Page 41 of At the Sheikh's Bidding
“Janey?” asked Leonora.
“Sorry, I got distracted. What was the question?”
They continued for another half-an-hour, after which time both Leonora, Rosana—on line from Oxford—and Janey met by themselves to go over the plan. They all agreed it was going well, despite the lack of findings. She finished the call and thought about how successful the social media conference had been with, or without, the diamond. It was all about hype and Leonora was great at managing the buzz the college wanted to see around its anniversary. The discovery of the actual diamond would be the icing on the cake. But with, or without the diamond, they had the makings of the kind of celebration which would make the college proud.
She emerged from the office where she’d been interviewed just in time to see an angry Amare walking quickly towards her.
“I told you not to do any social media,” he said angrily.
She was taken aback by his tone. He may have been controlling of her before, but he’d never spoken to her with such raw fury. It seemed he’d been more vehemently opposed to the social media interest than she’d imagined. It had touched a nerve. She didn’t know what nerve, but she was determined to find out. Amare was hiding something.
“I know you did. I assumed you didn’t want us to waste time on it. But I don’t believe itisa waste. The influencers wanted a story, and we gave them that. It’ll make the college happy and help keep bringing in the researchers and students.”
“It’s all about money, isn’t it?”
She shrugged. “It’s business, so yes, it’s about money. But that’s separate from my work. It’s just something that has to be done.”
Standing there, with his hands on his hips, he looked as if he were about to have a fight.
“No, it doesn’t,” he said. “Nothinglike that has to be done. It’s not only a waste of time, it’s also dangerous.”
Her frown deepened. “How could social media be dangerous?”
He shifted from foot to foot, as if not knowing how to answer the question. He raked his hands through his hair and twisted around until he had his back to her. She could see the tension in his shoulders and was baffled.
She put her hand on his shoulder. “Amare, what’s going on? Why are you so angry about these interviews?”
Slowly, she felt the tension ease. He took a deep breath and turned to her. She was stunned by the depth of sadness in his eyes.
“Please, tell me what on earth has upset you so much?”
He gave a brief nod, obviously having come to a difficult decision. “Okay.” He looked around at the public place. “But not here. Somewhere quieter.”
They stepped outside into the central garden. While there were people moving back and forth, intent on their business, the gardens were large enough for them to find a secluded corner.
He sat opposite her, his head lowered, his hands clasped between his legs. She was determined to give him as much time as he needed and she sat waiting patiently. Suddenly, he looked up.
“It happened five years ago. Before I met you. And it’s haunted me every day since.”
She nodded, trying to understand. “It must have been important to have had such an effect. Did something bad happen to someone you loved?”
He nodded.
A part of her felt a stab of pain that he’d had a whole different life, one of which she knew nothing and was not a part. As soon as the thought formed, she rejected it. It was stupid. She didn’t even want a relationship with him. Or, rather, she would not have one. They were two different things. She forced herself back in the moment. She really didn’t want to examine her feelings, and now was certainly not the time.
“Go on,” she said encouragingly.
But he didn’t look at her. He twisted his head around and looked across the gardens to where, in the distance, people walked back and forth, purposeful and business-like. Their activity somehow seemed to emphasize the quiet of their moment together.
“I’d known Layla since I was a kid.” His voice was flat, almost devoid of emotion. But she wasn’t fooled. She knew an entire world of emotion lay beneath it. “She was my cousin and used to hang out with my grandmother, too. Her parents had divorced and didn’t seem interested in her, so she came to live with me and my grandmother.”
“So you were close.”
He glanced at her before looking back at the view. “Yep. She was the sister I never had. It could have gone either way, but she was sweet. Kind. Vulnerable…” He pressed his lips together regretfully. “I didn’t find outhowvulnerable until years later. After my grandmother died, she came to Paris. I don’t know why, but at first I didn’t see what was going on. She stopping going out. I hardly noticed at first. Then she told me she had a boyfriend.”
He stopped speaking as if he’d remembered something which struck him dumb.
“And?”
