‘Would you like to go out?’ Zufar asked abruptly.
She returned her gaze to him and watched the sunlight dance over his glossy hair. ‘Where?’ she asked warily.
He shrugged. ‘Wherever you please.’
‘I thought you’d cancelled all our engagements.’
‘I did. But I won’t have you cooped up in the suite, climbing the walls. We’re not scheduled to fly for another few hours. If you wish to go out, we will.’
She wanted to point out that they were in a fifteen-room suite, hardly a space that evoked a coop. But her eyes lit on the tower again, and she nodded. ‘I’d like that. Thank you.’
He rose and held his hand out to her. Pulse jumping into her throat, she placed her hand in his, absorbing the tingles that raced up her arm as she let him help her up from the table.
In their bedroom, he walked her to the dressing room. ‘I’ll summon your attendants.’
She grimaced. ‘Can you not? I’d like to dress myself for once without all the fussing.’
He hesitated, then gave a regal nod before heading for his own dressing room.
The off-shoulder design of the maroon jumpsuit came with wide palazzo pants that made it look like an elegant day dress. The outfit was a little more casual than she’d worn for any occasion during her honeymoon but even before she slipped it on, Niesha knew she would love its easy comfort.
She’d watched Halimah and her attendants closely enough to expertly apply light make-up and twist her hair into a stylish bun in minutes. Deciding on simple diamond earrings, she slipped them on. Then she slid her feet into blood-red heels that matched her belt, scooped up oversized sunglasses and a clutch and left the suite.
As always, Zufar was waiting for her in the living room. He’d swapped his suit for a softer pair of grey trousers coupled with a light blue shirt over which he’d worn a jacket two shades darker than his trousers. His tie was gone, in its place a silk scarf tucked neatly into his collar. Handmade loafers completed his outfit and she stared, thinking he could easily have stepped off a magazine cover. As he drew nearer, she saw the House of al Khalia monogram embroidered on his jacket pocket. She wanted to say that he didn’t need it.
Every inch of him shouted his regal status.
In the lift down, he drew a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and slid them on. The moment they stepped out into the sunny reception, Niesha knew what she wanted to do.
‘Can we walk for a while?’
‘Not unless you want to be mobbed.’ The ever-present paparazzi loitered outside.
She grimaced. ‘Then I’d like to just drive around, if you don’t mind?’
He nodded. ‘It will be as you wish.’
They set off in a smaller convoy.
From the back of the limo, she tried to forget her turmoil and just bask in the sights. But it proved impossible.
Strong hands captured her twisting fingers. ‘It will be all right.’
Different words, said by a different voice but both owned by people she knew she was emotionally heavily invested in.
She would never get to meet her mother or hear the real-life version of the sweet words she’d whispered in her ear.
But Zufar was right here, a temptation she’d told herself to resist the moment she’d set eyes on him as a romantic teenager with her head in the clouds. Temptation she knew could decimate her when she took his
name and accepted him into her body.
His tempting words were the ones she needed to be wary of because Zufar would never see her as anything other than a replacement for another woman. A woman he hadn’t cared about enough to go after. If he’d found it so easy to discard Amira, what hope did she have of ever finding anything deeper with him?
When her feelings grew too much to contain she tried to prise her hands away. He held on tight. ‘Tell me what troubles you.’
‘I’m scared,’ she blurted before she could stop herself. But self-preservation stopped her from expounding.
To her surprise, he nodded. ‘I know. You’ll recall I, too, have been in your shoes.’