that it might ruin your figure?’ He smiled.
Just when he thought he knew a little of what went on in her mind, Mikael found out there was so much more he didn’t know.
‘No.’ Layla shook her head as they stepped out onto the street. ‘I worry about death, given that it was pregnancy that killed my mother—she died giving birth to me.’
‘Layla…’ He went to catch her wrist but she shook it off.
‘It is not something I wish to speak about,’ she said.
‘You can.’
‘What’s the point in that?’ she challenged.
There was none.
They walked to the car in silence.
Layla was dreading a future with Hussain by her side.
Mikael felt suddenly ill at the thought of the same.
It was a bit strained on the drive to his property.
Layla was lost in her thoughts and Mikael glanced over several times, trying to work out what she was thinking. Layla wished she hadn’t told him that, for she did not like to discuss her fears about getting pregnant, and there was nothing that could be done about them anyway.
So, as they left the city behind, rather than sit in pensive silence Layla nagged him to teach her to drive instead.
‘Please, Mikael….’ she said, for perhaps the twentieth time. They were miles from anywhere and there was barely a car on the road, just mile after mile of ocean, and then a low white property came into view and she glimpsed what must be his luxurious house. ‘Please let me drive.’
‘No,’ Mikael said as they pulled up on his huge drive.
He took her case in and left it in the hall as Layla looked around.
It was like nothing she had ever seen—a green oasis, and the tropical bush land outside seemed a feature of the home.
The place gleamed with a mixture of modern appliances and a few treasured antiques. A huge black and silver globe hung in one corner, and Layla guessed rightly that it was perfectly angled.
‘I am there,’ she said, pointing straight to Ishla.
If only the world were really that small, Mikael thought as she clipped on high heels through his home.
It was terribly hard for him to comprehend that the last time he had been home Layla hadn’t existed in his world.
‘Oooh, I like your chess set.’
‘Leave it,’ he said, watching her fingers hover over his knight. It felt strange having her here—a streak of feminine beauty in a home that was very male. He did not like the way her eyes seemed to take in each ornament, or each book that lined the walls, and he tried to distract her with the delicious view.
As they walked through to the lounge there was a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean, with its waves constantly rolling in, and Mikael opened the French windows to let in the magical sound.
‘Do you want to go the beach?’ he offered.
‘Maybe later.’ She shrugged and with a complete lack of boundaries walked through the house to his bedroom, which looked out onto the water also.
‘Where are the maids?’ Layla asked with mild interest.
‘I don’t have maids,’ Mikael said. ‘I have someone who comes in daily when I am here and weekly at other times.’
‘So it really is just us?’
He should be offended, Mikael thought as she snooped through his wardrobe and then into his study, except he couldn’t be, for she simply had no concept of living alone.
She thought his home was very beautiful and absolutely intriguing. Unlike the palace, Mikael’s walls were not lined with portraits of ancestors, for he did not know from where he came. Instead the art was modern, and Layla stared at a red line on the wall that was fractured in several places before continuing and branching out.
‘What is that?’ She frowned and peered closer.
‘It’s a lifeline,’ he said, admiring his favourite piece. It had cost an absolute fortune and it spoke to him in many, many ways—not just about this past but about his clients, their victims.
‘A lifeline?’ she queried. ‘Oh, you mean like this?’ She held up her palm and then looked back at the painting and pointed to the first fracture. ‘So is this you in Russia?’
‘It’s just a painting.’
It was more than that, though, to Mikael, and he looked at it and thought of the future and the next fracture that would appear when Layla left.
She wanted to know more—there was so much that she wanted to know—yet intuitively she knew that he had already shared more than he was comfortable with. It might take months, possibly years, to truly know him, and all they had were days.
‘Layla…’ Mikael broke the tense silence because there was a question that needed to be asked. If she felt a tenth of what he did then something needed to be addressed. ‘Are you sure that you want…?’
She did not want his question—she did not want this tension that was building to a head—and so she interrupted him before he could say what he must not.
‘I actually think I could paint that,’ she said stepping back from the painting and nodding. ‘If you got me some red paint I could do another one for you…’ She turned and saw his rigid lips and kissed them. ‘I’m playing,’ she said. ‘Well, sort of.’ Because she was quite sure that she could paint it—after all it was just a broken red line! ‘I love your home. It is very…’ she tried to think of a word to use ‘…very Mikael.’
‘So, what do you want to do?’ he asked, because he didn’t like her examining his things.
‘I already told you—I want to learn to drive,’ she said.
‘Layla, it’s not something you learn in a few days,’ he explained. ‘Wouldn’t you prefer to be doing other things?’
She looked at his delicious mouth and then back to his eyes.
‘Teach me to screw, instead.’
Deliberately he did not blink. Mikael knew she had picked up that word from him, and really he would prefer that she didn’t return to Ishla with that in her vocabulary.
‘That’s not a great choice of word, Layla.’
‘You said it the other night—you said that she didn’t want to lose a good—’
‘Lover,’ he said, but that didn’t work—because he had never been in love until now, and what was the point of falling in love when any day now she’d be gone?
‘I want to come again,’ Layla said.
