Kate Hewitt - Dreaming Of... France

You loved me once .

Yes, she had, and it was the memory of that love, painful as it was, that made her slowly nod. If she stayed, perhaps she’d get the closure she’d been seeking for so long. And not just closure, but answers. This could be, she knew, her opportunity to finally understand why Ammar had changed after their wedding, what had led him to reject her so humiliatingly and utterly.

Yet did she really want to open that Pandora’s box of memories, and the dark tangle of emotions that would surely erupt with it?

Noelle swallowed. She wouldn’t answer that yet. She just needed to accept. And her acceptance would be her ticket out of here. ‘All right, Ammar, I’ll stay until Sunday. But then you’re flying me back to Paris, and I’ll be back at work by nine a.m. on Monday.’

‘I suppose that’s fair.’

‘Fair?’ Noelle heard the bitterness spiking her voice, ten years of bitterness and memories and pain. ‘There’s nothing fair about it.’

Ammar nodded slowly. ‘Perhaps not,’ he agreed. ‘Life is never very fair.’ He turned back to the kitchen counter and stirred something on the stove. ‘Come, sit down and eat. You need fattening up.’

‘I’m fine the way I am,’ Noelle said sharply. She was so prickly. Three days and Ammar probably wouldn’t even want to be with her any more. A thought which should have brought relief, and yet irritatingly didn’t.

‘I agree,’ Ammar said in his calm, measured way. ‘Perhaps I am the one who needs fattening up.’

Noelle gave a small smile in spite of her every intention to remain composed, even cold. ‘You have lost weight,’ she remarked, although to her eyes he still looked lithe and powerful, the worn T-shirt hugging the sculpted lines of his chest and shoulders, the faded jeans riding low on his hips. She sat down at the table. ‘Was it awful?’ she asked quietly. ‘The crash?’

Ammar shrugged as he served her a fried egg and several rashers of bacon. She used to love the full fry-up back when she lived in London, but she hadn’t had more than black coffee and maybe a croissant for breakfast in years. ‘I don’t remember much of the actual crash.’

‘What happened?’

He sat opposite her with his own plate of eggs and bacon. ‘The helicopter engine failed. I don’t know why. Perhaps—’ He paused, gave a slight shake of his head, and then resumed. ‘In any case, we were going down and my father insisted I take the parachute.’

‘There was only one?’

‘Yes, and I think it was for situations like that one. He wanted to make sure he would be the one to survive.’

She stared at him, horrified. ‘But that’s … that’s criminal!’ The word seemed to remain there, suspended, between them.

‘My father,’ Ammar said quietly, ‘ was a criminal.’

Noelle didn’t answer. She really didn’t want to know just how criminal Balkri Tannous had been. Or his son. Swallowing, she said slowly, ‘But he did give it to you.’

‘Yes.’

‘A change of heart?’ She heard the faint note of cynicism in her voice, and knew Ammar heard it, too. He gazed at her sombrely.

‘I like to think so. He’d been diagnosed with cancer a few months before. Terminal, and it made him think. Reassess his priorities.’

‘Is that what happened to you?’ She still sounded cynical.

‘I suppose it did. When you’re faced with the very real possibility of your own death, you begin to think seriously about what is important.’

Was he actually implying, Noelle wondered, that she was important? ‘So what happened?’ she asked, wanting to keep the conversation focused on facts. ‘You parachuted into the sea?’

‘Yes, although I don’t remember that at all. I hit the water hard and the next thing I knew I was lying on a beach on a tiny deserted island, somewhere, ironically, near Alhaja.’ He frowned, his gaze sliding into remembrance. ‘My father owns—owned, I should say—all the land in that part of the Mediterranean, and boats steer clear of it. I was lucky to be found at all.’

‘And then?’

‘Then some poor fishermen took me to the coast of Tunisia, where I battled a fever—from this, I think—’ he pointed to the scar on his face ‘—for several weeks before I finally came to and realised what had happened.’

‘And then you came and found me.’

‘Yes.’

Noelle stared down at her plate. Somehow, without even realising it, she’d eaten all the bacon and eggs. And she was still hungry. Ammar pushed the toast rack towards her. ‘Here.’

Feeling a bit self-conscious, she took a piece of toast and began to butter it. ‘And what will you do now? You worked for your father before—’

‘Now I will work for myself.’ He sounded so flat, so final, and yet strangely triumphant, too.

‘As CEO of Tannous Enterprises?’

‘Yes.’

‘Will it be much different, being the boss?’ she asked hesitantly, and Ammar leaned closer to her, his eyes blazing.

‘It will be completely different.’

Noelle felt a flare of curiosity but didn’t ask any more questions. She shouldn’t have asked any questions at all; it suggested an intimacy, a desire for intimacy that she had no intention of feeling.

Or revealing … because she knew then with a rush of regret that she did feel it. She still felt something for Ammar, even if it was only an ember lost in the ashes of their former relationship.

How would she get through the next three days without it fanning into flame? For she knew she was weak and even wanting when it came to him. Already she had started to soften. She rose from the table so quickly she upset her half-drunk cup of coffee. Ammar righted it. Noelle felt her heart beating hard.

‘I’m tired. I think I’ll go back to my room.’

‘Very well.’ He rose also, gazing at her calmly.

Noelle stared at him, swallowed the impulse to say something stupid. Something she was afraid she might mean. She’d enjoyed sitting here in the sun talking to him far too much. She’d liked feeling it was possible, or even normal, to be relaxed and open with him.

Swallowing hard, she nodded a jerky farewell and left the room.

Ammar watched Noelle hurry from the kitchen with a pang of frustrated regret. For a few moments there they’d had a normal conversation, and it had felt so easy. Amazingly, wonderfully easy, for he didn’t like speaking of the crash or his father or any of his past. His life. Yet how could he win Noelle back if he didn’t share any of that? Even he knew enough about love and relationships to understand it couldn’t happen in a vacuum of ignorance. Yet sometimes, he acknowledged darkly, ignorance was, if not bliss, then certainly better.

Sighing impatiently, Ammar pushed away from the table. The day stretched emptily in front of him, for he had no doubt Noelle was going to hide in her room for as long as she could. He never should have suggested she stay only through the weekend; he needed a lot longer than three days to convince her to become his wife again. He needed a miracle.

Pushing aside such dark thoughts, he took his laptop and went to his study to work. He closed his eyes briefly at the sight of the endless emails that had landed in his inbox overnight. Everyone wanted to know which way he would turn. If he would follow his father’s lead—or his brother’s.

In the weeks after the crash, Khalis had taken over Tannous Enterprises, even though their father had disinherited him fifteen years ago, when Khalis had realised the extent of Balkri Tannous’s corruption and immorality and walked away. He’d started his own IT firm, made a life for himself in America while Ammar had stayed. Became his father’s right-hand man and flunky and carried out all his odious orders. Sold his soul.