Chapter Twelve

Rania had seen her husband angry but not like this. She knew he’d never hurt her physically, but he could tell her their marriage was over, effective immediately, that she wasn’t worth the stress she put him through. Her stomach fell to her knees, which began to shake uncontrollably.

“I wish to speak with my wife in private.”

Demetri was fighting for control, and the way he said wife sounded as though it wasn’t going to be her title for much longer. Rania tried to swallow the lump in her throat but her mouth was dry.

Mahmoud stepped in front of her, between her and Demetri, knocking her husband’s hand from her arm. “I won’t let you hurt her.”

“I will never lift a hand to her. However, I don’t want an audience as she lies to me about where she’s been for the past four hours.”

“She was with me,” Mahmoud said.

That was so not helpful. Rania quickly stepped around Mahmoud and put herself between her husband and her friend. Demetri would never hit her, but she was sure he wouldn’t be so restrained with the other man.

“It’s not what you think,” she said.

“I seem to recall that was what you said the last time I caught you in his arms.” Demetri didn’t look at her; he kept his eyes on Mahmoud.

“She was trying to convince me to help sneak her into Egypt,” Mahmoud said. Rania glared at him but her death stare bounced off his smiling face. Was he actually enjoying the confrontation or just trying to annoy Demetri further?

“And you agreed?”

“No, I did not. It’s not safe for her there. I convinced her to come back to the hotel and let me handle the matter.”

“It’s none of your concern. I am her husband,” Demetri said.

“Oh for God’s sake, stop playing ‘I’ve got the bigger penis,’ you two. As far as I can see, neither of you have done anything to get my uncle free. If I can get to Israel, then I can slip through the smuggling tunnels into Egypt. My mother’s family will help me until I can get to Cairo. From there with Mahmoud’s contacts, I can arrange an assault on the prison and extraction of Uncle Fouad. We will probably have to lie low for a few weeks. Then we can either sneak out the way I got in or make our way to Libya and cross the border there.”

“You’ll be detained before you even get to the Sinai,” Mahmoud said. “You’re watched everywhere.”

Rania crossed her arms. She wasn’t a child. Egypt was her home, her people. She could blend in there, disappear without a trace. “I—”

“You will go straight back to Crete and wait with my mother. I will travel to Egypt tomorrow,” Demetri said.

“And do what?” Mahmoud asked. “Your name is linked to Rania’s, and you won’t even get out of the airport before you’re questioned by the authorities.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Demetri took another step toward Mahmoud. “Rania is my wife and therefore her uncle is my concern.”

Mahmoud stepped forward as well until Rania was like sandwich meat between the two large men.

“Boys!” Natasha’s sharp voice cut through the testosterone-filled tension. “If we work together, we’ll have a greater chance at success. I have the contacts in Israel. Mahmoud has the contacts in Egypt, and Demetri has the business credentials to procure the necessary commercial channels that will be required for a successful operation.” Both men stared at Natasha. “I have personally led a dozen successful extraction missions. What’s your tally?”

“None,” they both said at once.

“As I thought. So I’m in command. You both do as I say or I will shoot you myself and leave you for dead. Any questions?”

“Wait. Demetri can’t go to Egypt. As Mahmoud said, they’ll question him as soon as he sets foot on the soil and then I’ll lose both my uncle and my husband. The government knows we’re married. They’ll assume he’s in the country to try and get Uncle Fouad released.” Her heart felt as if it had been filled with lead and then reinserted into her chest. She couldn’t let Demetri go. What if something happened to him? It was one thing to live without him because he’d be better off with another, more stable woman. Another to know he’d been imprisoned or worse killed because she’d goaded him into action.

“I can look after myself, Rania,” Demetri said. “Besides, I have two resorts in Egypt. It’s only natural I would check on them personally, as I do all my properties. It will be a legitimate business trip.”

“That is good,” Natasha said. “While you’re making a big deal about your business trip, Mahmoud and I will enter separately and rendezvous at a prearranged location.”

“No, I don’t want Demetri involved,” Rania said.

Natasha shot Demetri a look that he seemed to understand. He strode over to his mother and kissed her on the cheek. “Ma, why don’t you go back to bed? We’ll catch up in the morning. Rania, which is your room? We need to talk in private.”

Demetri grabbed her hand and she pointed to the second door in the hall. They weren’t even in the room before she heard Mahmoud and Natasha begin to argue in Arabic about the best way to sneak into Egypt. Leave it to the professionals; she had to convince Demetri not to go.

“You broke your promise to me. I’ve never been so terrified as when the person I hired to keep you safe called and said you’d deliberately disappeared.” Demetri stood with his arms across his chest, his back against the door.

“I’m sorry, azizy. I was desperate.”

Demetri stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, his hands rubbing up and down her back. She was home again in his arms, but she couldn’t get distracted now. She had to convince him not to go with Natasha and Mahmoud to Egypt.

“Rania, when you’re desperate you should come to me, not run off in some foreign country and meet up with an old boyfriend. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

She leaned back in his arms so she could search his face. The jealousy she’d experienced when she’d met his old flame Athena was clearly displayed. Coupled with that, there were still lines of worry etched in his forehead and his hair was disheveled from running his fingers through it in obvious agitation.

“I’m sorry, Demetri. I know you’re doing your best, but it’s not working. Mahmoud can make things happen. Stay with me. We can wait here or at the house in Crete, or even on Gavdos. I trust Mahmoud to bring my uncle out, especially with Natasha’s help. That woman is scary.”

“You heard Natasha—my wealth, my business connections, will be essential, and I have a legitimate reason to be in Egypt. The government won’t dare hold me or they’ll risk international reprisals.”

“They’ve imprisoned one of their wealthiest citizens for almost a year. They don’t care about their reputation. It’s too dangerous, Demetri. Leave it to the professionals. Come home with me.”

“Careful, agape mou. I’m beginning to believe you care for me. Or are you just worried about losing your lover?”

She punched him on the chest, but he caught her hand and kissed her inner wrist, his tongue making swirling patterns on her pulse point.

“I do care for you, azizy. If something were to happen to you… I’d never forgive myself.”

“Nothing will happen. You’ll see. I’ll be back in your arms in no time. Then we’ll take a long cruise around the Greek islands in my yacht. You, me, and the blue sea.”

He lowered his head and kissed away any further protests. This time, though, their passion was tinged with fear. Rania poured all her pent-up emotions into every kiss, every touch. As Demetri entered her, their gazes locked, neither looking away until their bodies were spent. Rania wrapped her arms around his back, desperate to hold onto him, keep him with her.

When she woke the next morning, his phone sat beside a note instructing her to return to Crete on the next flight out. He asked his mother to go back to Gavdos.

For Maria’s sake, Rania held back her tears. Her husband was gone. Would she ever see him again? Would she ever be able to tell him she loved him? Would she get the chance to try and make him love her?

…

Rania stirred another cube of sugar in her coffee and stared out to sea. Dusk was closing in. Soon it would be dark, and she’d have to face another night alone. Five days had passed since Demetri left. Five days of anguish. Five days of hell. She wasn’t sure how many more she could take.

With no way to contact her husband, and afraid if she even tried she’d get him killed, she’d spent every waking hour staring at the sea, willing a boat to appear and deposit him safely on the shore. The soothing sounds of the water feature she’d had installed on the deck seemed only to echo her loss.

No boat came. Or plane. Or car. Was he lying bleeding out on the sand somewhere? His last thoughts wishing he’d just handed her over to the Egyptian agents who’d boarded his boat? She shivered and pulled the sweater tighter around her shoulders.

She’d downloaded from the Cloud all the surveillance photos she’d taken of Demetri when she’d trailed him for the two weeks prior to stowing away on his yacht. They’d played in a slideshow of regret across her laptop screen. She hadn’t activated it in a while, so the screen was blank, like her life.

She plopped another cube of sugar in her cup and stirred. The coffee was cold now so it barely dissolved.

“I’m surprised the spoon doesn’t stand on its own with the amount of sugar you’ve put in.” Demetri’s deep voice behind her was like a welcoming rain after a severe drought. His words trickled over her skin, bringing relief to her parched soul.

She leapt from her chair, knocking over the sugar filled coffee in the process. Her eyes scanned his form as he leaned against the doorframe. There was a nasty cut across his left cheek, and he held his left arm across his body. He was injured, his clothes were filthy, his jeans torn across the thigh and his shirt ripped on the sleeve.

“Demetri.” Her voice failed her. All she could do was stare.

“I can’t tell if you’re happy to see me or sad you haven’t inherited my vast fortune.”

“How can you even think I’d rather have your money than you?” Two and a half months of marriage and he thought she was a gold-digger? Had he lost his mind as well?

“I have no idea where I stand with you, Rania.”

She tapped her chest. “Right here in my heart. I love you, Demetri. I didn’t realize how much until I thought I might lose you this week.”

He straightened at her words but no declaration of love escaped his lips. She took another step closer. The warmth of his body melted some of the fear that had gripped her soul during the past five days. The aroma of man, sweat, and dirt was the best she’d ever smelled.

“I’m sorry. I failed. We didn’t rescue your uncle. We were too late.” He paused for a moment. “He’s dead.”

Pain sliced through her and she stumbled. She grabbed the back of the chair for support.

“I know you’d rather he was standing here instead of me.” Demetri’s voice was devoid of emotion, no hint of his own feelings. If he’d just tell her he loved her, or at least cared a little.

“No, I…” She couldn’t choose between her uncle and her husband. She’d loved Uncle Fouad for decades, but it was a simple emotion compared to what she experienced when she was with Demetri. She didn’t even know tears were streaming down her face until he reached out, caught a drop on his finger and placed it on his own lips.

“If I could trade places—”

“Don’t say that.” She’d grieve for Uncle Fouad tomorrow. Today she was going to be thankful for her husband’s safe return. She reached up and cupped his uninjured cheek. The rough stubble felt wonderful under her palm. He was alive; she could ask for nothing more, except maybe his love. “Come. Let’s get you cleaned up. You can tell me about it tomorrow.”

Taking his hand she led him down the hallway to their bedroom. He leaned against the counter as she ran the bath, pouring in some soothing salts and healing essential oils. When she turned back to him, he was still completely dressed.

“The need to see you again was what kept me going,” he said as they both stared at the other. She drank in the sight of him. He was home. Alive. Everything else would work itself out. It had to.

“You’ve seen me now. Is it enough?” She started to unbutton his shirt, careful not to knock the arm he still held across his stomach.

“Not until I touch you.” He lowered his head and kissed her. It was the most exquisite kiss Rania could ever remember.

“How badly are you hurt? Have you seen a doctor?” she asked when he at last released her lips.

“It’s just a few scratches, and I dislocated my shoulder. Natasha popped it back into place. It’s still a little sore. And no, I haven’t been to a doctor. All I need is you, and to sleep for a couple of days.”

She’d make her own diagnosis when she saw him. Her Bedouin grandmother had taught her a lot about healing plants, and she kept a regular supply of essential oils. If it were anything more than superficial wounds, she’d have to convince him to see a real doctor. They’d figure something out to explain why he was so busted up.

She undid the rest of the buttons and removed his shirt from his uninjured arm first then slid it around and off his bad side. His shoulder was hideously bruised but the skin wasn’t broken and the shoulder was in line with the other one. There were several minor cuts on his chest and his ribs were bruised as well. She ran her fingers gently over them but none appeared broken and he didn’t flinch. In the mirror she could see nasty gravel rash on his back, as if he’d been dragged along the road. Rania shuddered. She’d done this to him with her futile quest to free her uncle.

“If you’re queasy, I can bathe myself.”

“I’m not feeling queasy. I’m feeling guilty.”

He put his hands over hers on his belt buckle, stilling them. “I made my own decision to go. You didn’t force me. You’re not responsible.”

“If I hadn’t badgered you, if I hadn’t gone behind your back and involved Mahmoud. I should have waited for you to do things your way.”

A tear dropped onto their conjoined hands.

“Then I guess this isn’t the time to tell you it was the most amazing experience of my life, outside of making love to you, of course. Not one I’d want to repeat, mind you, but not one I regret. Although I wish the outcome had been different.”

“Demetri.” Her voice broke on his name, her throat so tight no other words would form.

“I’m fine. Just extremely tired.”

She nodded, unable to talk. Her heart was numb. She helped him remove the rest of his clothes and then he eased himself into the water. Carefully, she cleaned his wounds and after he dried off, she covered them in salve.

“Are you hungry? Can I get you something to eat?”

“No, I only want to go to bed.”

She flung back the sheets and piled the pillows against the headboard. Demetri climbed in and she gently tucked the blankets around him.

“Lay beside me. I need to know you’re here.”

She quickly stripped off her clothes and climbed in next to him, careful not to hit any of his injuries. Demetri’s deep, rhythmic breathing told her he’d already fallen asleep. She eased away and wept for her uncle.

…

Every bloody part of him ached. What didn’t ache burned. He tried to shift to his side, but the sharp stab of pain sent him back to his original position. He must have moaned or made some other noise because Rania sat up. The moonlight through the open curtains illuminated her concerned face, blotchy from crying.

Demetri’s heart fluttered. She’d said she loved him, and given her reaction to his return, he was pretty sure she did. So why hadn’t he said it back to her? The last five days had proved to him that life is uncertain; you had to seize the moment. But Mahmoud’s words still rattled in his brain. As Natasha had tended to both their wounds, Mahmoud had commented that Rania had certainly chosen the right man for the job. Thinking Mahmoud meant himself, Demetri had stiffened. Then the Egyptian implied that Rania hadn’t randomly chosen Demetri’s boat because it was headed in the right direction. Rather she’d done extensive research and decided Demetri had the money and connections to free her uncle. And she’d been right. His connections and wealth had been key in arranging her uncle’s extraction.

Marriage had been his choice, hadn’t it? But according to Mahmoud, Rania was a very skilled manipulator, getting people to do what she wanted, all the while believing it was their idea. Mahmoud himself could be executed for treason for what he’d done. Yet he hadn’t been able to deny Rania when she’d asked for his help.

Another tear fell from Rania’s eye but she quickly swiped it away. What would she say when she found out Demetri had lied to her and her uncle wasn’t dead? In fact, Fouad was recovering from malnutrition, dehydration, and a host of other ailments under the tender care of Demetri’s mother in the pink goat shack.

Would Rania understand it was for her uncle’s safety that he’d lied? If he told her the truth, she’d undoubtedly rush off to see Fouad for herself and put them all in jeopardy again. They’d been lucky to escape with their lives. Until the Egyptian government truly believed Fouad dead, they had to act like he was. Rania’s believable grief would help in the deception. Still, it hurt to see her so distressed.

Mahmoud and Natasha were making their way from Libya to Morocco. Despite a rocky start, they seemed to have clicked on more than a professional level. At least he didn’t have to worry about the Egyptian man hanging around Rania when that man’s hands were full of a trained mercenary.

“Are you okay? Can I get you anything?” Rania’s soft voice reminded him of what he did have. For now.

As long as he was still married… “Just you.”

“You’re injured.”

“Then you’d better be gentle with me.” He flung back the sheet so she could see his dick standing at attention, waiting for her.

“I’m pretty sure this is against medical advice,” she whispered but straddled his thighs nonetheless. She touched him carefully, almost reverentially, and when she guided him into her heat they both released a moan of contentment. This was where he was meant to be. How was he ever going to let her go?

“I think this is exactly what the doctor ordered. Besides, if I’m going to die, I want to go out on a wave of ecstasy being ridden by my woman.” A faint smile curved Rania’s lips as he quoted back her words. He closed his eyes as she began to move on him, reveling in every sensation. Too soon he spiraled out of control and went over the edge. His wife was barely breathing heavy.

Yet of all the times they’d made love, all the ways—frantic, tantric, playful, intense—this had been the most emotional. Or maybe it was his exhaustion and near-death experience that was sending burning arrows into his chest. Tell her, tell her you love her and can’t function without her. But how can I keep a butterfly happy if I trap her in a boring cage?

“Can you tell me what happened?” Rania lay curved against his somewhat good side. With her finger she traced lazy patterns over his chest. He sucked in a deep breath.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“I think not knowing will be worse.”

“We did everything we could, Rania. Natasha and Mahmoud bribed as many guards as could be bought and we set up a huge diversion when they were moving Fouad to another prison. Then, when the time was right, we attacked. Your uncle was very weak, he couldn’t walk so we took turns carrying him. We’d almost reached safety when the bullets started to fly.”

“Was Uncle Fouad shot?” Her finger stilled on his chest.

“No, Mahmoud was. We got Fouad into the transport. Then he had a heart attack in the vehicle. I tried my best to do CPR but he slipped away.”

“I know you did your best, azizy. I just wish I could have told him how much I loved him. How much I appreciated that he let me be me and never tried to force me into some preconceived notion of what an Arab woman should be like.”

Fouad hadn’t tried to clip her wings or keep her trapped. He’d helped her to fly and that’s why she loved him. If Demetri tried to keep her with him, would her love turn to resentment? Would he see her spirit die a little more each day? He couldn’t bear for that to happen.

He drew in a shuddering breath, his chest tight but not from his injuries. “I told him, agape mou. I told him how much you cared, that you risked your own safety for him. He knew.”

A couple of more tears escaped and wet his shoulder. She kissed away the dampness. After a moment she swallowed, although her voice was still raw when she asked, “What about Mahmoud. Is he okay?”

It’s just concern for a friend. “He’s fine. Natasha dug the bullet out. Last I saw them they were headed south.” Another lie. They were piling up. But he’d promised Mahmoud and Natasha that he’d keep their destination secret.

“And Uncle Fouad’s body?”

“We left it with your mother’s family. They promised to bury him near your aunt. Rania, it’s too dangerous for you or any of your family to go get him. You have to let it be now.”

“I will. Uncle Fouad is gone. I almost lost you. I won’t risk anyone else.” She resumed caressing his chest and he relaxed. They’d go on a second honeymoon, sailing around the Greek isles, visiting his resorts. Then in a few weeks, when Mahmoud and Natasha said it was safe, he’d take her to Gavdos to be reunited with her uncle, and she’d forgive his lies. Then she’d be so in love with him she’d agree to stay married to him, have his babies, and make wild, passionate love to him well into his eightieth year.

Yeah, right. And I’ll also be crowned the King of Greece. Or maybe, as I’m half Turkish, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire.