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.’