Secret Triplets(69)

 

Audrey was in awe. She stepped forward, trying to memorize the man’s face. The paint had chipped in places atop his purple turban and along his large ear, but his firm lips, pressed together, lifted into a familiar smile.

 

“He looks so much like you,” Audrey said. “And from the story, it sounds like you’re similar in personality as well.”

 

“Personality?” Jibril said, sounding doubtful. “I’m not so sure about that. But thank you, I suppose. He was a sweetheart.”

 

Audrey sensed she’d misspoken. She eyed the ground. Each time she felt she glimpsed the Sheikh’s real personality, he pulled back, assuring her she could never get too close. He was distant, a perpetual mystery—and a womanizer, based on his previous affairs with women in San Francisco.

 

Don’t get too close, Audrey warned herself.

 

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat, “I think I’m getting rather tired. You wouldn’t mind heading back to the hotel, would you? I imagine you’ll be wanting to meet up with your family—”

 

“That’s not happening this trip,” Jibril said quickly, turning his feet toward the wide door of the palace. “Unfortunately, it’s just the way it is.”

 

“Oh,” Audrey said, frowning. How on earth could he travel halfway around the world and not pop in to see his parents? Curious, her eyebrows low, she followed him out into the evening air, which was fresh with a bit of a chill to it, the smell of the sea carried on the slight breeze.

 

Not wanting to walk all the way back to the office buildings, the Sheikh hailed a cab on the other side of the palace, where the more modern city opened up. Jibril got in hurriedly, and told the driver the address of their hotel in rapid Arabic. Audrey felt the door close between them completely now, assuring her that she was just a personal assistant, nothing more. Romance wasn’t Jibril’s specialty, not like his grandfather.