by Holly Rayner
SEVEN
The next morning began with familiar steps as Amie made her way from her bedroom back downstairs to the kitchen. After her late-night rendezvous with Malik, she’d slept in well after 11am, and jumped up, dressing quickly as soon as she realized what time it was.
The smell of cooking hit her as soon as her feet touched the tiled floor. The house was even more majestic in the light of day than she remembered; the kitchen was beyond large, with marble countertops, elaborate ceiling carvings, and a kitchen island with two stainless steel sinks embedded in it. Pendant lights hung from the ceiling, illuminating the way to the feast that awaited her.
Staring at the counter, Amie nearly salivated, and was only interrupted when Malik came up behind her, wearing navy blue dress pants and a button-up shirt. Despite having been up just as long, if not longer, than her, he looked perfectly rested.
He reached his hand up and scratched his shoulders, smiling bashfully. “No hello this morning?” he asked.
She eyed her fake fiancé playfully, raising her brow uncertainly.
“You walked right by me at the staircase,” he explained.
Amie blushed as she walked to the kitchen island and began thumbing through the delectable dishes before her. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you!”
“Momentary lapse in judgment on my part,” he smiled. “Should have guessed you’d go straight for the kitchen.”
Her heart fluttered suddenly. Damn him for being so cute and sarcastic.
He approached, handing her a plate and a fork before moving to where the food was laid out. “I made breakfast,” he said and began pointing to the various items. “It’s a traditional Middle-Eastern breakfast. We have freshly-made pita bread, hummus, hard boiled eggs, olives, pickles, tomato and cucumber salad, fresh jams and cheeses. Take your pick.”
“You’re not saying you made all this?” Amie laughed in disbelief. “You must have a personal chef, or something, right?”
“What can I say? I like to cook,” he said simply.
“You’re kidding.”
“What else does an insomniac do in the early morning hours?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I usually just curl into the fetal position hoping I’ll magically fall asleep. But hey, that’s me.”
Amie began piling food onto her plate and licked her finger after dipping it into the hummus. “Let me get this straight,” she said with some suspicion, “You guys have pickles… for breakfast?”
“It’s a wild world we live in,” he mocked.
“Clearly.” She hopped atop the counter and set her plate on her lap, hungrily devouring the food she had chosen as Malik snacked on a hardboiled egg and grabbed a spoonful of fruit. “That’s all you’re having?!”
He raised his brows and gave an absent-minded nod, leaving his breakfast momentarily to grab Amie a cup of coffee. “There’s tea, if you prefer.”
“Coffee’s great,” she said, accepting the mug from him. “So what’s the plan for today? Any more relatives to draw into our web of lies?”
“I was thinking maybe a tour?”
Her eyes beamed. “Yes!”
“I didn’t even tell you where the tour is.” He laughed. “We’ll start with a tour of the house.”
