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‘I want you to be happy.’
Her smile was weak. ‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘Damn it, it’s not kind. I have been the exact opposite of kind, please don’t say otherwise. But I do want to fix this, India, and I have every intention of succeeding.’
Her stomach squeezed. ‘Why?’
Silence fell, thudding around them, and finally, he spoke. ‘Our children deserve that we at least try, don’t they?’
‘But how do we do that? After everything that’s gone between us?’
‘Have dinner with me tonight.’
‘We have an event.’
‘We’ll skip it. It doesn’t matter. This is more important.’
Something fluttered in her chest. But hope refused to settle. ‘I don’t think a dinner is going to solve this.’ Whatever good he claimed lay between them, there was bad, too, and it stretched unendingly.
‘Isn’t it worth, at least, the attempt?’
Her eyes probed his, her heart frozen in her chest, her nerves firing disjointedly. Was he right? Did they owe it to their children to at least attempt to form a truce of sorts?
‘Where?’ she said, after a beat.
Satisfaction arranged his features. ‘Leave the details to me. I’ll meet you here, at eight.’
In the end, he sent a servant instead, a man dressed in a suit who greeted India one minute after the hour. India wore a simple dress—the same one she’d brought with her from America—and teamed it with a pair of sandals. She’d left her hair out, flowing loose down her back in voluminous waves. The servant took her away from the guest suites and through the palace, a circuitous route that she would have no hope of backtracking if she were forced to make her own way. Eventually, they emerged into a courtyard, and, beyond it, a large open space that housed a gleaming black helicopter.
Khalil stood beside it, his arms crossed, his eyes watchful.
She was a mix of nerves and anticipation, but it was anticipation that was at the fore as she moved towards the vehicle, the servant forgotten, nothing penetrating her mind now but this man and her awareness of him.
‘Good evening, India.’
His voice wrapped around her, warmer than the night air. ‘Khalil,’ she responded in kind, dipping her head in a nod, earning a smile from him.
‘After you.’ He gestured to the rear doors of the helicopter.
She hesitated.
‘Is there a problem?’
She sent him a sidelong glance. ‘Well, I’ve never been in one before,’ she said with a slight laugh.
‘There’s a first time for everything.’
He was right, and their marriage would be like this too. It would be a first for them both, and they would need to learn a lot as they went. Screwing up her courage, she stepped into the helicopter. And though she was braced for it to be luxurious, the sheer decadence of the interior nonetheless took her breath away. From the plush white leather seats to the wood grain details, to the bar fridge in the centre that boasted an array of expensive champagne, she felt as though she’d entered the twilight zone.
‘Would you like a drink?’
‘Mineral water?’
He nodded, indicating that she should take a seat on the long bank of three at the rear of the helicopter. She did so, fastening her seat belt while he retrieved a couple of bottles of water.
A moment after he took the seat beside her, the rotor blades began to spin, and the door was slammed shut by a servant.
She jumped, so he laughed softly. ‘Relax, azeezi.’ He leaned closer to her. ‘It’s perfectly safe.’
