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Fury and frustration weighed heavily on his chest at her continued deceit. He tried a different approach. “I would be jealous, of course, as I hate to think of you ever having cared for another man. But we are married, now, Julia. Your past is in the past.”
The look she gave him was so obviously filled with confusion that he shook his head. Perhaps that night with Andrew had fallen through the cracks of her memory, too, for some reason. After all, he had incontrovertible proof that they had been together. Obviously not sexually, given his recent discovery that his wife had, in fact, been a virgin until very recently. But virginity didn’t mean she hadn’t been intimate with a man. There were many things a couple could do in bed together. The photographs were evidence they had been something more than the innocent friends she now claimed.
He gritted his teeth as he thought of the spoilt brat who had taken Julia away from him, four years ago. He’d had an investigator look into Andrew at the time, and what he’d learned had confirmed his worst suspicions. He was a time wasting, entitled snob, who’d been born to a super-wealthy family, and been raised for a life of idleness. He also had a pretty impressive drug addiction, or he had back then.
“Why do you think Andrew and I had a thing?” She asked perceptively. “He has always been a good friend to me, but nothing more.”
Zayn thought about the last time they’d seen the boy, at her father’s house. He hadn’t imagined the lingering looks at Julia, the way he sought out opportunities to touch her. “Perhaps I’m imagining things,” Zayn placated. There was, after all, no sense ruining what little time they had together before her memory returned with arguments that could certainly wait. That were waiting for him, even now, fraying at the edges of this mock paradise.
“I can’t think why,” she said, but there was a look of guilt on her face. Just when he had thought he’d been barking up the wrong tree.
“What is it?” He pushed, feeling suddenly sickened by the certainty that she was going to reveal the affair to him.
“I think he used to fancy me, that’s all.” She bit down on her lip. “It was a long time ago. He never did anything about it, and I was always glad.”
The photographs had been explicit. Though Julia had looked either passed out or wasted in most of them. Why had she sent them to him? By mistake? To hurt him? To make him chase her down? Zayn had been too proud to confront her then. After all, he was a Sheikh, and above begging. His pride had forced him to accept her decision and return to his life. But that course of action had been wrong. He should have confronted her, and begged her to at least explain herself.
Could she explain now? Would she want to?
He opened his mouth but closed it again, when the sound of a high pitched sound carried through the rustling leaves and reached their ears.
“What was that?” Julia asked, spinning on her heel and crouching down to look beneath the shrubby tops of the trees. The view through the spindly trunks was better, and as she did a slow three hundred and sixty degree turn, she saw a pair of skinny little legs running so fast they were almost blurry.
A woman’s voice, familiar somehow, speaking and laughing in Arabic, chased after the girl and Julia straightened. A blinding head ache exploded in her temple and she had to hold Zayn’s arm for support.
“Julia? What is it?” His face was ash beneath his golden skin.
“I…” She waited, only a few seconds, for the little girl to reach them. “Maysan,” she breathed out with relief. The little girl threw herself at Julia’s legs with a big, bursting laugh, and Julia laughed, though her eyes were burning with tears. “I remember you.” She crouched down once more and put her arms around the little girl. Already, she felt more substantial than she had done the first time they’d met. Strange pieces of memory came back to her, but they were disconnected, as if in a film.
“I didn’t know you were here,” Adina said in English, walking with her elegant gait down the rows of trees to where they stood. She pressed a kiss against Zayn’s face, frowning a little as she registered the thunderclouds in his expression.
“Julia is not yet well enough to see people,” he intoned warningly.
Julia shook her head. “No, Zayn, this is helpful. Seeing you again, Adina, so much is coming back. You love desserts.”
Adina’s laugh was beautiful, like musical chimes and crashing waves. “Guilty as charged.”
“And you are looking after Maysan,” she guessed with a surging sense of relief.
“Thanks to you, yes. You told Zayn to call me, the day of your accident. She’s been staying here with us since then.”
“I’m so pleased,” Julia said earnestly. She knew there were still pieces to glue together. And she’d worked out just how to unearth them. The certainty that he was intentionally keeping her in the dark had grown. And out of nowhere, she realized she didn’t trust her husband. Not now, and not before the accident.
“Zayn, I have a terrible head ache suddenly. Do you think we might return home?”
* * *
Though Zayn had been incredibly attentive and watchful since her accident, he was a busy man, responsible for generating a small fortune every day. Meetings were unavoidable, though he’d cancelled or rescheduled as many as possible. All Julia had to do was wait; to wait until his next meeting took him from the home. As it happened, it was the morning after their trip to the palace. Her memory was fading in and out, but each time it faded in, it brought sharper clarity and detail into focus.
It would not be long before she had the answers.
“What will you do while I’m out?” Zayn asked, standing in the kitchen dressed in one of his immaculate, hand-stitched suits, sipping his thick black coffee.
Julia lifted her own mug to her lips and drank down the steaming brew gratefully. “I’m sure I’ll find something to keep me busy.”
She waited until his chauffeur driven car had left the compound-like house before setting her plan into action. With a fresh cup of steaming coffee, she moved slowly through the house. His office was on the ground floor, at the end of a long, tiled corridor. True to his word, there were hardly any staff members around, and besides that, who would care that she was entering his domain? She was his wife. Their house was hers as much as his, wasn’t it?
His laptop was open on the desk. He must have been using it that morning, because it was still opened, and no password was necessary to access the files.
