Page 50 of Scarlet Mark
“Welcome to Cairo, Mister and Mrs. Dagger,” he added, his eyes smiling excitedly. The kid must be studying English and eager to practice.
Amara’s hand tightened around mine, as it had all evening every time someone addressed us as a wedded couple. It was the alias I’d chosen for this trip. The only people who knew me by the nickname of Dagger were the Cavalieri and Arthur. It made for an excellent code name, considering my affinity for knives.
And tonight, I was Mr. Cav Dagger, just as I’d been in Germany. But Amara was playing the role of my wife, Scarlet Dagger.
Both identities held diplomatic immunity, hence our unique entrance at Cairo International Airport. Raven worked some magic for me to acquire the right documentation, something she did in addition to helping me with Amara’s new passport. I sent her a large sum of money to show my gratitude, and she sent me back a photo of her middle finger. Apparently, she didn’t appreciate the gesture.
I pulled the chair out for Amara, playing the part of gentleman. Then took my seat across from her. I’d chosen this restaurant because I suspected Raoul resided nearby and the records suggested he dined here often.
Unfortunately, I didn’t see him here tonight.
But maybe we’d get lucky.
“The entire menu is in Arabic,” Amara murmured, eyeing the placard on her plate.
It was a fairly straightforward menu. Not a lot of options. But the online ratings suggested it as one of the best in Cairo. “Do you prefer beef, lamb, or chicken?”
She twisted her mouth to the side. “Uh, depends on how it’s cooked. Do you have a recommendation?”
“Lamb.”
“Then I’ll have lamb.”
I smiled. “I like it when you’re agreeable, Amara.”
“Should I have chosen beef?”
“Definitely not.” I signaled for the waiter and ordered our main dishes with a few sides. My Arabic accent wasn’t perfect, mainly because the Egyptian dialect differed significantly from the formal language I studied in college. Thankfully, most television shows and movies were in Egyptian Arabic, helping me to learn various colloquialisms. Which I used now.
Amara wore an intrigued expression when we finished, her blue-green irises flaring with interest.
“What do you want to know, darling?” I asked before sipping from my glass of water on the table, then relaxed into my chair to admire the neckline of her long-sleeved dress. Modest—because we were in Egypt—but delectably enticing. And tight, too.
She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink. “I’m just amused by your ability to fluctuate between languages.”
“Says the woman who speaks German.” I tilted my head, curious. “What other languages do you know, Amara?”
“I’m not fluent; I just understand it. Same with French, Spanish, and Turkish.”
“Turkish?” I repeated. “That’s different.”
She shrugged. “My birth mother spoke it. I don’t remember much, but I can pick up words here and there.”
“Were you born in Turkey?” I wondered, unclear of her true origin.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “My background is fuzzy. We moved around a lot. I rarely saw my father, can’t even tell you what he looked like, actually.” Another shrug. “I remember being in South Carolina with my mother. Then all I can recall is Boston, where the Roses raised me.”
“You said the Roses move a lot as well?”
“Clarissa, yes. But I stayed with Geoff in Boston. They homeschooled me, then sent me to Harvard for my undergrad.”
With bodyguards, she failed to add. Bodyguards whom I’d added to my kill list after learning more about them this week.
Our waiter appeared with a serving of tea, offering it to Amara first and then to me. She sipped the warm liquid tentatively, then drank a little more after deciding she liked the unique mint flavoring. I joined her in the silence, content to just observe her a little without words.
We did this throughout the week, lapsing into a comfortable companionship that required no conversation. It was as if we just understood each other. Which made no sense because our backgrounds couldn’t be more different. She grew up a slave, trained to serve a future husband. I grew up with loving parents and wanted for nothing.
Yet neither of us turned out as expected.
