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She didn’t hear the knock on the door; she was so caught up in her own world.
“Can I, mama?”
“Can you what, darling?” She said finally, drawing her eyes away from the stove top, where she was mixing more lard and flour to create a new gravy, to look at Jordan questioningly.
“Can I answer it?”
“Oh!” She shook her head and turned the heat off the stove. “May you answer it,” she corrected. “And no. Not until you’re tall enough to see through here. You know the rule.” She pointed to the peephole then pressed her eye against it. Her heart gave a little jolt when she saw Ra’if on the other side. He looked … immaculate. No hint of vomit or sleeplessness coated him.
Steeling herself to be strong, she pulled the door inwards.
But when Jordan saw the powerful Sheikh, he grinned. “Ra’if.” He ran towards him. “I knew you’d come!” He threw his arms around Ra’if’s legs and Ra’if lifted him up on instinct.
“Merry Christmas, young man,” he said.
“Merry Christmas to you too,” Jordan grinned. “Come in, come in, let me show you what Santa got me!”
“I’d love to see,” he shifted his eyes to Melinda. There was a reserve in his face and she understood it. “If that’s okay with your mother?”
“Of course it is,” Jordan said with a roll of his enormous, lash-lined eyes.
“Melinda?”
“Yes, yes. Come in.” She stepped back, removing any likelihood that they might touch.
Once the door was shut, Jordan pulled on Ra’if’s hand. “Come here! I want to show you this.”
Ra’if didn’t convey a hint of impatience. He went with Jordan and crouched down on the floor, genuinely appearing to enthuse over the gifts. Melinda watched, something strange lodging in her chest.
It was a feeling she couldn’t name.
“I have something for you,” he said quietly, reaching into his coat and pulling out a small box.
Melinda watched, a little wary that Ra’if might have bought something too extravagant and inappropriate. But when the present inside was revealed, and Jordan’s face burst with excitement, she saw it was just a collection of Pokémon cards.
“There are some rare ones in there,” he said as he stood.
“Mum! Mum! Can I please go show Kelvin?”
Melinda compressed her lips, still not ready to forgive Tara’s son for his insensitive remarks. But she nodded, unable to resist her son’s jubilant face. “Don’t stay long though, darling; they’re going out for lunch.”
“Okay. You’re the best, mum. Thanks, Ra’if.” He barrelled out of the door and loud thumping noises accompanied his journey upstairs.
“He’s had a great morning?” Ra’if commented with a smile, standing and moving closer to Melinda.
“Presents. Food. What’s not to love?”
“And you?” Ra’if asked softly.
She shrugged, her eyes shadowed by wariness. “You know how I feel about Christmas.” She cast a look over her shoulder, as if to ensure they were alone. “What happened with Brent?”
“He’s already at the facility,” Ra’if said, assuming a business-like stance. “I have entrusted his care to one of my most valued servants. He will not leave until he has conquered his addictions.” Ra’if didn’t want to sugar coat it, though. “His situation is … quite dire. He has been addicted for a very long time, and addicted to a lot of substances. Not good quality, either. He’s had drugs that have been cut with everything from glass to fertiliser. He’s lucky to be alive.”
She shivered and found she couldn’t stop. Ra’if wrapped his arms around her. Melinda didn’t fight it. Without his physical strength, she thought she might fall over.
“Thank you. I know money is no issue for you but I’m sure his parents will want to try to make restitution …”
“Please don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t insult me by believing I care about such trivialities.”
