Page 20 of Deadly Betrayal
Her back to Khalid, Azita’s hand once againreturned to her empty abdomen. She was already twenty-eight, old byAfghan standards, with no husband, and if her plan to save Lailawas successful, no good man would want anything to do with her.Assuming Tariq or Khalid didn’t find her and kill her first, heronly options would be life on the street or in a shelter if shewere lucky, or life with a bad man who would use her as a whore anda slave. If it came to that, she’d pray to be barren so herchildren could avoid her fate.
Khalid startled her when he ran a thumb underher eye, wicking up the wetness on her cheek. “What’s wrong?” heasked.
“I’m just worried about Laila,” shestammered, desperate to hide the real reason for her sadness.
“This isn’t just about her. You haven’t beeneating and you’re fidgety.” He traced his thumb under her eyeagain. “You aren’t sleeping well. And this started well before thebusiness with Laila.”
She brushed his hand away, returning to thecooking. “It’s been an eventful couple of years, my husband’sbrother.” She immediately regretted the bite in her words.
He gripped her shoulder and spun her aroundto face him. “Don’t call me that. I hate it.”
“It’s how I’m supposed to address you.”
His hand cut violently in front of him. “It’sa stupid tradition.” His frown transformed into a slow smile.“Besides, I like hearing you say my name. Say it now.”
Why was he bringing this up again? Hisfamiliarity unsettled her, especially since she was still so angry.A knot of nerves balled in her stomach as she forced his name pasther lips. “Khalid.” But when he tried to push the headscarf off herhair, she shrank from his touch.
His eyes widened. “Are you afraid of me?” Hedropped his hand to his waist and turned his back to her. “Have Iever harmed you?”
The gruffness of his voice, the hurt buriedbeneath the words, surprised her. She shook her head, then realizedhe couldn’t see her. “No.”
He ran a hand over his neck and faced her.“Have I ever not let you do something you wanted to do?”
Looking away, she shook her head.
“Azita,” he growled. “Answer me.”
“No.”
“Have I taken my wives away from theirfamilies? Forbidden my children to see their grandparents, aunts,uncles, and cousins?”
What he said was true, yet it wasn’t thecomplete truth. She raised her chin. “You never let me visit mybrother.”
His face darkened and he leaned toward her.“And you knowexactlywhy.” The menace in his tonefrightened her. She took a step back until her bottom hit thecounter. He took advantage of her trapped position and movedcloser. His finger curled under the edge of her headscarf, hookinga few strands of her hair. Staring into her eyes, he twirled themaround his finger.
Azita’s heart pounded so frantically in herchest, she thought she might be on the verge of a heart attack.Since Faroukh’s death, Khalid had never acted inappropriatelytoward her, so why was he doing so now?
Because we are essentially alone in thehouse. Samira would never dare try to stop Khalid from doinganything.
“I… I…” Not knowing what to say, Azitapressed her lips together and steeled her spine. If he tried tokiss her, or worse, she’d endure. In only a few hours, she’d befree of this house and this man.
Khalid smiled into the wide eyes of the womanhe wanted more than any other. “Then again, that no-good brother ofyoursdidbring you to this family, and for that reasonalone, I hope he is spared from the fires of hell.”
When he released Azita’s hair and steppedaway, her chest rose as she sucked in an audible breath. Pleasurewarmed his veins at the evidence that she was as drawn to him as hewas to her. “Have you nothing to say?” he asked, amused by hersilence. Of all his women, she was by far the most fiery.
She cleared her throat and turned back to thestove, flipping over thebolanishe was preparing. “I thankyou for your generosity.”
“That’s right. I’m every bit as generous andprogressive as my brother was. Are you not happy with the way I’mtaking care of you?” He’d make her admit this at least. “Most men Iknow don’t let their wives work; they keep them at home where theyare safe.”
Azita’s lips twisted. “I don’t think tradingyour eleven-year old niece to a warlord for Allah-knows-what isvery progressive. It’s an illegal practice for a reason. What wouldmy husband think if he were alive to see this? You’ve brought shameto this family.”
“Shame?” His fists clenched as he forcedhimself to contain his reaction to her words. “The one whodishonored this family was your filthy, immoral dog of a brother.He is lucky I let him live. What I did is a time-honored tradition,only recently outlawed to appease the Western governments sothey’ll continue forking over aid and shoring up our corruptpresident.”
Face drawn, eyes sadder than he’d ever seenthem, Azita wrapped her arms around her waist. She raised her gazeto his. “Why, Khalid? Why would you use her like that? She’s aninnocent child.” A lone tear trailed down her cheek, breaking hisheart. “You’re not the man I thought you were.”
Sighing, he leaned against the counter. Atlast, she was opening the door to a real conversation. The year ofmourning Faroukh had imposed on them was almost at an end. Soonhe’d be able to take Azita as his wife. But he wasn’t a barbarian.He wanted her to want him too. “What kind is that?” he asked,gentling his tone.
“You’re intelligent, progressive, from awealthy family. You have a good position in the government. Youhave Afghanistan at your feet. I don’t understand why you need tohave dealings with this thug or why you need to ruin the life ofyour brother’s daughter. What can he possibly give you that youdon’t already have?”
