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His eyes though were pure Zamir. Heavily specked with amber and gold, they regarded her as though she were a fascinating specimen of insect. “Leave us.”
Marook did so immediately and without a word; Olivia was sorry to see him go. Though she didn’t know him well, she still considered him to be a sort of ally, and his presence had been slightly mollifying.
“So. You are the American.”
She nodded, though she was no such thing. He had an air of authority that was humbling and awe-inspiring.
“Come closer.”
She swallowed then took a step, and another, and another after that, moving forward nervously. She had no idea what a picture she made, lit up like gold dust and flickering flame, as she glided gently over the marble floor. The dress brought out the green of her eyes and her hair, silky and fair, had been braided into a long rope down her back. She was beautiful and she was vulnerable, and despite himself, and his intention to berate the woman who was making his son miserable, Faisal felt an unfurling of pity. For if Zamir was miserable, so too was this woman.
“Sit. Please.” He gestured to one of the cream chairs before him.
She did so, and her anxiety was a cloak that draped around her as she clasped her fingers in her lap and held his eyes with obvious effort. It was an effort he admired, for it was brave and determined.
“You are Olivia Henderson.”
She nodded and then cleared her throat. “Yes, sir.”
Faisal eased himself into the chair opposite, wincing a little as his body made its complaint felt.
“I understand you have taken great pains to make my oldest son comfortable.”
She stared at him for a moment, not comprehending what he meant.
“Ra’if speaks very highly of you,” he added.
“Oh.” Her smile now was natural, and it transformed her face into, perhaps, one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. “He’s just being kind.”
“No, he’s not.” Faisal’s laugh was a hoarse bark. “He is rarely generous with praise. But he seems to have only good thoughts for you.”
She tilted her head to the side. “It’s mutual. I enjoyed spending time with him.”
“Yes. Why did you?”
Her feet were nudging closer to dangerous ground.
“I’m sorry, sir, I’m not sure I understand.”
“Zamir believes you might be interested in marrying Ra’if.”
Her mouth dropped open at the very idea. Of course, she knew that Zamir had been jealous, but not that he would go so far as to spread his nonsensical theories as fact.
“Zamir is wrong,” she spoke matter-of-factly despite the pangs of hurt clawing into her heart. “I spent time with Ra’if, initially, because I thought he might be lonely after Zamir left. We became friends.”
“And you claim that friends is all you are to each other?”
“Yes.”
“I understand you have been an excellent companion to Ra’if. It seems strange that you would choose to spend your time with a man like him.”
Offense coursed through her. “A man like him? Your son is wise and kind, funny and sweet. Of course I spent time with him.” She bit down on her lower lip. “He’s doing so well now. I imagine you’ll find him almost like his old self, when he returns.”
Faisal ran a hand over his chin. “This pleases me,” he assured her, but he found himself confused by her staunch defence. “I still do not understand why you sought this relationship.”
Because Zamir loved him. And that mattered to me. “Zamir was seeing Ra’if every day. He left Las Vegas abruptly and I thought … I knew Ra’if would feel his absence. I worried it might even derail his recovery.”
“And so you stepped into Zamir’s shoes?” He prompted dubiously.
