The Sheikh’s Bargain Bride(41)
James extended his hand that Zahir reluctantly took.
“Abduallah’s brother, if that is who you mean.”
Matta hung on James’s arm.
James smiled, a wide disarming grin. “Sure is. And you’re just like he described.”
“Really.” Zahir’s chill response was restrained compared to the cold anger that filled his veins.
Anna looked from one to the other. “So, James, what brings you to Paris?”
“Work—and pleasure. Always pleasure.” He laughed.
Zahir watched them chat easily before Anna drew it to a close after a quick look at him.
“We must go. But take care.”
More kisses followed before they continued walking down the street. Zahir turned once to see James disappear into the bar—his eyes drawn to the briefly-glimpsed interior and the music thudding out into the street.
They walked in silence up the Champs-Élysées, busy traffic drowning out Matta’s ceaseless conversation with Anna and her patient replies. Zahir felt himself withdraw into himself. Always his first line of defense, he knew. But for the moment the implications of what he’d just seen made it necessary.
They turned down a side street and stopped before an impressive townhouse.
“This is it?”
“Yes.”
Anna’s eyebrows rose. “You mean all of it?”
“Of course. My sister lives in only one wing and the rest is for visiting family.”
The door swept open and they were ushered inside by a servant and shown into the elegant drawing room where Zahir’s sister, Firyal—larger than life—held court surrounded by her larger than average family.
Anna watched Zahir apprehensively. He couldn’t have failed to notice that Abduallah’s close friend James was gay and had been entering a gay bar. But he’d made no comment. Anna settled down to listen to her sister-in-law, whom she’d only met once at the wedding, and watch their children play.
She wasn’t surprised when Zahir didn’t join them.
“Firyal, I must go. I have business.”
Firyal nodded graciously, even though she was obviously expecting him to stay. It seemed his sisters and family all acted as if Zahir was God. No wonder he had such a shock with how Anna treated him.
“Anna,” he nodded and Anna jumped up and walked with him to the door.
“Zahir, do you want to talk? Do you want to know anything?”
He shook his head. “What I want is to get away for a while.”
“Shall I come? I’m sure Firyal will look after Matta.”
He shook his head and pulled the door closed in front of her. There was so much she needed to tell him, so much she wanted to reassure him. But she felt helpless before his intransigence. He was a loner. Used to doing things, working things out, alone. She turned and walked back into the drawing room. She just hoped he worked things out right.
The afternoon crawled by with Anna passing the time of day with Zahir’s sister—a woman with whom she had little in common except the children. Matta played and conversed easily with his cousins and aunt and her friends. She was proud of how easily he fitted in and relieved to see how his easy-going nature won people over to him. Life wouldn’t be so hard for Matta as it was for his father.
Anna couldn’t help gazing with increasing frequency at her watch. Hours had passed and still no sign of Zahir, no word on her phone. She knew him so well now and knew that he needed time alone. But she was also scared. What happened when the defined parameters of a strong man’s world disintegrated; when a strongly held belief evaporates before your eyes? The fact that there had been no external reaction, not even a flicker of expression to reveal the turmoil that she knew to be going on within him, only concerned her more.
“Do not worry about Zahir. He is a busy man.”
“I know. It’s just that—”
“You worry about him? That is a woman’s lot. Why don’t you leave Matta with me. Let him stay the night with his friends and attend his cousin’s birthday party. Then you can concentrate on Zahir.”
Anna smiled in agreement. Anna couldn’t say “no” even if she wanted to because she knew that Zahir needed her. Firyal didn’t understand what was going on but with Matta having fun, it was true, it would give them the opportunity to have the conversation that she knew she needed to have with him. To make sure he understood fully about Abduallah.
Zahir didn’t know how long he walked through the streets of Paris. His jacket collar up, slight protection against the drizzling grey rain. Once someone shouted and he looked up and stopped, just before a cab sped by in front of him. He waved in acknowledgement at the man who’d saved his life.