Nick entered the telly room with only his boxers on while towel drying his head, looking at me lounging by the sofa. I moved my gaze from the balcony towards him.

"You're thinking again," he smirked. "And you're selfish enough not to share it with me."

"I'm thinking what to cook for tonight," I denied.

He laughed, chucked the towel to the side and sat next to me. "We just ate and you're already thinking about dinner? That's clearly not what's in your head right now. Don't lie."

I smiled, knowing that I might get caught for lying, so I decided to divert the conversation, "Don't you have any assassination to do? No drugs to deliver?"

"It's not an everyday job, you know that," he sighed. "My father still handles the main operation while I only handle logistics. If he doesn't call me, I don't have to be there."

"Okay," I mouthed. "I was just curious."

"Why are you still interested? Do you want to see another mutilation?" he asked playfully, licking his bottom lip.

"No, I was just thinking that maybe..." my voice trailed off and I shook my head. "Nothing, I shouldn't be talking about this."

He moaned quietly, unbuttoning my shirt. "Maybe we should talk less and do more, right?"

"What makes me irresistible to you, Nick?" I asked abruptly.

He stopped unbuttoning and drew a deep breath before exhaled loudly, calming himself from attending to my deferral. He turned away, leaned on his back and replied, "I have fetish for something irregular, something feisty. And I do have a thing for older girls. So, you complete the whole package. I crave to resurface that feminine beauty lying beneath that androgynous tomboy of you."

"I'm honoured," I said, propping my elbow at the back of the chair. "Why older girls?"

"I find their maturity and experiences to be beneficial," he explained.

"But I don't have that much of an experience, you aced at it. You even had escorts," I debated.

"I wasn't talking about sex, you little twit," he flickered his finger on my forehead that I flinched. "I was talking about non-coition experiences. There's definitely something about life you can teach me."

"How was I to know?" I rubbed the spot on my forehead which Nick flickered. "You had your hands all over me and talked dirty."

"Well, you're the one who wanted to talk," Nick countered. "So, are done talking?"

"Not really," I said and went on. "So, I somehow ticked your boxes? I'm your pot of gold."

"Nope, better. You're the leprechaun," Nick answered with a sly grin. "So, where's the three wishes you promised me, my foxy little leprechaun?"

I didn't reply but to smile at him. He kissed me and I tasted his mouth tenderly, but it was not to my fullest satisfaction. There was nothing wrong with Nick, he was wonderful. It was the sense of unfulfillment veiling my heart and mind thinking about us.

"What's wrong now?" Nick pulled away from me, sensing my discomfort.

"Are we really going to be like this forever?" I queried.

"What's wrong with this? Is it not good enough for you?" Nick's voice sounded frustrated.

"I believe in marriage, Nick. A family without marriage to me is null and void," I said finally, and he groaned to this. He got up from the sofa, padded across the wooden floor towards a mini bar and took out the half empty bottle of Dickel No. 12 and a tumbler while patiently listened to my explanation, "What if some situations occurred where you and I are forced to be separated. What will become of me? Just another used depreciated item, ain't it?"

He filled up half of the tumbler with the whiskey while responding to my statement. "You know, for a person who had lived here in UK all her life, I'm surprised you actually have a shallow mind. Why must you need to put relationships on a piece of paper?"

"I can't help it if my religion and the way my family brought me up drive me to think this way," I debated while he regurgitated his drink.

"So, you're not as liberated as I thought," he said disappointedly. "Don't bring the religion matter into this picture, Zahida."

"You should know better; you were a Muslim once."

"Don't put this on me. It's you. It's your thinking!" he snapped, pounding the empty tumbler on to the top of the mini bar counter. "If you value yourself like a worn-out shoe instead of timepiece passed on for generations, then worn out shoe you will feel."

"But you need to understand–"

"We're done arguing for now, Zahida Jafri! Get up and face the balcony now!" he dragged me from the sofa and pushed me to the sliding door of the balcony.

I knelt on the carpeted floor, facing the balcony with my palms pressed against the glass of the sliding door, while Nick frisked me away trying to get his three wishes done. He yanked my trousers down while I enjoyed the view of the balcony even more in depth, trying to distract myself from whatever he was planning to do to my body.