide, made her
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