Protecting the Desert Princess(84)

                ‘Hayet albi enta,’ Mikael said.

                ‘And me.’ Layla smiled again. ‘You are the life of my heart too.’





                                      CHAPTER TWENTY

                MIKAEL BOUGHT A return flight this time, when he went back to Sydney without her.

                There was an appeal to be lodged for his bastard client, and a lot of desk to be cleared—especially given that Mikael would be changing career direction when next he returned.

                He poured a glass of sparkling water and even the bubbles seemed to fizz in delight as he acknowledged that when he returned it would be with Layla.

                It was time to make a call.

                ‘Demyan.’ Mikael followed protocol. ‘How is the baby?’

                ‘Her name is Annika.’

                ‘How is Annika?’

                ‘She is awake for twenty-three hours a day,’ Demyan said. ‘I forgot how much noise babies make. So, where have you been? What happened with you and Layla?

                ‘Well, as Layla would say, we are betrothed!’

                Demyan laughed as he heard that Mikael would be getting married in Ishla and that it would be a very traditional wedding.

                He’d laugh even more, Mikael thought privately, if he knew he was marrying a virgin. In fact Demyan might drop the phone if he found out that it was Mikael who had insisted that Layla save herself for their wedding night.

                ‘Layla is going to be living here after we marry, but her father is not well so we shall be returning to Ishla often. I am not taking any more cases for now. I’m going to take a few months off to teach her about traffic lights and currency and such things.’

                ‘You have it bad,’ Demyan said, for he could hear the adoration in Mikael’s voice even as he tried to keep it light.

                ‘I have it so good,’ Mikael said. ‘Demyan, I understand it is short notice, and you have Annika, and things might be difficult to arrange, but—’

                ‘We will be there.’

                They had grown up on the streets together; they were family—just not by blood.

                ‘Will you be part of the wedding party?’ Mikael asked. ‘You would have to frock up.’

                Demyan said something very rude in Russian, and then laughed and said that he would be delighted.

                ‘I need another favour,’ Mikael said.

                ‘Apart from my wearing a dress?’ Demyan checked.

                ‘I need to speak with Alina.’

                ‘Alina?’

                ‘Women’s business.’

                ‘Very well.’

                It was possibly the most awkward conversation of Mikael’s life, but for Layla he pushed through it.

                * * *

                ‘But, Father…’