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“It’s not the clothes. It’s you.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. “This is for you.”
“Oh.” She thought guiltily of the necklace she still hadn’t worn. “What is it?”
He flicked the top, holding the box so that she could see inside. It was an enormous diamond ring, surrounded by some kind of pale blue gem stone in a small circlet.
She stared at the piece, and then lifted her confused gaze back to his face. “What is this?”
“Not an engagement ring,” he drawled with a small smile. He slid it onto the middle finger of her right hand. It fit perfectly.
“I don’t understand. Why?”
“Because I wanted to give you something. Something you could always wear and think of me.”
When he was gone.
The conclusion to the sentence was an enormous tangle of emotion and it jumbled between them. “Thank you,” she said, knowing she wouldn’t wear it ever again, once he was engaged to another woman. How could she wear something like this from a man who’d pledged himself to another?
She swallowed and plastered a smile on her face. “Ready to go?’
He linked his fingers through hers. “Yes.”
The driver made short work of the London streets, pulling up outside her apartment in record time. “You live in a post office?”
She rolled her eyes. “I live above a post office.” The driver held a large umbrella out over the car door, keeping them dry as they crossed to the shiny red door. Cassie inserted her key in the lock and pushed the door inwards.
The staircase was narrow and spiralled. Layth had to duck as he cleared the first twist so as to avoid bumping his head. “Yeah, we never really noticed that,” Cassie grinned. “Both Melinda and I are equally challenged in the height department.”
The apartment was painted a moss green colour, and the carpet was cream. The walls were, of course, adorned with a stunning selection of artwork. He was fascinated by her personal taste. He had expected modern, bold and bright, but Cassie had opted for soft, floaty pieces, reminiscent of the Impressionists. Hazy and ethereal, somehow wistful.
Melinda must have run around like a wildling. Far from looking like the bomb site Cassie had expected, the apartment was almost immaculate. The smell of brewing caffeine hit Cassie and she sighed with relief. “Coffee.”
Melinda was in the kitchen, leaning against the bench with a slightly belligerent look on her face. She was staring at the table. Cassie followed her gaze and frowned at the equally obstinate figure of Renee.
“Well, well, what’s going on here?”
Melinda’s cheeks glowed red. “He didn’t want to leave.”
Cassie burst out laughing. “I see.” She moved to Renee and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His smile was laced with annoyance.
Cassie looked from her best friend to the barman, a bemused look as she tried to comprehend just what was going on. No. She understood what was going on, just not when it had happened, nor how.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” Melinda snapped out of her mood in order to greet the imposing Layth Sati. He was enormous. The kitchen was not large anyway, but with his hulking frame in the mix, it felt crowded and suffocating. Or was that just her?
“Please, call me Layth.”
“Oh, Mel won’t be able to do that.” Cassie teased, moving her slender frame between her friend and the wall to reach the coffee pot. “It’s in the job.”
“I work for the UN,” she said with a nod. “I don’t think I could call you anything but by your title even if I had a gun to my head.”
His smile was a flicker. “Even if I said I don’t like my title?”
“I suppose if it’s a diplomatic request,” she pretended to think about it. She nodded. “Fine, Layth.”
“And Renee you know?” Cassie prompted, remembering belatedly the deal Layth had made to be informed when Cassie returned to the bar.
“Of course.” He nodded at the French man.
“Well,” Cassie leaned against the window, coffee mug in hand. “This should be fun.” Her eyes lifted to Layth’s. As usual, knowledge and understanding passed between them. It was just the two of them, in their own world. They blocked everyone out effortlessly.
