Chapter 7 Dinner

The taxi smelled like cigarettes, but Aysel had freedom, or at least a temporary escape from the heavy perfume of the ballroom. She sat in the backseat with her knees together, gripping her purse so tightly that her fingers ached. She couldn’t loosen her hold because inside that small bag was the envelope of cash Ruan had forced back on her.

It felt heavy, like a stone. Every bump in the road shifted the envelope against the leather, reminding her that the debt wasn’t settled.

"Where to, miss?" the driver asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror with tired eyes. He probably wondered why a woman in a gold gown that cost more than his car was sitting in his cab alone and shaking.

"I can't go home," Aysel whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them. The thought of entering that silent, cold house and waiting for David to return was unbearable. She couldn’t face him, not yet, and she definitely couldn’t answer the questions he would throw at her about why she ran away or why Ruan Sinclair had looked at her like she was a prize he had already won.

"Take me to 42nd Street," she told the driver, giving him the address of the only place where she didn’t have to pretend to be perfect. "Please, just drive fast."

The city blurred past her window with streaks of red and yellow light, but she could only see Ruan’s face. She remembered the dark intensity in his eyes when he pinned her against the wall, felt the ghost of his thumb tracing her lip, and recalled the terrifying promise he had made.

The game has just started.

She shivered, wrapping her arms around her waist to protect the secret growing inside her. She prayed he hadn’t figured it out. She hoped his questions about her sickness were just guesses, not certainty.

When the taxi finally stopped at the brick apartment building, Aysel threw a crumpled bill at the driver without waiting for change and stumbled onto the wet sidewalk. She didn’t care that her heels were ruining in the puddles or that the rain was spotting her silk dress. She just ran to the door and pressed the buzzer for apartment 4B until her finger turned white.

"Hello?" a voice crackled through the intercom, sounding sleepy and annoyed.

"Mina, it's me," Aysel choked out, leaning her forehead against the cold metal box. "Let me in."

The buzzer buzzed loudly, unlocking the door. Aysel pushed through, climbing the three flights of stairs because the elevator was broken again. By the time she reached the top, she was gasping for air and her heart raced against her ribs, but the door at the end of the hall was already open.

Mina stood there in oversized pajamas and fuzzy socks, her hair was messy. Her expression changed from sleepy to horrified in an instant when she saw Aysel standing there, soaked and trembling in a ballgown.

"Oh my god," Mina gasped, reaching out to pull Aysel inside. "What happened? Did he hurt you? Did David do something?"

She kicked the door shut and led Aysel to the worn sofa cluttered with throw pillows, gently pushing her down before running to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

"I need to get this off," Aysel whispered, her shaking hands fumbling with the zipper at her side. “Please, Mina, help me. It feels like it’s crushing me.”

Mina abandoned the kettle and rushed back. Her hands were gentle as she unzipped the dress and helped Aysel peel the wet, heavy fabric from her skin. Aysel stepped out of the gown and kicked it away like it was a snake, standing there in her slip, shivering in the warm air of the apartment.

Mina wrapped a thick, soft blanket around her shoulders and handed her a mug of tea that she had microwaved because she wasn’t patient enough to wait for the water to boil.

"Talk to me," Mina insisted, sitting on the coffee table to look Aysel in the eye. "You look like you saw a murder."

"I saw him," Aysel said, her voice hollow and strange. She stared into the dark tea, watching the steam rise. "The man from the hotel, the call boy."

Mina’s eyes widened. "He was at the gala? Did he follow you there? Did he try to blackmail you?"

Aysel let out a sound that was half a laugh, half a sob. "He didn't have to follow me, Mina. He was the guest of honor."

She looked up at her best friend, tears finally spilling over her lashes.

"He isn't a call boy," Aysel whispered, the truth tasting like poison. "He is Ruan Sinclair."

Mina froze, her mouth dropping open in pure shock. "Ruan Sinclair? The billionaire? The one David has been trying to get in with for six months?"

Aysel nodded miserably. "He is the investor. He holds David’s future in his hands and I... I treated him like a..."

She couldn’t finish. She buried her face in her hands, shame washing over her in hot waves. She had paid Ruan Sinclair five thousand dollars. She had left him in a hotel room like he was nothing. And now he was back, angry, and dangerously interested in why she had run away.

"Okay," Mina said slowly, trying to process everything. "Okay, so he is rich. That makes things complicated, but maybe it's fine, maybe he won't say anything, he has a reputation to protect too, right?"

Aysel reached for her purse and pulled out the envelope. She tossed it onto the table between them.

"He gave me the money back," she said quietly.

Mina glanced at the envelope, then at Aysel. The silence in the room felt heavy.

"He gave it back?" Mina repeated.

"He cornered me in the hallway," Aysel explained, her voice trembling. "He told me I owe him a debt. He said the money wasn't enough. And Mina... he tried touching my stomach."

Mina gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "He knows?"

"I don't think so," Aysel said, rubbing on her belly, "But he suspects, he sees I'm sick. He knows the timing matches. He looked at me like... like he was trying to solve a puzzle."

"This is bad," Mina muttered, standing up and pacing the small living room. "This is really bad, Aysel. If he finds out the baby is his... men like Ruan Sinclair don’t just walk away. They take what they want and if David finds out..."

"David was practically bowing to him," Aysel said bitterly. "He has no idea, he invited Ruan to our table and even tried to make me drink wine in front of him. Ruan had to stop him, he grabbed David’s wrist and told him to back off."

Mina stopped pacing and looked at Aysel with a strange expression. "He defended you?"

"Yes," Aysel said, confusion swirling in her chest again. "It was terrifying. He was so angry at David, but then he was gentle with me, then he told me to go home and rest and he said the game has just started."

"He is playing with you," Mina warned, her voice serious. "He is a shark, Aysel, he sees that your marriage is weak and he sees that you are vulnerable, and he is going to use that."

Aysel pulled the blanket tighter around herself. She knew Mina was right. Ruan wasn’t a hero rather is a danger but when he touched her, when he looked at her with those dark, possessive eyes, she hadn’t felt like prey. She had felt seen.

"I have to go back," Aysel said, though the thought made her stomach twist. "If I stay here all night, David will know something is wrong. I have to go back to the house and pretend everything is normal."

"You can't go back tonight," Mina said firmly. "You are shaking so you sleep here, we will come up with a lie in the morning. We will say you fainted and I took you to the hospital. David won't care as long as you are alive to stand next to him at the next party."

Aysel nodded, too tired to argue. She curled up on the sofa, listening to the rain tap against the window, but sleep wouldn’t come. She kept seeing Ruan’s face and hearing his voice in the dark.

I am going to find out what you are hiding.

The next morning, the sun was dull, reflecting the dread in Aysel’s chest. She borrowed a pair of jeans and a sweater from Mina, leaving the gold dress in a heap on the floor. Then, she took a taxi back to the suburbs.

The house was quiet when she unlocked the front door. She braced herself for a fight, taking a deep breath and placing a protective hand over her stomach.

But the hallway was empty.

She walked into the kitchen, and the smell of fresh coffee filled the air. David sat at the island, wearing his silk robe while reading something on his tablet.

He looked up when she entered.

He wasn’t angry, he was smiling.

"There you are!" David said, standing and walking over to her. He didn’t ask where she had been or if she was okay. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly, vibrating with excitement. "You missed it, Aysel, you left too early."

"I... I was sick," Aysel stammered, confused by his mood. "Mina took me to her place."

"It doesn’t matter," David dismissed her excuse with a wave of his hand. "Whatever you did, it worked. Maybe playing hard to get was the right move."

Aysel frowned and stepped back from his grip. "What are you talking about?"

"Ruan Sinclair," David said, the name sounding almost sacred on his lips. "He called me this morning personally. He wants to move forward with the investment, he is going to save the company, Aysel. He is going to give us everything we asked for."

Aysel felt the blood drain from her face. Ruan was buying in, he was embedding himself in their lives, he wasn’t walking away.

"That’s... that’s good," she whispered, though it felt like a trap closing around her leg.

"It is better than good," David laughed, walking back to the counter to pour himself more coffee. "But there is a condition, he is a very involved investor. He wants to understand the ‘family values’ behind the company before he signs the final papers."

David turned around, and the smile on his face faltered slightly, replaced by a calculating look.

"He wants to have dinner with us," David said. "Tonight. Here."

Aysel gripped the edge of the granite counter to steady herself. "Here? In our house?"

"Yes," David said. "He was very specific, he said he wants a home-cooked meal, he wants to see how we live."

He walked over to Aysel and brushed a stray hair from her face, his touch cold and possessive.

"So you need to be perfect tonight, Aysel," David warned, his voice dropping. "No headaches, no running away, you are going to cook the best meal of your life, and you are going to be the charming, loving wife I need you to be. Because if you mess this up, if you scare him away..."

He didn’t finish the threat. He didn’t need to.

The doorbell rang.

Aysel jumped, her heart racing. "Who is that? It is only eight in the morning."

David looked at the door, and his smile returned, wider and more nervous than before.

"Oh, I forgot to mention," David said, checking his watch. "Mr. Sinclair said he wanted to start early on the audit. He sent his security team over to do a sweep, but..."

David walked to the door and opened it.

Aysel stood frozen in the kitchen, watching down the long hallway.

It wasn’t a security team.

Ruan Sinclair stood in the doorway. He wore a dark grey suit, no tie, looking fresh, dangerous, and completely out of place in the suburbs. He held a large bouquet of white lilies—the funeral flower, or the flower of apology, depending on who you asked.

He looked past David, straight down the hall, and locked eyes with Aysel.

"Good morning," Ruan said, his voice rumbling through the house. He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, "I hope I am not interrupting breakfast. I just wanted to make sure Mrs. Vance was feeling better."

He walked toward her, and the house suddenly felt very small.

"I brought these for you," Ruan said, stopping right in front of her. He held out the lilies, his eyes sparkling. "I remembered they were your favorite."

Aysel stared at the flowers, she hated lilies. They made her sneeze, but she had told the call boy in the hotel room that she loved them, just a meaningless lie spun in the dark.

He remembered.

He remembered every lie, every truth, every sound she had made.

"Thank you," she whispered, but still not taking the flowers.

Ruan smiled and leaned in close, ignoring her husband standing right behind him.

"I am looking forward to dinner," he murmured, his eyes briefly dropping to his dick. "I have a big appetite, Aysel. I hope you are ready to feed it."