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Just one unfeeling, infuriatingly arrogant husband, she thought, glancing over at Omar.
‘Something to say, Delphi?’ he said softly.
Plenty, she thought, but it would be wasted on him. After all, in less than twenty-four hours he would be out of her life for good.
Keeping that fact at the front of her mind, she shrugged. ‘I was just thinking it’s a shame you didn’t leave your phone at home. But then I suppose that would mean you’d be off-grid, and you’ve never let anything, including our marriage, get in the way of work before. Why should your father’s ninetieth birthday be any different?’
A cool shiver ran down her spine as he gave her a long, steady look. ‘I was replying to a message from my sister Jalila. She texted me to say how much she is looking forward to finally meeting you.’
She felt her body tense. There was an edge to his voice—probably because she’d called him out for always being on his phone—but it felt like an attack. As if it was her fault that she and Jalila had never met. But Omar had never encouraged her to meet his family.
She had met his parents briefly in New York, a month after their wedding. What she’d noticed most about his mother, Maryam, was how much younger she was than her husband. And as for Rashid... Like his son, he was a master at controlling social situations, so it was hard to say for sure, but she’d got the impression that Rashid was either bored or distracted, maybe both. Either way, they hadn’t stayed long.
And, despite his having sixteen of them, she had never met any of his half-siblings. For some reason she still didn’t understand it had just never happened. But then she was so close to her own family she hadn’t given it much thought.
She felt a sharp pang of homesickness, like she had in the hospital. Her brothers Ed, Scott and Will had welcomed Omar into their homes and into their hearts, and they had encouraged her to let down her guard, to stop shielding herself from her feelings.
Her heart thudded. Thinking about telling them that her marriage was over made her feel sick. It was even worse when she thought about Dan. Even though he had done nothing but love and support her, she knew he would blame himself and that she was going to break his heart.
Just as her mother, Ianthe, had done.
‘I need you to do something.’
Omar’s voice cut across her thoughts and she stared at him warily. ‘You’ve dragged me halfway around the globe to spare your blushes, so I think I’m already doing enough, don’t you?’
Immediately she wished she hadn’t said anything. His expression was like stone, but there was a glitter in his dark eyes that made her breath catch.
‘Out of the two of us, Delphi, I’m not the one prone to blushing.’
He paused and she saw something in his eyes that darted though her, hot and unchecked like the lick of a flame.
‘But perhaps you need me to refresh your memory.’
For a moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of any kind of comeback. She was swamped by the slow, heavy pounding of her heart. It was true. Omar knew exactly how to make her skin grow warm, in public and in private, with his eyes, his hands, his tongue...
She swallowed. ‘I don’t require any reminders. That’s why I want a divorce.’
He stared at her steadily. ‘And, as I told you before, until that happens, you’re still my wife. So tonight, for reasons I shouldn’t have to explain, you will need to wear a ring.’
There was a short, stiff silence, and then he held out his hand. Heart hammering, she stared down at the fine silver band. It looked so similar to the one Omar had given her in Vegas she might have thought it was that very ring. Only she knew the original was tucked into the pocket of her toiletries bag.
Don’t, she warned herself.
But it was too late, she was already there in the Little Chapel of Love, with Omar beside her, tall and handsome and serious, his dark eyes holding her steady, holding her safe.
And yet she hadn’t believed it was happening, that she was really there, exchanging vows with this shockingly beautiful man. She’d had to keep touching him, her hand trembling against his chest and his arm, even after he’d slid the ring on her finger, needing to make sure that he was real and that she wasn’t dreaming.
Beneath her ribs, her heart began beating unevenly. She had been wrong. For her, happy endings could only ever be a dream; that was something she’d known since waking to find herself an orphan at the age of four. Only back in Vegas, lost in the velvet-soft focus of his gaze she hadn’t wanted to believe it was true.
She did now.
Her pulse jerked as beside her, jaw tightening, Omar leaned forward. ‘Here, let me.’
‘No. I’ll do it,’ she snapped.
She wouldn’t let him take the memory of that day and turn it into something ugly. It was all she had left, and it wasn’t going to be ruined along with everything else.
Ignoring the tenderness in her chest, she picked up the ring and slid it onto her finger. It fitted perfectly—obviously—but that only rubbed more salt into the wound. It should be too big or too small, she thought dully.
