‘Demyan,’ Mikael said. ‘He’s a friend of mine. I grew up with him but he had moved to Australia. I knew there would soon be a bullet with my name on it, so I called him and his aunt helped me get to Australia.’
Mikael got out of bed and went to get a drink. He did not want her shock and sympathy; he did not want the questions and the prolonged conversation afterwards.
He had told her—wasn’t that enough?
‘The woman you hate…?’ Layla asked, and Mikael gave a wry smile, because she could easily don a wig and robe, so perceptive were her questions. ‘Did you love her also?’
‘Almost,’ he said. ‘Well, it was the closest I’ve ever…’ He took a belt of his drink and then a very deep breath, wondering if Layla would notice his hesitation—because the way he had felt in the past didn’t come close to the way he was feeling right now.
Not that she would notice.
She was putting on her shoes in bed and admiring her long legs—but what he didn’t know was that it was for his sake.
She’d sensed that he no longer wanted to talk.
He had never met anyone like her. Mikael was far more used to women pleading for conversation, for emotion, for him to just open up a touch more.
Layla had had all three without even asking.
And the only thing opening up now was her knees as Layla offered a rather appealing distraction from his very dark thoughts.
‘Can you kiss me down there?’
It would, Mikael decided, be his absolute pleasure.
CHAPTER TEN
MIKAEL WOKE TO the sound of Layla ordering her usual thinly sliced and peeled apple with mint tea and water.
‘And coffee,’ Mikael said. ‘And cake.’
‘Cake?’ Layla frowned.
‘Cake,’ he said.
‘Could we have some chocolate cake and coffee too?’ Layla said to the chef. ‘And I would like my slice of cake just a little bit warm, with lots of cream to pour over it.’ She ended the call and gave Mikael a wide smile. ‘I love this phone; it’s just fantastic.’
‘I thought you’d always be ringing down your orders in your palace?’
‘No.’ Layla shook her head. ‘I just tell Jamila what I want and she gets it for me.’
‘So Jamila’s your maid?’
‘My handmaiden,’ Layla said. ‘She has been with me since the day I was born.’
‘Like a mum?’
‘No!’ She laughed at the very thought. ‘You don’t love servants…’ Her face was suddenly serious. ‘I do feel a bit sick, though, at the moment when I think of her. She will be so worried. Oh, poor Jamila!’
‘Sounds a lot like love to me,’ Mikael said.
‘So,’ Layla asked, ‘now that the trial is over, do you get that time off you talked about?’
He gave a wry smile. His work had barely begun. There would be sentencing, appeals… He closed his eyes at the thought of it all for a moment.
‘I have a very busy day today. I have to meet with my client, his family.’ God, Mikael knew where he’d rather be.
‘That’s fine. I am going to take a ferry and I am also going to do the Sydney Harbour Bridge climb.’
Mikael lay there and told himself that Layla was twenty-four. She wasn’t incapable. In fact she was possibly the cleverest person he had ever met…
And yet…
That gnawing of unease he had felt the first night when he had called the hotel to see what was happening was back.
It wasn’t Layla so much who concerned him but others. She had been so protected it simply didn’t enter her head that people might not be nice to her.
He closed his eyes as there was a knock at the door and tried to tell himself that he was overreacting, that of course she’d be fine out there without him.