Читать книгу Royal Temptation - Carol Marinelli - Страница 18

CHAPTER TEN

MIKAEL WOKE TO the sound of Layla ordering her usual thinly sliced and peeled apple with mint tea and water.

‘And coffee,’ Mikael said. ‘And cake.’

‘Cake?’ Layla frowned.

‘Cake,’ he said.

‘Could we have some chocolate cake and coffee too?’ Layla said to the chef. ‘And I would like my slice of cake just a little bit warm, with lots of cream to pour over it.’ She ended the call and gave Mikael a wide smile. ‘I love this phone; it’s just fantastic.’

‘I thought you’d always be ringing down your orders in your palace?’

‘No.’ Layla shook her head. ‘I just tell Jamila what I want and she gets it for me.’

‘So Jamila’s your maid?’

‘My handmaiden,’ Layla said. ‘She has been with me since the day I was born.’

‘Like a mum?’

‘No!’ She laughed at the very thought. ‘You don’t love servants…’ Her face was suddenly serious. ‘I do feel a bit sick, though, at the moment when I think of her. She will be so worried. Oh, poor Jamila!’

‘Sounds a lot like love to me,’ Mikael said.

‘So,’ Layla asked, ‘now that the trial is over, do you get that time off you talked about?’

He gave a wry smile. His work had barely begun. There would be sentencing, appeals… He closed his eyes at the thought of it all for a moment.

‘I have a very busy day today. I have to meet with my client, his family.’ God, Mikael knew where he’d rather be.

‘That’s fine. I am going to take a ferry and I am also going to do the Sydney Harbour Bridge climb.’

Mikael lay there and told himself that Layla was twenty-four. She wasn’t incapable. In fact she was possibly the cleverest person he had ever met…

And yet…

That gnawing of unease he had felt the first night when he had called the hotel to see what was happening was back.

It wasn’t Layla so much who concerned him but others. She had been so protected it simply didn’t enter her head that people might not be nice to her.

He closed his eyes as there was a knock at the door and tried to tell himself that he was overreacting, that of course she’d be fine out there without him.

Breakfast was delivered, along with something that Mikael was a bit embarrassed about now but had seemed a nice idea last night—there was a phone in the bathroom, after all…

‘Flowers!’ Layla was ecstatic ‘And a card!’ She opened it. ‘What does it say?’

Mikael groaned. He’d forgotten in the moment when he’d ordered them that she couldn’t read English, and now he’d have to read it out loud to her—but he waited till all the staff had gone.

‘“Layla, Thank you for an amazing end to a difficult day and an even more amazing night. Mikael.”’

‘No kisses?’ Layla asked.

‘Three.’

‘Wow! Thank you! I will keep this for ever—maybe I hide it in my shoe or something, but I will find a safe place for it.’

‘Layla, I don’t want to get you in trouble…’ Mikael halted. They were approaching the halfway mark of her week and four more nights were starting not to seem enough.

‘Look, about today—’

‘Mikael,’ she interrupted, ‘I want to have a day to myself. Please don’t ask me to stay in the hotel.’

‘Okay.’ He pushed out a smile. ‘You’ll need some cash.’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Ask the hotel to organise a driver to take you wherever you want to go.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Take my number with you.’

She did.

She bought some white jeans and a top and some sandals from the boutique in the foyer, along with a handbag, and she was ready for her day of adventure.

Layla was worried that she might run into Trinity or Zahid, but at the same time she was determined that even if she did she would very simply refuse to return until her week was up.

She did not use the phone to organise a driver. Instead she decided to try taking a taxi again.

It was far easier the second time around, and she put on her seatbelt and understood that at the end she had to pay him.

Everything on her list Layla did.

She stood on the top of the bridge, being battered by the wind, and life felt so exhilarating that it was as if she were on the top of the world. Then she took a ferry to Manly and ordered a burger with ‘the lot’ and a can of lemonade, and she met some Dutch backpackers who were very serious but very lovely. They told her that she had to do the night-time harbour cruise while she was there.

‘I don’t know where to go,’ she said.

‘We’ll show you.’

The cruise started long after sunset and went on for three magical hours. It was wonderful to see the Sydney skyline from the water at night. She could see the Opera House and the bridge all lit up. There was wine and a meal, though the prawns were not as nice as the ones she had had with Mikael, but she heard all the history—about Captain Cook and the convicts—and it was simply magical to sit with her new friends and listen, and feel the warm air on her skin.

She took a taxi back to the hotel, elated from a wonderful day out, tired and ready to have a bath and sleep. But as she opened her hotel door she jumped in surprise to see Mikael—and it was a Mikael that she had never seen before.

His face was grey and he did not return her smile when she walked in.

‘Layla…’ He was struggling to keep his voice even. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Doing the things on my list.’ Layla smiled. ‘I had a fantastic day.’’

‘It’s after midnight.’

‘I did a cruise…’

‘And you didn’t think to call me?’

‘Call you?’ She frowned. ‘You said to only call you in emergencies.’

Mikael had had a day like no other. The moment he had got to work he had changed his mind and called the room, only to find that she had already left.

He had got through his work as best he could but had then cleared his desk for the rest of the week, berating himself for leaving her alone.

It had been a very, very long night, and now there she stood, her hair whipped by the wind, her cheeks pink from too much sun. He pulled out his phone and fired a rapid text as, unknown to Layla, he had each night she’d been there—though never as late as it was this time.

Just to let you know, Layla is fine.

‘Who are you texting at this time of night?’

‘Your brother,’ Mikael said. ‘As I have every night.’

‘Why would you do that?’ she demanded.

‘Because he cares about you, Layla.’ Mikael was having great trouble not shouting. ‘Because he must feel sick wondering just how the hell you are and whether or not you are safe, and a text—one bloody text—must surely help, just as one bloody phone call might have…’

He stopped himself. The relief he had felt as she’d walked through the door had flicked to anger and he was not used to it, for he had never really cared enough about another person, or been scared for them before.

‘You have no idea the trouble you will have caused for me!’ Layla roared. ‘My brother will be furious that I am with a man this late at night.’

‘Well, you should have thought of that,’ he said. ‘Did it never enter your head that I might be worried?’

It truly hadn’t, and her eyes told him the same—which only incensed him even further. ‘You, Layla, are the most selfish person I have ever met.’

‘Selfish?’ she shouted. ‘How dare you call me selfish? I bought you a snowglobe.’ She went to get it out of her bag, except Mikael was picking up his keys. ‘Where are you going?’

‘You’ve got a nerve to ask.’

‘Mikael…’

He didn’t answer. Instead he left, and she stood in the lovely suite alone.

She looked out to the dark sky and waited for him to come back.

And waited.

‘Where are you Mikael?’ she said to the streets below the hotel.

She loathed it. And she was starting to understand—because she wasn’t scared for him, she just missed him, and she didn’t like the row that had taken place. She was cross, too, for him texting Zahid—and yet she was starting to glimpse why he had.

Mikael was angry for about another twelve minutes and then he pulled his car over and sat on the edge of the road. The fear that had clutched him all day didn’t come close to the fear he felt as he looked at the clock on his dashboard and saw the time and the date: it dawned on him they were at the halfway mark before Layla returned to her family.

He sat there for a long time, because it took a very long time for him to process it. He had never known love nor loved anyone before.

He had cared for others—sometimes a little, sometimes a lot—but he had never actually known love, and now here it was.

He didn’t want to get closer to her—there was no point, because very soon she would be gone.

When she called he didn’t pounce; he did not want to feel the way he did. But he answered his phone on the third ring.

‘I know it is wrong to call you so late…’

Layla gulped and he closed his eyes, for he did not want to be moved by her distress, and yet his heart twisted as she continued.

‘But it is an emergency of my heart, Mikael. I can’t stop crying.’