The Cursed Pharaoh's Bride

Chapter IX

Carolina

My knee bounces as I wait anxiously for Elijah to show up to the small diner I told him to meet me in. After I told him I would agree to lunch with him, I told him I would only meet with him if he followed my conditions. One is that we meet where I wanted. The other is that he isn’t to touch me or refer to me affectionately at all. 

I stiffen when I see a certain tall figure walk into the restaurant. He sticks out in the casual establishment seeing as he’s wearing fancy dress pants, expensive looking shoes, and a crisp white dress shirt. And for some reason, he is wearing sunglasses even though we are inside. Once he turns towards my direction, he gives me a warm smile before walking to my booth and sitting across from me. I only further straighten up as I feel his long legs cage my small form in.

“Mr. Seka,” I greet softly as I look away from him.

“Carolina, please, I think we’re on a first name basis already,” he drawls, the smile evident in his voice.

“Maybe you are,” I say, “But I’m not.”

He lets out a sigh. “Alright then, Ms. Mercado, let’s talk business,” he says though I can hear a sharpness in his tone.

“What will it take for you to be Dr. Jones’ sponsor?” I ask.

“Getting to the point, I see,” He says, “Well, I could say I’d like for you to join me for dinner sometime by the end of this week but I might not get a reply.” I don’t like the sarcasm in his voice.

“Funny, you shouldn’t have been able to contact me in the first place,” I snap back, “How the hell did you get my email address?”

I can see him straighten up at my comment. “Dr. Jones gave me a list of her assistants’ email addresses in case if I wanted to contact any of them. Is that such a problem?” He defends.

“Oh, she willingly gave them to you? Without you having to ask her first?” I accuse.

“What are you trying to say?”

“You know what I’m trying to say.”

He looks away from me and bites his lip somewhat annoyed. His silence speaks volumes. “There’s nothing you need to do further to persuade me to be Jones’ sponsor. I’ve actually already signed the first check.”

“What’s the catch?” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. His head snaps back at me and his eyebrows rise above his sunglasses. I might as well have called bullshit on him.

“No catch,” he says hesitantly, “That lab has some potential. And besides, there are some personal perks to having ties to her lab.”

“Personal perks? Like what?” I question.

“Well…” he starts, “For starters, you work there.” I let out a groan.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to visit the lab to see me,” I say as I let out a dry laugh.

“I wouldn’t have to if I got to see you outside of the lab,” he responds, “Everyday would be preferable but as of right now, once a weeks seems more realistic.”

“You’d be lucky if I let you come near me once a week,” I murmur. He clenches his jaw in agitation. He reaches his hand as if to grab mine but he quickly stops himself and retracts his arm. 

“Seems like I’ll be checking up on the lab next week. What day works for you, Ms. Mercado?” He growls lowly. His statement causes a shiver to go down my spine.

“No, no. That won’t be necessary,” I say, “And the last thing I need is to be seen with you in a work place setting. I already feel uneasy being seen with you here. Why are you dressed like that anyways?”

“I just came from work, what do you expect?” He retorts.

“Okay but the sunglasses?” I ask.

He lets out a deep sigh. “You can imagine that I’ve been here for a month and the media already loves me,” he explains, “And besides, your…demands…don’t have me in the best of moods.”

Before I can ask him what he means by that, he lowers his sunglasses just enough to reveal a pair of annoyed, crimson eyes. He then quickly pushes his sunglasses back onto his face.

“Anyways, why isn’t my visiting the lab necessary?” He asks.

I let out a small breath that I didn’t know I was holding. I feel my heart beat nervously against my ribcage. What do I do? What do I tell him?

“Because,” I drag out, “Because you’re going to meet up with me again.”

“Next week?” He asks hopefully.

“No!” I quickly respond. Too soon. His hopeful look immediately drops in disappointment. “I-I’m busy all next week.”

The disappointment is evident in his face though he looks as if he’s trying to hide it. He doesn’t do a very good job and it almost seems like he’s cutely pouting.

“But,” I start, which causes him to perk up, “I’m not going to be that busy the week after.” The small smile that crawls onto his face makes my insides start to melt. He’s too excited to hear that I’m making time for him. I’m only doing this for Dr. Jones. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. 

“Your conditions, will they still be in effect when we meet again?” He asks skeptically. 

“What kind of question is that? Of course,”  I say. He deflates a bit at my statement but quickly recovers by clearing his throat. 

“Right, of course,” He repeats, “Now that we have that out of the way, we can move onto the actual lunch part of this date.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call this a date,” I say with a dry laugh, “And I have to leave soon. My roommate expects me to be home in about an hour. So I think it best that I get going now.”

“So soon? Why?” He asks in seemingly innocent curiosity. 

“I-I owe her a favor,” I lie. I mentally groan. Why did I have to stutter? He must know I’m lying. 

If he does, he doesn’t indicate it in his face. “Ah, I see. But do you really have to leave an hour before you have to meet her?” He instigates. 

“The commute is about an hour,” I say smoothly. 

“Commute? To where, exactly?” He asks nonchalantly. 

“Up to-“ I immediately cut myself off. Sly mummy. “Why do you want to know?”

He gives me a lopsided grin. “Just curious,” he says in a far too playful tone. “If you want, I could always have you driven home. I wouldn’t want to see you leave without eating something either.”

“Trust me, I won’t starve,” I snap, “Besides, I don’t want you knowing where I live. That’s creepy.” His grin falters. 

“I’m just trying to be polite,” he says in a dark tone. 

“Don’t worry about being too polite around me,” I retort. The words come out before I can stop them. What’s wrong with me? I’m not usually this confrontational. At least not around people I barely know. 

His lips spread into a somewhat wicked looking smirk. I feel his legs spread closer to me underneath the table as if to cage me. “Oh really,” he drawls, “Now, now. If I was allowed to forget my manners around you, I’d have you right here on this table.” 

My eyes widened at his comment. I stiffened when I felt his legs brush against mine. I leaned back into the booth seat. “T-the second condition,” I say low enough to be a whisper. He keeps smirking at me for a moment before he gives me more body space. 

“You’re lucky I care about keeping up appearances,” he says, “And that I was raised to be such a well behaved young man.” He flashes me a devilish smirk. 

“Pig,” I mumble under my breath. He raises his eye brows at me before leaning closer across the table. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” I say as I look away from him quickly. “I-I mean, I was just thinking it be best I ate before I left.”

“Great, then I’ll drive you home so your friend doesn’t worry about you,” he says. I can hear the smirk in his voice. 

“No! I’ll just let her know I’m running late,” I quickly reply. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

I turn back to him with a pleading gaze. For a moment, he opens his mouth as if to respond but then he closes it and looks away quietly before giving me a small nod. I let out a sigh of relief. At least I have one victory against this guy. 

Lunch remains quiet between us. Elijah tries to start conversation with me by asking me questions. But I always quickly shut him down by giving him a one word or extremely vague response. And for whatever reason, I see him give me strange glances as I try my best to take the smallest bites from the salad I ordered. After we finish the main course, he offers to buy me dessert but I decline. It’s not like I’m hungry and I don’t need to be here any longer. When the check finally comes, I try to fight him to pay for it but he ends up picking it up, claiming that it’s absolutely nothing seeing how he’s running a multimillion company. 

“So, you aren’t going to let me drop you off?” He asks again as we walk out of the diner. 

“That IS what I said before,” I reply. 

He lets out a sigh. “Right.” He walks up to a car that just pulled up in front of us and  reluctantly opens the back seat door. 

His reluctance and his disappointment almost make me feel bad. A tiny part of me is telling me to throw him a bone and give him something. But the larger part of me argues that I’ve been doing that since this lunch meet up started. I agree to meet him again and I even stay to have lunch when clearly I was trying to get out of the situation. The tiny part of me says that I wasn’t really giving him those opportunities out of my own wishes but only because he was able to manipulate. Wait, how dare he manipulate me! I shouldn’t give him anything more. And yet...

“Carolina,” his voice snaps me out of my inner battle. “Are you sure you don’t want us to take you?”

“I-I...” I start. My answer should be yes. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind if you dropped me off at one of the train stations so I don’t have to transfer.” The corners of his mouth curl and he motions me to slide into the back seat before he himself takes the seat next to me. Why am I like this?

I tell the driver where the station is before I turn back to Elijah. “I’m surprised you’re not driving,” I say.  

“Why is that?” He asks with a bewildered look. 

“Oh, you just seem like the kind of man who doesn’t mind showing off his wealth by driving around in some super expensive luxury car,” I tease. 

“H-hey! That’s not true,” he pouts, “I mean, would there be anything wrong with that?”

I have to bite my lip to keep myself from laughing at how defensive he suddenly became. “Not really. It’s your money, so you should spend it however you want.”

He lets out sigh before grinning at me playfully. “That’s good to hear. I already put a down payment for my first car. Maybe I can take you for a ride.”

“Oh, ha ha. I am just so impressed,” I respond sarcastically while rolling my eyes. 

“That’s the idea,” he says with a wink before his smile turns more genuine, “Not that I can take you out for a ride, yet. I still need to learn how to drive.”

“You don’t-“

“I’ve only been alive for about a month, remember?” he lowly adds. I quickly shut my mouth. Being with him now like this almost makes me completely forget about the events that happened in Egypt. If it weren’t for the fact that I lived through it, I would’ve assumed that he was just some handsome, rich man who, for some unknown reason, has taken an interest in me. 

After that comment, the car ride stays silent. The silence is then broken by his voice again. “Carolina, I want to apologize for any ill behavior on my part,” he starts. 

“Just...forget about it,” I quickly say. I try to look away from him but he places his hand on my shoulder, which makes me snap my head back at him. I look down at his hand before gazing up at him, which causes him to pull away. Yet, I can tell he’s not backing down. 

“No, I made you feel uncomfortable and I can’t just forgive myself so easily for that,” he argues as he leans in closer and closer to me, “I want you to feel comfortable around me. I want you to trust me. But that can’t happen if I behave disrespectfully towards you-“

I place my hand on his chest, which causes him to stop. I normally would have pulled away quickly but I don’t. I can’t, at least not until he calms down. I can feel the heat radiating off his body and the strong pumping of his very much living heart. For a moment, we’re both quietly feeling the sensation of being in contact with each other. Our breaths start to match each other, and I can feel the electricity flowing between us. My hand then slowly travels up his chest, trails up his strong neck, and rests on his cheek. 

“I rather not think about that. If you want me to at the very least drop my guard around you, just forget about it so we can move past it. Just don’t do it again,” I say calmly. 

He slowly nods, his breath quickening slightly. I want to pull away but I find that I can’t just yet. I lean closer to him and I can feel his breath lightly hitting my face. I then move my hands to his sunglasses and slowly pull them off to reveal those bright blue eyes of his gazing at me tenderly. I then cup his face with both my hands. In response, his eyes flutter shut. I can feel my heart race as he slowly leans closer to me. Our noses are barely touching when the car abruptly stops. 

“Sorry, sir, we just hit some traffic all of sudden,” the driver pipes up. 

I quickly pull myself away from him. I can feel my heart racing in my chest. Was he going to kiss me? Was I going to kiss him? I glance over at Elijah and notice his eyes have changed back into an angry red color. He clenches his jaw in annoyance before turning to look out the window without another word. The remainder of the car ride stays quiet. 

Once we make it to the train station, Elijah moves to grab his sunglasses again but I rest my hand on his to stop him. His red eyes shoot to my green ones and after a second, the red frustration melts away and is replaced by his natural blue eyes. He then pulls away and opens the door. He gets out of the car and lets me out behind him. 

“I guess this is until we meet again,” he says. 

“Yeah,” I reply lamely. He starts to turn away before I stop him. “Wait, do you think you can stop emailing me? That’s my work email and I don’t want to get anything personal there.”

His eyebrows arch skeptically. “If not through email, how am I supposed to contact you?”

I timidly pull out my phone and hand it to him. “We can text each other,” I offer, “But try not to spam me or text me randomly.”

He gives me a wide toothy grin before eagerly entering his number into my phone. He almost looks like a kid getting a Christmas present from Santa himself. I can’t help but also notice how tiny my phone seems to look in his large hands. Am I really that small compared to him? Yet, he seems to handle the small device gently in his hands. Can I trust him to handle me with such gentleness and care? Can I ever trust any man again to care for my feelings?

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when he hands me my phone back. “I’ll text you where and when we’re meeting up,” I say as I slowly step back towards the stairs of the subway. 

I then quickly turn back towards him. “And one more thing, remember that the conditions still apply.”

His smile falls for a moment again before it returns. He sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah, of course,” he says defeated. 

“So, I pick the location, and you’re not allowed to refer to me affectionately,” I clarify. 

A look of confusion spreads across his face for a moment. “If I remember correctly,” he starts, “You said before that the conditions were-“

“-that I pick where we meet up and that you don’t refer to me affectionately,” I repeat, “Is there a problem with that?”

He shakes his head as the smile returns to his face. “No problem at all.”

“Good,” I say, “Just don’t push it.” With that, I turn away from him and disappear into the subway.