‘Excuse me a moment,’ he said to the receptionist, and then strode through the foyer and into the boutique.
‘I like!’ Layla said, holding up a very glittery, very high shoe. She sat down and kicked off her silver slipper and held out her foot to him, just as the assistant called over that she would be there in a moment.
Even her feet were beautiful, Mikael thought. Long and slender and, yes, clearly irresistible—because with barely a thought he was helping her on with the shoe.
The sole of her foot was a soft as a kitten’s paw and Mikael tried to ignore the feel of her skin and the scent of her hair as she bent forward as he tried to slip it on.
‘It doesn’t fit!’ Layla exclaimed.
‘You’re like Cinderella in reverse.’
‘Why doesn’t it fit?’ Layla demanded, because in Ishla her shoes were hand-made and fitted beautifully. This she could not even get her foot in.
‘Because this isn’t Planet Layla,’ Mikael said. ‘Come on.’
‘But I want—’
‘Layla.’ His voice was stern. Mikael was fast losing patience as she followed him to the elevators. ‘I don’t have time to be taking you shoe-shopping, I deliver my closing argument tomorrow…’
Not that she’d understand that, Mikael thought as he swiped a card for the lift and handed it to her. ‘You need to use this to take the lift and to get into your suite.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Twenty-fourth floor,’ Mikael said, pressing the button.
‘How did court go today?’ Layla asked.
‘Not very well.’
‘He must be very difficult to defend,’ Layla said.
Mikael shrugged and offered his usual response to that statement. ‘Not difficult for me,’ he said.
‘It’s an interesting case, though,’ Layla said. ‘Her silence is his defence.’
He had assumed that she was talking morally.
For once he was wrong.
‘You really have been following it.’ Mikael didn’t even hide the slight surprise in his voice.
‘Of course,’ Layla said. ‘I wanted to know who I would be dealing with.’
He showed her around the suite and where everything was, and then he showed her the phone. ‘If you want anything ring—’
‘You.’
‘No, you ring the desk.’
‘What if I need to speak with you?’
‘Please don’t need to speak with me,’ he said.
He went to get out his business card but then changed his mind and wrote his personal number down on a pad on the desk.
‘Emergencies only,’ he warned, but she wasn’t listening. She was at the window, her eyes glittering as she eyed the city streets below. He was starting to understand Zahid’s concern—because how the hell would she manage out there?