‘Let’s call it an intervention. I’ve also arranged to have his house and offices swept for electronics. Hard drives, devices—everything. By this afternoon, there will be no trace ofanyphotographs, either here or with your Australian friend.’
Shane. ‘He’s no friend of mine. I wouldn’t pee on him if he was on fire.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘But, did you arrange to have him kidnapped or something?’ Whatever the fuck! I don’t like Essam—scratch that—what I have for him is more than contempt, but to, to...
‘Such a vivid imagination. The man’s an addict. In my experience, they make little sense.’
‘A coke head?’ I thought I saw a bit of booger sugar on his face the day of his drive by.
‘I’m afraid it’s gone a little further than that.’
‘But when he gets out—’
‘He’s gone to a clinic in Arizona, one that looks like a spa, I might add, not Alcatraz. And when he comes home, let’s just hope he’s a little more reasonable. Failing that, there’s always special projects,’ he adds in a meaningful tone.
‘Such as?’
Kai seems to consider the option for a moment before answering. ‘I’d probably send him so far away he wouldn’t be able to cause any kind of trouble.’
‘I’ve missed you so much.’ I tilt my head up, rewarded by a small kiss.
‘And I you.’ His hands on my shoulders restrain me from deepening the kiss. Morning breath, maybe? ‘You should shower. We need to get back to your parents.’
‘Christ, the olds!’ How could I forget them? ‘What are we going to look like, rolling in in yesterday’s creased clothes!’
‘Well, we are adults. And married, so perhaps those shouldn’t be your primary concerns,’ he says in a voice that sounds oh so reasonable.
‘Oh. Yeah.’ I frown, my gaze quick to move back to him. ‘I told you they make me regress to a stroppy teen.’
‘You did,’ he replies wryly.
‘Maybe I’ll just let you answer all their nosey bloody questions.’ One brow rises like a question mark. ‘You wouldn’t!’ I scoff.
‘One look at us, and I’m sure we wouldn’t need any words.’
‘Because I look rode hard and put away wet?’
‘Sounds like your perfect evening.’ He stretches back against the pillows, bringing me with him. ‘But for now, clothes.’
He points to a large gilt-inlaid chest at the far side of the room, filled with bags from a local sports shop.
‘Are we going to the gym? Because I really don’t think I’ll be up for that visit you talked about.’ The one where he promised to show me how to use the sit-up bench for other things.
‘No,’ he says, pulling me further into his chest. ‘I’ve missed you, strange girl.’
‘Thanks.’ I think, though not so much in that tone.
‘We’re going home looking like we’vebeento the gym. Or personal trainer. Or a run, whatever you think best protects your modesty.’
And after a few more cuddles, and a shower, and a quick fumble in the shower, and a quick pashing session, we head home.
