“No,” she said, her voice quiet and relaxed now that she’d gotten all those pent-up emotions out. They had a good five hours of flight ahead of them before they landed to refuel. Surely a nap wouldn’t be out of the question. Her thoughts grew fuzzy and she snuggled closer into Feraz’s side to keep warm. “Just the usual. Bills, making ends meets without a job, taking care of my mother.”
“You should have told me the monthly allowance I give you wasn’t enough, Roxy.”
The gentle censure in his tone jolted her awake as much as the use of her sister’s nickname. Crap. Any reasonable person on the planet should’ve been more than able to make do with the two-hundred-and-fifty grand a month Feraz had provided to her sister as part of their informal agreement. Then again, Roxanne had never been a reasonable person. Isabella scrambled for an answer, her posture stiffening against him.
“Relax,” he said, massaging gentle circles down her back. Isabella damned near moaned, it felt so good. Almost against her will, she melted against him again, biting back a sigh of pleasure. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been touched and stroked like that, let alone by a man. A man as hot as Feraz. She sighed and closed her eyes again. “I was teasing you. I see my bank statements every month. I know exactly how much of my fortune you spend and where.”
That last statement had her gut knotting again. They’d switched IDs for her sister’s last trip to France, but Roxanne had used her own credit cards to cover her expenses. If Feraz tracked his expenses as closely as that statement had suggested, that could ruin everything. Her mother had assured Isabella that there was no way Feraz would know. That he had a legion of people who took care of all his accounting for him. That he probably wouldn’t know a bank statement or credit card bill if it bit him in the ass.
From what he’d said, that was wrong.
They hit a bit of turbulence and Feraz pulled her closer, making her feel safe and secure, despite the gale-force issues battering her from all sides. Cocooned in comfort and warmth, Isabella slowly eased toward sleep once more. She was so, so tired and this mess would all still be there when she woke up again. Plenty of time to worry later. Right now, she needed rest.
“How’s your family doing?” she murmured against his chest, unable to even lift her head from where it was pillowed against his strong, solid chest. “Your country.”
He gave a gentle snort, his warm, minty breath stirring the curls by her temple as his other hand came to rest over her belly, over their baby. “You must be truly weary to want such information, rohi.” His quiet chuckle rumbled beneath her ear, lulling her further toward slumber. “But they are fine, since you ask. Raheem and his wife are now running a wildlife refuge. Rehaj and his fiancée are busy making plans for their wedding next Spring. And my sisters are all just as nosy as ever.”
She smiled at the picture that presented. “Sounds great.”
Feraz hesitated. “Yes, it is.”
His grin and his affection for them were evident in his voice.
“And your country?” she whispered, on the edge of sleep.
“Djeva is moving slowly but surely toward the twenty-first century. My brothers have helped a lot with that. Raheem’s wildlife refuge has brought attention to our island again and tourism is increasing once more. Rehaj is working closely with my cabinet to ensure that any new legislation we pass will be beneficial to both Djeva and the international business we hope to attract to the area. And even my sisters are helping. Jessenia is working on marketing and PR for the refuge with Raheem and his wife. And Najma, our resident tech whiz, has designed a tourism app for people to download that shows them all the wonderful attractions Djeva has to offer and allows them to book a trip to our country right from their phone.”
“Wow.” Isabella’s words were slurred from fatigue. “Sounds amazing.”
“Yes.” He kissed the top of her head, lingering a moment. “Amazing. Get some sleep, rohi.
You are safe now and have no worries. I will handle everything from here.”
As Isabella finally surrendered to exhaustion, a warning niggled at the back of her mind that she shouldn’t let him handle things, that the more he took control of her life, the greater the chances Feraz would discover the truth. But as they soared thirty thousand feet above the Atlantic, with the life she’d known behind her, and a promisingly terrifying new future awaiting, Isabella was too tired to fight anymore.
5
“Sir?” A voice echoed through Feraz’s unconscious. “Sir, we are preparing to land in Djeva.”
Feraz blinked open his scratchy eyes and squinted up at the attendant. “Thank you, Mozy.”
The man bowed slightly then hurried back to his post at the rear of the cabin while Feraz sat up gingerly so as not to wake a still-sleeping Roxanne. She’d been out cold for the duration of the flight so far, not even waking when they’d stopped to refuel at Heathrow. He winced as he worked out the kinks in his back then gazed down at her, so lovely and peaceful.
Too bad that wouldn’t last long, if experience had taught him anything. Roxanne was a firebrand. It was part of what had drawn him to her initially, and it was the same thing that had made them entirely unsuitable for each other and had eventually driven them apart.
Still, it had been nice to talk with her again, without all the nitpicking and backbiting that usually accompanied their conversations. In fact, the entire day with his wife had been enjoyable—other than that stop at her mother’s.
He stood and stretched before sitting back down and buckling himself and Roxanne in for the landing. She grumbled softly in her slumber and nuzzled closer into his arm, as if she couldn’t get close enough. Feraz smiled. He couldn’t remember a time when his wife had craved his touch. Sure, their sex life had been good, especially in the beginning. But Roxanne had never really needed him. She’d always been far too independent for her own good, never relying on anyone but herself to get things done. Feraz was all for strong, independent women. One could not live in a household with four sisters and a matriarch such as his mother without developing some level of feminist views. But Roxanne’s independence had always seemed to him to stem from fear and not from strength. As if she didn’t trust anyone enough to let them close enough to help her. Even her husband.
The pilot’s voice crackled over the PA system, letting them know they’d be on the ground and taxiing up to their gate at the private hanger within twenty minutes. Roxanne stirred at the noise at last, sitting up and rubbing her eyes like a child. Feraz’s heart tugged.
“What time is it? Are we in London yet?” she asked, her voice husky. Feraz felt that gravelly tone straight through to his groin. He shifted on his seat, putting a bit more distance between them now that she was awake.
“We’ve been in London and gone again. The pilot is preparing to land in Djeva. We’re home.”
Her green eyes widened slightly, as if she’d forgotten who they were and what they were doing. “Oh. Wow. Sorry. Didn’t mean to sleep so long, but I guess I needed my rest.”
“No worries.” Feraz smiled at her flushed cheeks. “Once we’re on the ground you may make use of the lavatory in the back, if you need.”