miles from here, for the record.”
Emily went to say something and then thought better of it. A moment passed before she finally opened her mouth to speak. “But wait,” she gave pause, tapping her lip methodically with her finger. “I thought this was called the Wasim House? Why would they name it that when the guy’s name was actually Aashiq?”
“That’s your take away from my story?” Tariq’s expression was incredulous.
She shrugged. “It’s just a thought.”
“It was a nickname.”
She gave a deep frown and stared at the Sheikh in disbelief before looking back at the plaque with the dead man’s name on it. “But…”
“I know,” he said casually.
“His name is—”
“I know, it makes no sense; but that’s the nature of nicknames, isn’t it?”
She thought on this. Maybe Tariq was right. Why do people call someone named Barbara ‘Bunny’ or Richard ‘Dick’? Still, she felt this was somewhat of a stretch, and that was putting it lightly.
Emily could hear the click of her heels tapping against the smooth floor beneath her and walked a few more paces before turning around to face her new crush. She wondered what about this story he could possibly see in himself, and she wanted to ask him but wasn’t sure if she would be prodding.
Surely he wasn’t the first person to classify themselves as hollow, yet it seemed like such a strange stretch to make, considering the man was a billionaire. Emily believed that money couldn’t buy happiness, but it sure could buy a lot of fun stuff to do. She loved to travel and was almost one-hundred-percent certain that if she were able to travel the world at a moment’s notice, she wouldn’t have time to feel grim.
Finally, she shrugged at him and lowered her eyebrows inquisitively. “So why does that make you him?” She paused, and then corrected, “Why does that make you hollow?”
He stared for a moment and then a smirk crept upon his lips. “I’m about to go on a rant, so I insist you say something about yourself before I do.”
“Anything?”
He nodded, his brown eyes darkening as he stared over at the sarcophagus. “Anything. What’s something I should know about Emily?”
She thought on this, walking around the empty room and shying away from the visitors that seemed to crowd into the room out of nowhere. She took her place next to Tariq and bit her lip, thinking about the question.
“I’ve got it,” she said suddenly, snapping her fingers together. “I get really obsessed with certain foods. Like, if I eat something and I like it, I’ll eat it every day until I can’t stand the taste of it anymore.”
“Fascinating,” he grinned. “And I imagine very convenient if you end up loving salad.”
She scoffed and patted her non-existent gut before chuckling, “Bad if you happen to love nachos.”
“You’re funny, Emily,” he said finally, reaching his hand to hers and taking her fingers in his palm. “You’re so shy, yet once you get going you turn into an absolute chatterbox. I gather you have no idea how utterly captivating you are.”
She was shy, it was true, but she had no problem with perceived awkward silences. Suddenly she realized he was holding her hand and her entire face went hot and her heart began to race. His fingers were so warm and inviting.
“And that!” Tariq exclaimed with glee. “I love that.”
“The blushing?” she questioned with some disgust. “Ugh. I hate it! It gives me away.”
“No, it’s cute!” He laughed and began leading her up the stairs within one of the pillared towers. She could only assume he was stealing her away to one of the gorgeous balconies she’d seen from outside. “Think of it this way, Emily. Sometimes it’s nice to know where you stand without playing games with someone.”
Emily blushed again. Being the quiet one had made her more of a ‘watcher’ than a joiner, and one thing she loved to do was people-watch. She loved learning people’s little intricacies without actually having to speak with them.
“Sorry, weren’t we supposed to be talking about you and your likeness to the old sheikh, here?”
Tariq smiled, then nodded. “I was engaged,” he said while opening his hands thoughtfully. He quickly corrected, “It was an arranged marriage.”
Emily’s heart sank. “Oh,” she said, not quite able to voice the questions that had suddenly filled her mind.
Tariq took her by the hand and helped her into one of the balconies. The glass had gold carvings etched across the outside window—this particular design looked as though some ivy had