Page 229 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

“Yes.” She smiled and folded her hands. “Hind and Sheikh Rashid are eager to welcome you.”

His answer was cut off by the returning flight attendant, who complimented Val’s dress, helped her fasten her seatbelt and put their seats back into the upright position. Then they were making a slow, leisurely descent into a blazing sunset, with Val leaning over him and smelling sweetly of a floral scent.

“Do you see how the sun shimmers on the water, just like that?” Her voice was hushed, almost reverent, as if the landscape demanded it. “It looks like acres of gold, shining through the surface of the sea. A philosopher explored here in the eighteenth century and described the famous sunsets, and that’s how the country got its name. And there—” she indicated a string of irregularly shaped round islands “—that’s Lulu Island, on account of it looking like a woman’s pearl necklace. The mainland is that big one, right in the center. The old pearling port is there, and see that dome? That’s the Gold Palace, and the government buildings, and—”

“Hey,” Desmond said quietly. His heart was thrumming in his chest and his eyes were fixed on the soft berry-brown of her mouth. “I did the research.”

“Oh.” He watched her throat constrict as she swallowed.She’s nervous.He felt a surge of protectiveness. “I’m sorry. I just—”

“It’s not a complaint.” He was close enough to kiss her, if he wanted to. And he wanted to, so badly.

The thought was disconcerting, as well as felt so natural.

Bahr Al-Dahab looked even more extraordinary from the ground. The series of islands ranged from a twenty-minute to a two-hour drive from tip to tip and formed a semicircle that hugged the coast of Oman, which loomed purple gray in the distance, jagged mountains meeting desert, meeting crystal-blue water.

The airport was in the middle of one of the islands, and a troop of snow-white Land Rovers was there to meet them when they arrived.

Val glided out across the tarmac, smiling broadly and calling greetings; obviously, the drivers were well-known to her. It was fascinating to see her with this new confidence in her role as a trusted member of Sheikh Rashid’s household.

The motorcade drove sedately up a long corniche with palm trees and carefully tended Gulf rose bushes on either side. They passed through downtown, with its skyscrapers in reflective blue-gray glass that seemed to kiss the sky; drove over the bumpy cobblestones that lined the streets of the old souk, where vendors peered at the cars’ dark tinted windows, smiling and gesturing to their shops; snaked around the Culture Village which was dedicated to museums and sculpture and past the shining cream and marble domes of the city’s first mosque.

The line of Land Rovers eventually left the city and made their way up a quiet street to a white villa in a contemporary style reminiscent of Palm Beach, perhaps. As they pulled into the reddish-brown flagstone driveway, the doors flew open and Hind stood there in a pink linen abaya, grinning broadly.

“Surprise!” she cried.

Val rushed to greet her, while Desmond looked past them into the villa. It was tastefully simple, with a pearl-white tiled floor and walls, and comfortable furnishings.

“Baba said you’ll stay here while you’re in town. Let me give you a tour,” Hind said, setting off in a cloud of vanilla, jasmine, amber and oud. “Then you’ll come to our place for dinner, and the driver will bring you both back tonight.”

“This villa is for us?” Desmond murmured.

“Yes.”

“And we’rebothcoming back tonight?”

“Not now,”Val said through her teeth. “We’remarried, remember?”

They followed Hind into the villa.

There was a bright, contemporarymajlis; three bedrooms, including an impressive master; a large, modern open kitchen with a dining room with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sea. Val explained quietly that this was one of the many real estate investments Sheik Rashid owned in the country. This was one of the nicer, more modern neighborhoods, a place often chosen by young expat couples.

“I have an apartment on the sheikh’s estate,” Val added softly, falling a little behind Hind. “But with you in town…”

“Got it.”

After the tour they freshened up while Hind waited impatiently downstairs, chattering into her mobile. The three of them then went to Sheikh Rashid’s sprawling estate for a barbecue dinner, eaten outside in the garden, reclining on lush, embroidered cushions.

“Is this a good sign?” he asked Val under the cover of a troupe of traditional drummers, which were the evening’s entertainment.

“What doyouthink?” she said a little acidly. She was a little preoccupied, he found. She smiled about a fraction of a second too late when something was said to her and looked at her phone more often than was strictly polite. She frowned down at her phone and he couldn’t help mentioning it.

“Am I really that boring of a companion?” he asked dryly.

She started violently. “I—I’m sorry. This is inexcusable. I contacted Malik, through his family—texted his parents, at the last number I have for them. I wanted to see if maybe—”

Ah. Malik. The feckless husband.

He felt a flash of discomfort, one that took quite a bit of the enjoyment from the evening. In a quiet moment, he took out his mobile and sent a couple of text messages of his own.

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