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Her soft whispers as she spoke to the young doctor, the quiet but husky chuckle, the trembling shoulders...everything about her called to him.
If only he could see the beautiful, vapid, vain teen she’d suddenly turned into one summer, he’d have no problem dealing with her.
His disastrous marriage to Jacqueline Yusuf—a sophisticated model and businesswoman he’d once considered his equal in every way—had completely cured him of the stupidity of trusting his judgment when it came to women.
But Yana...had always been indefinably stubborn and refused to be slotted into any one box.
He couldn’t look at her and not remember the fifteen-year-old who’d shyly hero-worshipped him the first time he’d visited his father and his new wife. Or the one who’d begged for his autograph on a first edition. Or the passionate, sweet teenager who’d yelled and cried when he’d killed off her favorite character, or the hug she’d given him with an endearing smile on her suddenly stunning face when he’d brought that favorite character of hers back to life in the next novel.
He couldn’t not see the nineteen-year-old who’d shocked him by walking through his room ditching pieces of clothing on the way to his bed, boldly declaring that she loved him with all of her heart, body and soul.
Or the girl who’d lied to her mother that Nasir had kissed her. Or the woman who’d looked as if she’d been dealt a staggering blow when Jacqueline, her friend and mentor, had introduced him as her fiancé. Or the woman who’d barely met his eyes when she’d stood by Jacqueline’s side when they’d gotten married.
Or the woman who’d lied more than once to help hide Jacqueline’s many affairs from him. Or the woman who’d stayed by Jacqueline’s bedside for the last few weeks during her battle with cancer.
Or the woman who had miraculously managed to carve a place for herself in his young daughter’s heart. Or the woman he’d touched in tenderness after Jacqueline had died, not a few minutes before his lawyers had discovered that Jacqueline had been preparing to sue him for solo custody of Zara, and Yana would have been the character witness to prove his negligence toward his daughter.
And yet, he’d learned, only after Jacqueline had died, how Yana had spent hours entertaining Zara, watching her, cooking for her, reading to her while Jacqueline was supposed to have been looking after her, how much attention she’d bestowed on his daughter when it should have been her mother doing that, how many times Jacqueline had dropped her off with Yana.
Yana Auntie this, Yana Auntie that...It was all his five-year-old girl would speak of. Just when Nasir had written Yana off entirely, the blasted woman revealed a new, complex dimension to herself that had dragged him back under her spell.
She loathed him and yet, she was capable of genuinely loving his child. What was he supposed to make of her? If only this ridiculous attraction he’d fought for so long would fade.
But he needed her and damn it, he needed Yana well again and ready to spar with him.
He needed her to not look like a lost waif, one hard breath away from falling apart. He needed her to fight him tooth and nail so that he didn’t have to feel guilty about how he’d talked to her tonight.
Shehadjust lost her grandparents—the only responsible adults she’d known in her life. And he’d done nothing but insult her and minimize her very real grief.
He’d never met another woman who provoked such extreme reactions in him. Not even Fatima—the woman he’d loved a lifetime ago—had tied him up in knots like Yana did.
From the tendrils of tenderness that had swamped him as he’d held her, to the rage that she didn’t care enough about her own health. Even back then, he’d only learned of her diabetes when she’d gone into shock due to low sugar levels. It had been reckless and naive and foolish at sixteen. Now, almost thirteen years later... Had she still no sense of self-preservation?
What if he hadn’t been there to catch her when she’d fainted and force feed her the bar of chocolate when she’d recovered consciousness? What if no one knew her whereabouts and she’d lain there for hours, going into shock? What if he’d had to inform his child that her Yana Auntie had taken seriously ill, too?
And he was inviting this...train wreck, this selfish, infuriatingly stubborn woman into his precious little girl’s life.
Into his own life.
Into his space—his haven, which he allowed no one into.
It was like issuing an invitation to chaos and mayhem and sheer madness to reside in his house, in his head, in his heart.
“Here, sir,” said Ahmed, stalling his walk, a bottle of water in his hand.
Nasir shook his head, too tired to reprimand the older man for addressing him using the honorific.
“Is Ms. Reddy okay, do you think?”
On cue, Yana laughed, leaning toward the young doctor.
Hewasn’tjealous of her attention toward the damned doctor, or her laughter or whatever it was she was saying to him.He wasn’t.
“It was a miracle you caught her, Inshallah,” Ahmed continued, unaware of his employer’s roiling emotions. “Or she might have really hurt herself.”
Nasir grunted and restarted his perambulations of the lounge, cutting closer and closer to where the doctor was now entering her phone number into his own cell phone. If he gritted his teeth any tighter, he was going to need dental work.
“Did the doctor say what caused the faint?” Ahmed asked.
