Page 51 of The Devil Wears Orange
“Did anything unusual happen?” There’s a slight twitch of his cheek.
Again, I worry he’s alluding to my meeting with Jack. No. I can’t worry and allow paranoia to get a solid footing. Yet, my eyes drift to that party boat, again.
“Everything about Dubai is unusual, from the skyscrapers to the man-made islands.”
His face relaxes, and he seems to accept my answer. “Promise me you will never disappear again.”
“Mmm,” I mumble, acknowledging his concerns, but stop short of actually agreeing to his terms.
He stares at me, his eyebrows knotted. “Did you hurt yourself?” he says and points to my face.
I wrinkle my nose and inspect my face in a small, handheld mirror I pull from my purse. When I checked my face immediately following the incident, there was no bruising. Now, a purple welt marks the bridge of my nose.
“I bashed my face into a store door,” I say hesitantly, then in a bright tone continue, “There was an incredible sale at some touristy trap I found myself at.”
“Would you like a doctor to look at it?”
I wave my hand in the air. “Oh no, I’m fine.”
He continues to stare. The look on his face is as unreadable as it was that night I played poker against him – a look I determinethat is somewhere between romantic wedding proposal and murder on this Pick-Your-Own-Adventure I’ve landed myself on. Fifteen minutes swim, and I’ll reach that party boat.
“What’s your poison?” Rashid says in a severe tone.
I turn to his voice, frozen and terrified, until I realize he’s gesturing to a collection of alcohol in a bin.
“What would you like to drink? Daiquiri? Mojito? Cosmo?” he asks again. “I had my staff prepare several drinks, all tucked away here.”
Sweat trickles down my bare arms; my hands twitch with fear. “Your staff? You mean that man with Omar?” I say, pointing to the pier too far away to view.
With hesitation in his voice, he says, “Yes.”
“I’ve never seen him before.”
“I have many people who work for my family. I use him for special occasions.”
There’s an emphasis on the word “special” or perhaps it’s my mind playing tricks on me. “No, thank you.” I force a smile, but the fakery of it remains frozen on my face for too long.Where’s Jack?I had asked him to be around, but I can’t be sure he’s anywhere in the vicinity. “Walking in the heat earlier is making me feel queasy now. The booze might send me overboard.”
Rashid tilts his head and eyes me as though contemplating something. “Are you feeling light-headed? Nauseous? Your breathing appears normal. I don’t think you’re suffering from heatstroke.”
That’s a good idea, I think and nod like he’s on to something. “Heatstroke... I’ve had it a few times before, and I’d rather not risk it. We should head back to the hotel.”
“Of course, but before we return, there’s something I believe will make you feel better. May I have your phone?”
I envision him flinging it in the water. I make a show of rifling through my purse and feel my dress though it has no pockets. “It must have slipped out.”
“In the car? I’ll have Omar retrieve it.” Rashid pulls out his phone. “Omar, please search the car for Ms. Milton’s phone. I’ll place you on hold while I dial.”
Rashid punches a second number, and suddenly my phone beeps from within my purse.
“What was that?” says Rashid, voice tinged with suspicion.
“What was what?”
Eyes on me, Rashid gets Omar back on the line to cancel the search. His face appears to soften as he holds out his hand, palms up. “You won’t regret it.”
I gulp. I regret so much – following the thieves to their car in Paris, sneaking a USB with duplicates of Rashid’s computer files to Jack, and boarding this damn boat. With no choice, I dig into my purse to retrieve the phone when an idea hits me.
“Don’t move,” I tell Rashid. “The background and lighting are simply perfect.” I pose for a selfie, lips puckered, Rashid smiles in the background. Then, I email it to my parents and Harriet and even Anne, fingers flying to type out the message “On a yacht in Dubai with Prince Rashid.” My parents had left a message earlier, begging me to come home, again, but this photo is intended to calm their nerves. Besides, if I do disappear, here’s the proof that Rashid was the last person to see me alive. Trembling, I place my phone in his hand.
