Excerpt from Take It Back by Kia Abdullah, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Yeah," Zara said dryly. "Rock'n' roll."

* * *

The bells of St. Alfege Church cut across the quiet, sending birds fleeing across the early evening sky. Canary Wharf shone in the distance—Zara's favorite feature of her tidy Greenwich flat. She watched from the balcony and raised a joint to her lips. A blanket of warmth clouded around her, loosening the painful knots in her shoulders. Her head felt light but her limbs were heavy, almost sensual in effect. She leaned forward and laid her head on the wrought-iron railings, welcoming relief.

Just as her mind quieted, the doorbell cut through the breeze. Cursing, she snuffed out the joint and stepped back inside. Her flat on the top floor of a converted warehouse was large and bright with creaky old ceiling beams and exposed brickwork. The giant cream corner sofa sat next to her desk, a sturdy structure of reclaimed oak. Opposite stood a large bookcase stuffed with legal textbooks next to floor-to-ceiling windows. At the far end of the enormous room was her rarely used kitchen, a modern mix of chrome and glass offset by her giant wooden dining table. In a sea of minimalism, the only signs of personality were her antique lawyer lamp—a graduation gift from her sisters—and five large posters on the western wall depicting headlines from what Zara considered the greatest legal achievements of all time. She padded past them now and opened the door to find Luka outside with two bags filled with takeout.

He smiled sheepishly. "You said you missed lunch so I brought you some food." His gaze fell to the joint cooling in her hand.

She drew it back. "I've had a bad day."

"I didn't say anything." He gestured inside. "Can I come in?"

She held the door ajar.

Luka set the food on the breakfast bar and started to unpack. "So why did my beautiful girlfriend have a bad day?"

She balked. Six months and she still wasn't used to "girlfriend." They were meant to be casual. He was meant to be a distraction, a mindless and uncomplicated diversion, and yet here he was buying her comfort food and calling her his girlfriend.

She waved a hand. "It's just something at work."

Luka stopped. "What happened? Are you okay?" His concern only reminded her that she had told him too much, pulled him too close.

"Don't worry," she said. "It's fine."

He met her gaze, his eyes a stormy green, frustrated by her caginess. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to somehow soften her sharp edges, but opted instead to do nothing. She moved to the dining table and he followed, sitting next to her instead of opposite. We're closer this way, he had once said. His hand rested on her knee, a subtle non-sexual gesture. She moved her leg so that he fell away. Don't forget, it warned. She poured a large glass of wine and offered it to him.

He waved it away. "I can't. I'm training for the climb."

She set the glass on the table, noting the irony of a white man refusing a drink from a Muslim woman. She pushed it toward him. "You've still got a few weeks before you leave."

He reached forward and wiped a crumb off her lip. "Yes, I do." His fingers rested there a moment too long. "I'll miss you." He paused. "You know what's happening between us, don't you, Zara?"

She looked at him, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. It was her Ralph Lauren stare: part anxious, part vacant, detached but intense. Was she still playing or not? Even she couldn't tell anymore.

His dark blond brows knotted in a frown. "I know what this is and what this isn't but…" He watched her stiffen. "I know you don't feel the same but I need you to know."

"Luka—"

"You don't have to say anything." He leaned forward and pulled her into his arms.

Against her instinct, she let him hold her. If she was going to use him as a salve, at least she could let him heal.

"I love you," he whispered.

Excerpted from Take It Back by Kia Abdullah. Copyright © 2020 by Kia Abdullah. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.