Razi stuck her tongue out at her oldest sister as she slid into the back of the limo. “Don’t boss me around. You’re not my mama, Jess.”
“Thank Allah,” Jess said. “And you’re not a baby anymore. Quit sulking like one.”
That earned her a rude gesture in response, which had Najma cracking up and the fourth sister, Cala—if Isabella remembered correctly—sighing in dismay.
“Can’t we all just get along guys?” Cala said, sliding into the limo next.
Up ahead, Isabella saw Feraz standing beside a second limo. He gave her what she assumed was meant to be a reassuring look and nod before following his brothers inside the vehicle. Tiny Djevian flags in bright red, white, and green flapped from the antennae on the hoods of the limos. The air here was dry and hot, a wind gusting in and carrying the scent of warm sand and sea, reinforcing the fact she wasn’t in New York anymore.
“In you get,” Jess said, herding Isabella inside the second limo, then following her into the car before the driver closed the door behind them. The sisters all sat on one bench seat while Isabella sat alone on the other, feeling like she was facing some kind of tribunal. Given her sister’s less-than-respectable behavior over the last year and a half toward their brother, she supposed she should have expected a trial. Just maybe not so soon.
“Why are you back?” Jess said, arms crossed and expression stern. “Other than the obvious.”
“Uh, well, Feraz and I—”
Before she could finish, Cala piped in, “You hurt him, with all your gallivanting around and being seen with other men. You hurt Feraz very deeply, even if he won’t say it. I don’t like to see my brother hurt.”
“None of us do,” this came from Najma and Razi in unison.
“Better keep an eye on your cell phone while you’re here,” Najma added, a brow raised in challenge. “I’d hate to see anything happen to it and all your private data leaked all over the Internet.”
Isabell swallowed hard and clutched the small purse she’d brought with her. Yeah, she didn’t plan to let her phone out of her sight.
“Answer my question,” Jess said, drawing Isabella’s attention back to her. “Why have you returned to Djeva and Feraz after all this time? Is it the money?”
Yes. “No.”
And honestly, it wasn’t all about the money anymore. From the minute Feraz had walked into her doctor’s office appointment the day before in New York, something had changed inside Isabella. The more time she’d spent with him on the plane and then that scorching kiss they’d shared had cemented it. Yes, this had all started out as an elaborate hoax to get her mother’s medical treatment paid for and to get enough cash to support the child Isabella was carrying for her dead sister and Feraz. But now, a tiny spark of hope had flared inside Isabella. A hope that maybe, somehow this could all work out for the best. That perhaps Feraz could grow to love her and they could repair their marriage and live happily ever after here in his desert island paradise.
Yes, she’d have to tell him the truth at some point and yes, she’d have to deal with the consequences. But if he’d come to love her before then, as she knew she could come to love him, then maybe the truth wouldn’t matter. Maybe he’d want to keep Isabella for his own and raise their child together. Maybe his family would accept her and forgive her for her sister’s sins and Isabella’s lies and life would be good.
Or not.
“I’m not hearing an explanation,” Jess said, interrupting her rose-colored thoughts. “Which means it is all about the money. You should be ashamed of yourself. And with child too. Is it even Feraz’s?”
Heat prickled Isabella’s cheeks and righteous anger loosened her tongue at last. “Of course it’s your brother’s child.”
Razi snorted, in true teenaged fashion. “We’ll see about that.”
“Razi!” Cala glared at her youngest sister. “That’s not nice.”
“Neither is screwing around on your spouse.” Najma looked up from her phone to give Isabella a flat stare.
Isabella opened her mouth to respond, but what could she say. There was no defense for what her sister had done. None. She didn’t agree with Roxanne’s actions any more than she intended to follow in her sister’s footsteps where this marriage was concerned. But as far as these people knew, Isabella was her sister. So, instead of answering, she huddled into the corner of the black leather seat and stared out the window beside her while the sisters began discussing the situation in rapid-fire Arabic.
Outside, the capital city of Al-Qustra glowed golden in the distance. She remembered it well from her previous trip here. All the shopping and dining and fun souvenirs shops and souks. She’d wanted to spend more time exploring everything the country had to offer, but then Roxanne had gotten involved with Feraz and their trip had revolved around him and the whirlwind affair. Perhaps once the baby was born, Isabella would have some time to visit the places she’d missed before.
The baby kicked hard, as if in response, and she frowned, rubbing her belly.
Across from her, the sisters abruptly stopped talking and stared at her baby bump.
“May I feel it,” Razi asked, leaning forward slightly.
Isabella bit her lip and nodded, hoping this might be a moment of accord between them. The young teen girl reached a tentative hand out to place it atop Isabella’s stomach. The baby kicked hard again, right below Razi’s hand and she giggled.
“Does it hurt, when it moves like that?” Razi asked.
“No. Not usually. Depends on where the baby’s laying and if I have a full bladder or not.”