‘Yeah?’ I ask, doubtfully. ‘Your mum said he was deeply religious.’
‘He plays his part well.’
Engaging Kai in conversation right now is like trying to milk bricks, and his features, much like his responses, give nothing away.
‘And his wife has just had a baby?’
‘I expect she’ll be the first of many.’
‘Do they want a big family?’
‘I meant the first of many wives, Kate.’ His tone is as dry as sticks. Despite his hand on my back, propelling me along, I grind to a stop.
‘I thought you could only have four wives?’ Four wives as inonly—just mad!
‘Marriage may be a dying institution in much of the world but here, for some men, quadruple the number still isn’t enough.’
‘You can bend the rules?’ I ask, incredulous. ‘How?’
Kai’s hand slides from my back, fingers raking through his hair. ‘There are always ways. Some divorce, take temporary wives, and then there’s good old fashioned adultery.’ His mouth curls in a gesture of irony. ‘For those willing to risk their eternal soul.’
‘Temp—no. I don’t think I want to know.’
‘Why anyone would want to be tied to another by marriage, I’ll never understand.’ His tone is blithe, but his words no less telling. A can of worms I’m not interested in opening as his hand finds mine. We begin to walk again.
‘Sofia sounds like a popular girl.’
Crap. Sometimes I wonder if my mouth is at all connected to my brain. He’ll definitely think I was listening in now.
His expression is disconcerted, his hand loosening from mine as he turns as though to speak.
‘My goodness!’ With a beaming smile, Mishael joins us quite suddenly again, preventing his response. ‘I’m afraid it’s that time, darling.’ She touches Kai’s arm before turning toward the stage. ‘He’ll be back in a jiffy. We really must chat more.’
As she turns away, Kai stares down at me, eyes now grave. ‘You and I need to talk. Can we continue this after?’
‘I’ll be here.’
Lights from the garden set him in silhouette, darkening his face as his fingers touch my cheek.
‘Promise?’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Not yet, anyway.
On a small stage set against a backdrop of palms, Kai approaches the podium and the noise of the crowd dies away.
‘Ladies and gentlemen.As’salaam Alaikum. Welcome to the fifth annualAl BaytCharitable Trust Evening.’
There follows a small ripple of applause, people drifting nearer to the stage. Small groups gather around me, one figure paused almost at my elbow. A woman. Viewed from the corner of my eye, she looks almost familiar. Chestnut hair falls sheet-like almost to her waist, and she’s tall; legs up to my chest, at least. She seems to have that effortlessly stylish look of someone famous, but I suppose it would be effortless if you paid a stylist to pick your clothes. Dark painted nails match her tiny rock-chic black dress and ankle-boots.
My heart suddenly sinks as I realise where I recognise her from. She was with Kai at brunch, his supermodel date.
‘Have we met?’ Her question is vague, her eyes only briefly lighting on me as she twists a lock of hair around her thumb.
‘Nope. Don’t think so.’ Quick, my answer is almost a bark.
Shrugging, she flicks the dark sheet of hair over her shoulder beforereallylooking at me. Her eyes make a slow progression from my feet to my face, her expression part amusement, part sneer.
‘You’re the girl,’ she drawls. ‘Sofia.’ She holds out her hand, almost in a position to be kissed. ‘Kais and I...’ She wriggles the fingers of her other hand in the air, a gesture that could mean anything or nothing. But I know exactly what she means. And Kais again, not Kai, with the slight inflection of an accent. Odd that I note these differences, accent and diction, as the actual context screams in the back of my head.
