The Sheikh's Purchased Bride
Page 22
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With that, Malik told her he was going to shower and then the two of them would discuss the wedding details over an elaborate brunch. He hopped into the ensuite washroom and Amie could hear him fussing from behind the door; grabbing soap and shampoo, starting up the shower and closing the glass doors behind him.
Amie sat in an oversized chair next to the bed and stared at the floor; shocked.
Suddenly she felt so… stupid.
Sure, she’d lied, but it wasn’t as though she didn’t feel guilty about it. In fact, she’d lost sleep over lying to Malik’s family. But it was all supposed to be made right now that they were together. If they were even together. If they were a couple now, what would be so wrong with telling his parents they were still engaged and then just going back to Chicago and seeing where things took them? Why was he making it so complicated? She sighed into her hands, panic overtaking her body.
Her eyes went wide and she fought off tears as she realized she’d screwed up, yet again. This was supposed to be a dream job, and now it was a nightmare. How could she have been so gullible? They weren’t a couple at all. She was just a part of his act.
Worse than that… she’d fallen for someone so conniving that he would actually fictionalize his entire life to the people who loved him most. And for what? So he could continue to avoid committing to anyone? She felt sick to her stomach.
She couldn’t do it.
Not even for Malik.
She stared at the bathroom door; her fight or flight instinct suddenly taking over. How long would he be in there for? How much time did she have to run?
Her heart began pounding a mile a minute as she raced to get dressed and grab her purse, taking off Sadira’s gifted ring and leaving it on the counter. She made her way downstairs as quickly and quietly as she could, picking up a notepad on her way to the front door.
There were so many things she wanted to say to Malik; how amazing he had made her feel last night, and yet, what an absolute jackass he was. She wanted to scream; to cry; to write a letter detailing every wonderful thing he’d made her feel during their time together and how in one fell swoop he had ripped it all away from her.
Unfortunately, in the catastrophic time crunch she was under, all she could manage to scribble was:
I can’t. I’m sorry.
Amie
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