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Besides, it had all been over—so what would have been the point of saying anything? And she hadn’t wanted the footnote to their marriage to be just another meaningless apology.
She felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe she should have told him... But there was no point thinking about that now. This time tomorrow he would be out of her life for good. Better to concentrate her energies on surviving the ordeal ahead.
The lift stopped and the doors opened onto another beautiful marble interior. Lined up waiting for them were four women, all wearing neat black uniforms, and a tall man in a dark suit.
‘As-salam alaykum.’ Stepping forward, the man inclined his head.
‘Wa’alaykum as-salam.’ Delphi smiled stiffly, glancing round the beautiful empty foyer.
‘Samir, this is my wife, Sayeda Delphi.’ Omar turned towards her. ‘Samir is in charge of the household staff.’
‘Welcome home, sir...madam. I hope you had a restful flight.’
Delphi froze. Home! The word punched a hole in her composure. What did he mean by that? Had she misheard him or was it some kind of language mix-up?
Something of what she was feeling must have shown in her face, because in the next moment Omar had fired off a round of Arabic, and Samir had inclined his head again, then turned and retreated, accompanied by the women.
‘What’s going on?’ She turned to Omar, her eyes narrowing. ‘You said I was staying at a hotel.’
He strode past her without answering, the movement of his body illuminating his path just as if he was some mythical god. For a moment she hesitated, but where was she going to go? She swore softly and then, gritting her teeth, she followed him inside, panic swelling against her breastbone as an expanse of pale walls and richly coloured furnishings in Pharaoh hues of blue, yellow, white and black led into a huge open-plan living area.
Omar stopped and turned to face her.
‘No, I said you would be staying at the Lulua, and you are.’
She stared at him, hating him, fighting the desire just to look at him in wonder. Despite the long flight, and the heat and the tension between them, he looked cool and relaxed. Now she was fighting a different desire: to take off her espadrilles and throw them at his head.
‘There are two parts to the complex. The hotel next door.’ His eyes locked with hers. ‘And the private apartments.’
Private.The word shivered across her skin, and she stared at him mutely. Warning bells were ringing so loudly in her head that she was surprised the fire service hadn’t turned up.
‘And where will you be staying?’ she asked slowly.
He smiled then. It was a smile that might spread across the face of the villain in a film. The sort of smile that denoted mockery or madness, and usually pre-empted a nasty surprise for the heroine or hero. So even before he replied she knew what his answer would be.
‘Why, here, of course.’
Tipping back his head, he stretched out his shoulders, just as if he was still her husband, returning home after a long working day. Only that had never happened, she thought savagely, because after the first week of married life she had given up waiting for him and gone to bed alone.
‘There’s no “of course” about it,’ she said.
Her voice sounded breathless and high, but for once she didn’t care that she was revealing her feelings. ‘Private’ plus Omar equalled a bad idea, she thought, her skin shrivelling with panic and with something else—something she wasn’t even going to acknowledge, much less give a name to.
She watched his forehead crease.
‘Why are you making this into such a big deal? It’s a triplex apartment. Our paths will hardly cross. It’s quiet and private. There’s a gym, a sauna and a pool. There’s even a cinema room.’
‘I don’t care about the facilities,’ she snapped. ‘This isn’t what I agreed to.’
She had thought she would be staying at a hotel. Hotels were neutral spaces populated by strangers. Any space she shared alone with Omar was never going to be neutral.
His dark eyes hadn’t moved from her face. ‘What you agreed to, Delphi, is that while you’re here in Dubai there is no “I”. There’s only “we”. And we will be staying in our apartment—together.’
She stared at him mutinously. ‘I’d rather stay at the hotel.’ She didn’t want to share this apartment with him and be reminded of the apartment she had lived in when she had believed herself loved. The apartment she had left behind. She needed time alone to steel herself for the ordeal to come.
‘The hotel is fully booked.’
‘Then I’ll stay at another hotel.’
