‘You don’t understand Layla.’ This time it was Zahid who broke in.
Far from the fury and hysterics that Mikael had expected, Zahid’s response was clipped. ‘She will not manage alone.’
‘Layla is twenty-four.’
‘Which means for twenty-four years she has had everything done for her. Everything,’ Zahid reiterated.
‘Well, she seems very capable to me, and more than independent.’
‘Could I speak with her?’ Zahid asked.
Mikael looked over to Layla, who sat rigid in the chair, her lips pursed. ‘Your brother wishes to speak with you.’
He expected her to shake her head, but instead Layla nodded.
‘You don’t have to,’ he said, but she was holding her hand out for the phone.
‘Don’t give him my name,’ Mikael warned her.
Layla had been right to get him in to handle this, Mikael thought, because whatever was being said in Arabic the conversation was clearly emotional. He watched as she stood and started pacing, shouting and crying, but then, just as he was going to take the phone from her, she switched to English.
‘No, Trinity, I do not accept what Zahid just said and you can tell him the same. Yes, I have messed up your honeymoon—well, guess what? I don’t expect to have a happy honeymoon. I know my honeymoon will be miserable. At least you get the rest of your life to be happy…’
Mikael’s eyes widened a touch in admiration, and then he suppressed the second smile to grace his lips in months as Layla continued.
‘What does your pregnancy have to do with my life?’ Layla demanded. ‘I am supposed to put my one chance for freedom to the side because you are growing a baby…?’ Layla gave an incredulous laugh. ‘I never realised you were so precious, Trinity. Let me speak with my brother—clearly you are supposed to avoid the real world for the next six months.’
Mikael listened as she continued speaking to Trinity, who was surely pleading with her to go back before the situation got out of hand.
‘I think one week of freedom is a very good deal,’ Layla said. ‘And I warn you: if you tell my father—if you look for me—then I shall take my barrister’s advice and go to an embassy.’ Layla handed Mikael the phone. ‘My brother wants to speak with you again.’
‘Whoever you are—’ Zahid’s voice was still supremely calm but it cracked near the end of his words ‘—please look after her.’
Mikael was just about to point out that that wasn’t in his job description, but then he looked over to Layla.
How could he send her out onto the streets alone?
‘She’ll be fine,’ Mikael said.
‘I need your word.’
‘Hey,’ Mikael said, ‘you’re not my client.’
‘I’ll be paying your bill,’ Zahid said, and Mikael ended the call and threw the phone on the desk and looked at his problem.
‘You are trouble,’ he said, and Layla smiled.
‘I know that I am.’
WHERE TO HOUSE the runaway princess? Mikael thought as her eyes lit on his chessboard and she walked across his office.
‘Leave it!’ he warned, because he played against himself and chess was part of his process when he was working through a case and needed fifteen minutes away from it at a time.
‘But I can see checkmate!’ Layla said.
‘Layla!’ Mikael warned again, and strode over. ‘Leave it!’
He pointed his finger at her and blinked as her teeth made a biting noise and she smiled widely at him.
She was like a little wild animal.
Sex had previously been the last thing on his mind.
That would happen after the trial—as soon as possible after the trial—when Mikael would make up for all he had missed out on as he surfaced to the world.
Sex, though, was right at the front of his mind now—and starting to make itself known elsewhere.
‘Come on.’ His voice was brusque as he opened his office door. ‘Wendy…’ he called as Layla followed him out, but then Mikael halted. It would be easier to drop her off himself than explain it all to Wendy, so they walked together to his car.
‘This is your car!’ Layla clearly approved. ‘It is very beautiful.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’d love to drive it.’
‘But then I’d have to kill you,’ Mikael said, opening the passenger side door for her.
‘You are much more polite than the taxi driver,’ Layla said.
Mikael got in himself and before driving off called his favourite hotel.
He glanced over to Layla. Yes, he told Reservations, he would have his usual luxury suite.
‘Right, I’ve booked you into a hotel. I’ll cover it, and we can sort out money some other time.’
‘You have your retainer.’
‘I do.’ Mikael sighed, imagining trying to cash a rare ruby. ‘Put your seatbelt on.’
‘Pardon?’ Layla frowned. ‘The taxi driver said the same.’
‘And did you?’
Clearly not.
‘You need to.’
It should have been easy to reach over and do it himself, except she started to laugh as if he was tickling her as he leant over to retrieve the belt and suddenly there was nothing straightforward about the way Mikael was feeling as his nostrils delivered to his brain its first hit of the exotic aroma of Layla close up.
‘What are you doing?’ She was giddy from the brief contact.
‘Putting on your seatbelt.’ He pulled the belt out, trying to ignore the scent of her and the sound of her laughter as he clicked it in. ‘Don’t you wear seatbelts in Ishla?’
‘I don’t,’ Layla said. ‘The same thing happened on the plane.’ Then she turned and looked at him. ‘Though it wasn’t as much fun.’
Mikael said nothing. He just drove to the hotel. But he could feel her eyes on him.
