Henri ignored it and returned a text from Angelique with a video call.
“Problème?” he asked, continuing in French. “That was a cryptic message. Why are you worried about something you said to Trella about Sadiq? Are they having a romance I don’t know about?”
“What? No! Of course not. No, I think he’s falling for someone back in Zhamair. Do you know if that’s true?”
“He didn’t say anything when I spoke to him last.” Sadiq might be the best friend he and his brother had, but they did not discuss their love lives. They talked about important things like stock prices and politics.
“Why does that affect Trella?” he prompted.
“I don’t know.” She frowned in her introspective way and he knew to give her a moment to gather her thoughts. Angelique was a quieter personality, more like him, preferring solitude, while Trella and Ramon were the extroverts. Everything Trella did was full bore, including a nervous breakdown. She had been making him mad with worry since her birth, when she had turned blue in his arms the first time he held her.
He often thought that if it had been Angelique outside the day of the kidnapping, and her tutor had called her over, planning to stuff her in his van, she would have waited for Ramon and insisted he hold her hand and come with her. Shyness had been a hurdle for her, but it was a type of self-protection that served her well.
Trella had possessed none of that. She had run headlong over to the tutor, eager to be helpful and say she wasn’t Angelique.
They had stolen her despite her kicks and screams, because how effective was a nine-year-old girl against two strong men?
The trauma affected his sister to this day, which made him blind with fury if he didn’t carefully drip-feed himself those memories. It made him want to hurry Angelique to tell him how she imagined Sadiq, their friend who had actually helped save Trella, could be a threat to their sister now.
“I was just talking to her about him,” Angelique continued as though still gathering her thoughts. “And saying it was bound to happen that he would marry someday, even if he’s not in love now. She got really quiet. Now I feel...” She shrugged. “You know. Like she’s upset.”
“Deeply upset?”
“No.” She said the word on a rush of relief. “Normal upset. But I think she’s worried that if he did get married, she wouldn’t be able to go to his wedding.”
“We can cross that bridge when we come to it,” he said. “But thank you for telling me.”
Trella had been stable for half a year. They were all holding their collective breath that this time she was actually conquering her panic attacks.
He heard Cinnia and glanced up to see her with dry, windswept hair, wearing one of the hotel robes. “I, um, just want my phone.” She scurried to where he had set her handbag on a table after finding it on the floor, where she’d dropped it last night.
“Who’s that?” Angelique asked.
“A friend.” A very beautiful goddess who had done wicked, devilish things with him in the night. He had not misremembered the power of their chemistry. He kept reminding himself he wasn’t a man to be led by his organ, but as many times as they’d made love last night, it wasn’t enough. That’s what he kept coming back to. He wasn’t prepared to go another few weeks, let alone a lifetime, without making love to her again.
“Don’t run away,” he ordered Cinnia before she could lock herself in the bedroom. “I’m finishing up here.” To his sister, he said, “I’ll touch base with her later. Let me know if anything changes.”
He ended the call and stood, still conflicted now his sister had reminded him of the threats they faced daily and their far-reaching effects.
At the same time, his hands rolled of their own accord, silently inviting Cinnia to come to him.
She didn’t move, only hugged herself and flicked her glance to his phone. “Who was that?”
“Gili. Angelique. My other sister.”
“You’re very close to your siblings.”
“They’re the only people I trust completely.”
She looked at her bare toes. “I speak French. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I heard a little.”
“And?”
“And nothing.” She shrugged. “I feel bad for your sister. I don’t imagine something like that is anything you get over. I mean, I still cry about losing my dad and it’s been over a decade, but it sounds like she’s quite haunted and I’m sorry she’s still affected.” She glanced up, expression so soft with compassion it cracked things inside him. “I know you lost your father, as well. I’m sorry for that, too.”