Page 220 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

“I could give you something of mine—”

“Oh, no. No. I’m perfectly all right.” The thought of wearing his clothes, of wrapping herself in what was sure to be his scent… “This is lovely. Thank you.”

“I’ll have something brought over for you.” He came to join her, easing himself down against the cushions of the low seat. He exhaled as if his body hurt, then bent over the table to uncover the dishes. He obviously had a discreet staff member—or three—who had set up the room and produced the food. Steam curled up from the plates and Val felt her stomach tighten with hunger. There was a small dish to her right with a steaming hot towel on it; she picked it up and wiped her hands.

“I hope you like lamb. And Ethiopian food,” Desmond said.

Val nodded. “Yes, I do.” She recognized it immediately. “Some of my colleagues are Ethiopian. And Eritrean,” she added as an afterthought.

“Yes, I’ve heard there are quite a few in Bahr Al-Dahab.” He lifted the woven lid of themesobwith a flourish, gesturing that she should take one of the springy flatbread pieces within. “Help yourself.”

“Thank you.” When herinjarawas safely on her plate, he offered her the bowl of stew. Her stomach growled audibly as she spooned some onto the flatbread. She waited until he’d served himself, then lifted the first bite to her lips.

It was delicious—fatty, tender lamb cooked in a spicy, flavorful stew seasoned with chili oil. She looked up to see Desmond regarding her with amusement.

“What?” she said, covering her mouth with her hand.

He laughed, and the sound added warmth to the room. “My father would have been impressed at your eating with your hands.”

“Are you Ethiopian?”

“I was born in Surrey. My father left Ethiopia in the eighties, during the hunger crisis.” He paused to tear off a bit of bread, deftly spooning stew in one quick motion.

“Your mother?”

“Oh, they got divorced early on, and she went home. She married again. I stayed with my father here.”

“Oh, I see.”

“He was the youngest of six brothers. They all worked, got themselves through school, combined resources, and started a business. All things aviation. Airplane parts. Maintenance. Consulting.” He gestured at himself. “Tesfay Aviation Solutions was what it was called. They really capitalized on the boom in affordable air travel. My father was a tagalong teenager for most of it, but he really came into his own when he convinced them to let him start a marketing and advertising leg of the business. He did well, for a really long time—he’s responsible for a lot of the advertising for smaller international airlines.Was,” he corrected himself.

Val nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“It was amazing,” he said quietly, looking up and meeting her eyes. “They built a fortune in one generation. That’s them, there,” he said, gesturing to a painting on the wall.

Val rose to her feet and crossed over to the painting, wanting a closer look. The men were all lean and handsome and had something of Desmond in their faces, in the sinewy build, in the beautiful skin. The traditional style of the portrait and the soft brushstrokes made it difficult to identify features too closely. She squinted, wishing she had her glasses, then stepped back, bumping directly into Desmond.

“Oh! Sorry!” She hadn’t even heard him come up behind her.

“Not an issue at all.” She could feel the warmth of his body radiating into her back.

“That’s Abuna, Abel, Selama, Thaddaeus, my father Abram, and Markos.”

“They’re very handsome.”

“Yeah, they would say that, too.”

“Are they still in London?”

“Some of them. A couple went to the US. Uncle Abel’s in Ethiopia at the moment.” She sensed hesitation from him and she turned to face him. “We’re not…terribly close,” he said. A shadow passed over his face. “There was a bit of a break, a few years ago.”

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We have time.” She didn’t know why she was pushing, especially because his face was growing darker and darker. She was convinced he would change the subject and the moment would be over.

“The flight he was on…it was an airline that he and my brothers developed with the firm from inception to the first flight. It was in response to increased budget tourism, and my father wrote an absolutely magnificent campaign. What he designed… I’ve never seen anything like that before. I was so proud of him—” Desmond’s voice became so frayed that Val felt a stab of physical pain herself. She inhaled to steady herself and found that the air was heavy with the sweetness of lemon candle wax, the spicy richness of chili oil and meat, and… Desmond.

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