Chapter Four
MALIK PACED THE large room that promised to be a master suite, if it was ever finished.
The walls were plastered, electrics apparently wired.
Only the decoration and furniture were missing, unlike the en suite bathroom.
That had been finished to such a high standard, it even included an abundance of fluffy towels, two large robes and a myriad of branded soaps, oils and creams. It was as though it were ready for a photoshoot, and had quite possibly been used to give the suggestion that the villa was further in on the work than it actually was.
The decor was far too lavish for his palate, but as his sister-in-law had once ruefully pointed out, his taste ran to the austere. And not in a good way.
The thought of Yara made him wince internally.
He knew she was frustrated with him for not meeting his brother’s doctors.
She’d been kind enough not to call him a coward.
He’d thrown as many things in the way of it as he could—the engagement, the country’s needs—but it didn’t change the way it hung over his head like a sword.
They wanted him to make the decision to take his brother off life support.
Just the thought of it was a punch to the gut, low and hard.
While Yara was his brother’s wife, Malik was the highest authority in Omrhain, and the decision to stop the treatment, which wasn’t treatment at all, was his alone.
He knew what Yara wanted. He knew that she would never allow her beloved husband to suffer needlessly for a single moment.
And Aayan was older now than he had been when Ishmail first had his accident.
Thirteen was a near lifetime from ten in understanding and emotional intelligence, and while Aayan wrestled with it, Malik knew that his nephew would also not hold the decision against him.
But Malik would. Because if he did it, if he decided to end his brother’s life support, what kind of brother did that make him?
A flash of furious lightning strobed into the room, followed immediately by a tremendous bomb that rattled the villa’s foundation. He warily eyed the ceiling, hoping that at least the workmen had finished the roof.
‘Is that you, Ishmail?’ he whispered and was only half surprised when another lightning strike cut through the room in a flash.
Thunder had the villa trembling and his conscience stirred as he thought of how Hana had looked half terrified at the storm through the feat of engineering that had been the near-panoramic wrap-around window.
‘Okay, okay. I’ll go and make sure she’s fine,’ he groused and stalked back down the corridor and into the open expanse of the living area.
But she wasn’t there.
Malik stalked over to the large open-plan kitchenette and opened the door to what was—or would be—a utility room. Not finding her there, he ventured down the corridor on the other side of the living area that led to more rooms.
The hallway had large cut-out sections with reinforced glass, ones that would usually fill the space with a sense of light and expanse, but right now with the clouds so dark and threatening, it seemed only to steal any sense of space or time.
He peered into one room that looked like an office, while another was a large bathroom, and found a large guest room at the very end of the corridor. But Hana was nowhere to be found.
Fighting a growing sense of unease with frustration, Malik returned to the hallway, wondering what kind of trouble could she get herself into now, when he caught sight of something outside through the large glass panels.
And then he let out both a growl and a curse.
Hana had ventured out into the storm for some inexplicable reason and was fighting the winds and the rain trying to get back to the villa. For a single moment of absolute frustration, he thought about leaving her to it, and then she stumbled and he was out of the villa in a heartbeat.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he shouted over the roar of the winds as he finally reached her.
‘I just… I,’ she tried again, but was nearly pushed back off her feet.
She reached up to push back a thick rope of wet hair that fell across her face, and blinked into the rain, droplets clinging to thick dark lashes, and his gaze unerringly found the little mole at the corner of her eye.
Shaking his head, Malik reached for her arm to steady her and cursed again. She was soaked through.
He plucked the bundle she was carrying from her, tucking it under one arm, and swept her into the other, utterly clueless as to what had possessed her to go out in the middle of a storm that had all of his security staff grounded.
‘Would you stop getting into trouble for just five minutes? Please?’ he asked, truly almost ready to beg at this point.
She tried to look up at him, and he caught a flash of honey-brown eyes before her hair whipped around her face and they were lashed with another wave of rain.
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but he hauled her back towards the villa before they both got pneumonia.
And there was no way that he’d let that happen.
He already had plans to throttle her himself.
Malik was looking at her like he wanted to strangle her.
She hadn’t wanted him to come out to get her.
She’d been almost back to the villa when he’d found her, and she didn’t want to think about how relieved she’d been to see him.
Or how it had made her realise that no one had done that before—come looking for her.
But as they stood in the middle of the kitchenette, their rain-soaked clothes dripping water onto the floor, she didn’t think that he’d appreciate hearing that.
‘Princess—’
‘Hana,’ she said, interrupting him. ‘I think you can call me Hana now.’
Surely if any situation extended beyond the bounds of usual decorum, then this was it?
Malik looked at her as if he wasn’t sure that he was ready to afford her such familiarity before begrudgingly offering, ‘Malik.’
It was the first time she’d heard his name out loud. She’d said it often in her mind, thought of him that way, but hearing it seemed to remove an invisible barrier that had been placed between them.
The rain had plastered his black clothes against his body and she could see the outline of the body that had protected her from the elements outside. Did he even know how good he looked right now? What just the sight of him was doing to her?
‘What was so important that you had to go out in that?’ he demanded, giving the bundle a prod where he’d slung it onto the kitchen countertop.
‘Food,’ she forced out through teeth that were beginning to chatter. A shiver tripped way down her spine and despite trying to hold it in, she saw his eyes catch the way it rippled over her body.
‘Food?’ he asked, his gaze eventually returning to hers.
She nodded. ‘I… I didn’t know how long we might be stuck here for,’ she stammered. ‘Breakfast was a long time ago.’
‘Breakfast?’ he asked glancing at his watch and frowning. ‘It’s six in the evening. What about lunch?’
‘I was—’ planning your kidnap ‘—busy,’ she finished weakly, blushing when his brow rose as if he’d known exactly what she’d nearly said.
Malik went over to the bedsheet she’d used as a makeshift bag and filled with as much food as she could find, knowing that she only wanted to make one trip.
He prised open the sodden knot in the bedsheet and revealed what she’d managed to forage.
‘Where did you get all this?’ he demanded.
‘There’s a staff annex at the back of the villa. The builders used it when they were on site, according to my…’
‘Accomplice?’
She pressed her lips together and nodded. She’d got enough people in trouble, she didn’t want to add any more to the growing list.
Malik looked at the tins and packets she’d found. He wasn’t entirely sure they all were, but from the looks of the storm they could be here a while, and they would most definitely need food at some point.
Another violent shiver rolled across her body and he cut his glare back at her before looking at his own clothes as if he hadn’t even realised that he was soaked.
‘We’re going to have to get out of these,’ he forced out through a jaw that was clenched so tightly she could see the flex of muscles.
Hana blinked.
‘No.’
‘What?’ he asked.
‘No! I have—’
‘Dignity? Propriety? A reputation to uphold?’ he interrupted. ‘You kidnapped—’
‘For the last time, I didn’t kidnap you. I just wanted to talk to you. And yes, I can still have dignity and a sense of propriety,’ she insisted primly.
‘Only if you want to catch pneumonia,’ he bit out under his breath. She could feel the tension radiating from him where he stood.
‘I couldn’t possibly let you see me like that,’ she stressed.
‘Like you saw me?’ he bit out, making her realise what was hidden beneath the layers of his frustration; embarrassment and hurt.
She took in the way he stiffened, the way his shoulder bunched, his hand fisted at his side.
‘Malik…’
‘It’s not important,’ he dismissed. But she knew he was lying. She wanted to reassure him, to tell him that the scar hadn’t disturbed her the way he seemed to think it might have. But she didn’t think he’d believe her.
‘When I saw you—’ she tried.
‘You shouldn’t have seen me at all!’ he shouted as though unable to control himself, and Hana took a step back.
Instantly he looked down, ashamed, and she regretted the small action that had made him feel that way.
‘It’s okay,’ he said, holding his hand up to cut off any further conversation. ‘I get it. You wanted to know if the rumours were true before you broke the engagement.’
‘No,’ she denied. ‘That’s not…that’s not it at all. I never wanted to call off the wedding, clearly. I’ve done all this,’ she said, her arms out to the island, ‘to get you to agree to marry me. I just…wanted to see you first, before we met in front of our families.’
He blinked. ‘Why?’