Even my relationship with Eymen is more business-related, with him controlling Turkey for me.
When we arrive home, and I walk into my bedroom, there’s a big square box on my bed. I lift the lid, and seeing shimmering silver fabric, I pull the dress out and hold it up.
My woman has good taste. She’ll look beautiful in this.
Carefully placing the dress back into the box, I take a piece of paper from my stationery drawer and write a short note. Folding the paper in half, I slip it beneath the silver bow on the lid and smile as I pick the box up.
Leaving my bedroom, I head to the lower level and carefully open Lara’s door, so I don’t wake her. I sneak into the room like a damn thief and place the box on the armchair I always sit in.
Moving to the side of the bed, I stare down at her sleeping face. Her arms are wrapped around a pillow, and I wish it was me instead.
Leaning down, I press a soft kiss to her temple.
Desperately needing some rest myself, I steal one more glance of the woman who’s worming her way so deep into my heart that I’m starting to fear I’ll never get her out.
Going back to my bedroom, I shower before climbing into bed. Letting out a sigh, I stare up at the ceiling, my thoughts turning to Lara and how quickly things are changing between us.
It’s no longer just about dominating her.
I care about her.
Admitting my emotions to myself is no easy feat. I’ve never been an emotional person. Fuck, I’ve never been one to care about anything, really. It’s all about facts and money for me.
I love my family, but I’ve never invested in a romantic relationship. It’s not something I needed.
But I find myself in unfamiliar territory, needing Lara. It’s definitely not about sex, seeing as I haven’t fucked her.
Yet.
Our connection is on a much deeper level. My need to control versus her need to be controlled. My sinfulness versus her innocence.
She balances me.
I’ve never seen myself as the kind to settle down, even though my grandmother’s been nagging me. At thirty-eight, there’s just never been a woman I could see myself settling down with.
Could I see myself with Lara? Is it even something she’s ready for?
“Jesus, Gabriel. Get some fucking sleep,” I growl as I turn onto my side. I punch the pillow and let out a huff. “Just take it one day at a time. You don’t have to plan your entire future right now.”
Chapter 33
Lara
Standing in front of the box, I stare down at it.
A gift?
Maybe it’s for Alya Hanim?
Carefully pulling the note from beneath the ribbon, I open it.
Ödülüm,
Wear this for me to the party.
Gabriel.
My eyes dart to the box, and my heart starts to beat faster.
A gift for me.
I sit down on the bed, taking in the beautiful box. It’s black with a leaf pattern all over it. It takes me a moment to process the excitement of receiving my first gift.
I stand up again and kneel in front of the armchair. With trembling fingers, I take the lid off, and then my breath catches in my throat.
Oh my God. It’s the dress from the window display.
I carefully lift the shimmering fabric from the box and hold the beautiful gown in front of me. My eyes start to mist up, and I blink fast.
Climbing to my feet, I quickly undress and step into the gown. I rush to the bathroom and lose my ability to breathe when I see my reflection in the mirror.
I look like Cinderella and not a maid.
But…
Emotions explode in my chest, and a sob bursts over my lips. Covering my face, I crouch down, my shoulders shuddering as sobs tear through me.
“Allah Allah,” Nisa exclaims. She pulls me up into her arms. “Lara, what’s wrong?”
“The dress,” I sob against her shoulder. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Allah Allah, that’s not something to cry about.”
Pulling away from her, I turn around. “I can’t wear it,” I cry, devasted that the one chance I get to wear something so beautiful to a party, the scars on my back ruin it for me.
“Oh.” Nisa places a hand on my back and comes to stand next to me. Giving me a comforting look, she says, “You can borrow one of my shawls. I have a silver and black one that will match the gown.”
My gaze snaps to her, hope unfurling in my chest. “Really?”
“Of course.” Gently she wipes the tears from my cheeks. Her chin quivers. “Stop crying before I join you, and then we won’t get any work done.”
I swallow the tears and turn to look at my reflection in the mirror. The fabric falls softly around my body, and with every movement, it shimmers.
“Did you get the dress yesterday?” Nisa asks as she admires the gown as well.
I shake my head. “It’s a gift.” I swallow hard as my throat threatens to close from the pressure of not crying. “Gabriel gave it to me.”
Nisa’s eyes snap to mine, surprise and hope all over her face. “He did?”
I nod, and no longer able to hide things from her, I admit, “I really like him, Nisa Hanim.” I brush a hand over the expensive fabric. “I think I’m falling in love for the first time.”
Nisa’s face crumbles, and I’m yanked into a tight hug. “Does he return your feelings?”
I nod against her shoulder. “I think so.”
“Allah Allah, this is a great blessing.” She pushes me back by my shoulders. “Tomorrow, I’ll style your hair and help you with your makeup. You’ll be the most beautiful woman at the party.”
I nod, and laughter bubbles over my lips. “I can’t wait.”
She pushes me back into the bedroom. “Change so we can get to work. The family will arrive at ten am. We need to have everything ready.”
I wait for Nisa to leave the room, then carefully step out of the gown. I let it hang against my closet door, so I can see it whenever I’m in the room.
I quickly dress in a pair of light blue jeans and a soft cream sweater, then slip on the black ballet flats again. I rush through my morning routine before hurrying to the kitchen.
I’m so busy, time flies. As I place a tray of baklava on a cooling rack, Nisa comes into the kitchen, grumbling, “They’re already driving me insane.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, in no hurry to meet them.
“Nisa Hanim, this. Nisa Hanim, that,” she keeps grumbling.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
She gives me a pleading look. “Will you take tea to them? They’re in the sitting room with Alya Hanim.”
“Of course.” I quickly prepare the tray and give Nisa a cup so she can rest while I tend to the guests.
When I enter the east wing, I hear a burst of loud laughter. I don’t understand what’s being said as they’re speaking Turkish.
The moment I walk into the sitting room, the conversation stops. I glance at the two women, noticing their features are much darker than Alya’s. They have curly black hair, dark brown eyes, and it looks like they’ve been in the sun for days.
“Bu kadın kim?” The older woman asks.
“This is Lara,” Alya Hanim answers. “Lara, this is Gabriel’s aunt and cousin, Ayesenur Hanim and Eslem.”
“No Turkish?” Ayesenur Hanim asks.