Tariq hadn’t agreed, insisting Miss Davenport was superior in every way, but they’d moved on to other things.
And Zafir had spent weeks imagining where he would buy her a flat in London, even going so far as to look at real estate listings. He didn’t even know what she might like. They hadn’t talked much, always too busy quietly eating each other alive. Obviously she’d always lived modestly. He’d gathered that she’d taken care of her mother through a terminal illness. Surely she would appreciate not having to work or worry about meeting her basic needs anymore.
His desire to continue their affair was a type of insanity. An obsession. It had to stop. He tilted his head back, fighting yet again the memory of having her under him, lissome and smelling like heaven, hot and writhing with abandon. Had he known he would have her, he would have taken her from the beginning. All the way, every night.
The knock on his door was like an axe hitting the chopping block. No more thoughts of her after today. His life was moving in a different direction. A necessary one.
But when he called permission to enter, his guest was Ra’id.
Zafir frowned. His brother-in-law never arrived unannounced and never looked so grim. Zafir’s mind instantly whirled into terrible possibilities. He rejected each frightening concern as quickly as it came. Please not his sweet nieces. Let Amineh be well. She was pregnant. Was something wrong with the baby?
“What’s happened?” he demanded as Ra’id closed the door behind himself.
Ra’id lifted a staying hand. “Your sister and the children are fine. But she has insisted I come see you, since she’s too far along to travel and confront you herself.”
Ra’id looked more severe than Zafir had ever seen him, as if an angry black cloud surrounded him. The accusation narrowing his friend’s eyes suggested he pinned some sort of blame on Zafir.
That took him aback. He tried to think of what Tariq might have possibly done during his stay three months ago. He’d talked of one of Ra’id’s prized horses...
Folding his arms, Ra’id stated belligerently, “My wife and I have been arguing for months. I knew she was keeping something from me, which is not like her at all.” The couched fury in Ra’id’s voice put Zafir on high alert. “And when she finally told me her suspicions, I assured her she was so wrong that this would go down in our marriage as the most unfounded disagreement we have ever had.”
“She cannot be accusing you of an affair?” Zafir said with disbelief. His friend had been married to Amineh long before the formal ceremony had taken place. If Ra’id had had any other lover but his wife, Zafir would be shocked dead.
“Not me, no,” Ra’id said, adopting the full superiority of his station. “You.”
Zafir’s breath stalled. His lifetime of being attacked with denigrations served him well. He deflected this one with a neutral expression and only elevated one eyebrow as he blithely responded, “I’m not married.”
“Miss Davenport left our household rather abruptly some months ago. Amineh is convinced you are the reason.”
“This will go down in history as a ridiculous fight if you’ve come all this way to involve me in your domestic employment issues,” Zafir intoned.
“It has turned into a contest of which one of us knows you better. She thinks you quite capable of an affair with her friend, while I have assured her you have more honor and sense.”