Zayn’s pulse thudded in his neck.“Was he rude to you?”
“No!”she gasped, spinning to face him.“Zayn, don’t do anything—”
“If he so much as looked at you the wrong way, I swear—”
“Zayn,” she snapped, eyes wide.“Jiron was—Sheik Alons was a gentleman.”
She’d corrected herself.
That was all he needed.
He would kill him.
But not yet.
He watched her carefully.She was retreating, and he knew the signs.She was protecting someone.Or protectinghimfrom what she didn’t want him to know.
“You were there while I was stuck on that cursed publicity tour, right?”he asked, and just like that, his thoughts slammed into Azlyn again.
Azlyn in that red dress.Azlyn glowing beneath the lights.Azlyn, thinner than she should be.Azlyn…distant.
“Zayn, you’re not even listening,” Nahla said flatly.
He blinked and looked up.“What did you say?”
She stood and crossed to the table, picking up an apple from the bowl.Then, oddly, she set it down again with a sigh.Apples were her favorite.Imported.Expensive.He’d dropped tariffs on the fruit just for her.
So why reject it now?
“I just need a break,” she said.“I’ve been working too much for Dad lately.I’m thinking of going to Paris.Visiting a friend.”
Zayn stiffened.Nahla didn’tdobreaks.She didn’t take vacations.She worked nonstop, much like he did.
And now she wanted to disappear?
“Who’s the friend?”he asked, voice sharp.
Nahla smiled gently over her shoulder at him, and Zayn had to resist the urge to snap.Her expression was patronizing and—!He stopped himself, realizinghewas the one being patronizing.That hadn’t been his intention, but…hell.He was a sexist bastard, and he knew it.Azlyn had known it.Apparently, Nahla did too.
“Jenny is a friend from university.You met her when you came to visit me while I was studying.”
Yes, he remembered Jennifer.Pretty, with long dark hair and a nice smile.She’d been studying something…similar to Nahla, though the details escaped him now.Still, her explanation felt off.Not wrong exactly—just…false.
“What is Jenny doing now?”
“She works at an art gallery in Paris.A private one.It’s just down the street from the Musée d’Orsay, so it’s in a very good part of the city.”
Zayn studied her carefully.Something in her words didn’t ring true.He just couldn’t figure out what.
“Why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
She laughed, a light sound that, for a moment, eased the tension in his chest.
“Why won’tyoutellmewhat’s been botheringyoufor the past several months?”she asked, stepping closer with her hands looped behind her back.“I thought you were getting better.Happier.”She tilted her head, peering up at him.“But something happened recently.What was it?”
Zayn stiffened.She was too observant.Come to think of it, so were his cousins.
“Nothing.Just a deal I lost.”
