With that ominous warning, Laine found herself treated that evening to one of the most awkward dinners she’d ever experienced. The four of them sat at the end of the long dining table, amidst the scent of fresh paint. Amin didn’t seem to be willing to say much of anything, so Hadiya asked him questions about his wife (pregnant again) and his children (three so far, and all doing well). She also chatted on about her own schooling, although she was on break now, which was why she was able to spend time at the palace.
“I love the new colors in here, don’t you, Amin?” Hadiya said, passing a meat and rice dish to Laine. “I cannot wait until we get the lamps up. It will be lovely.”
“I’m sure,” Amin said demurely.
His large eyes moved toward Laine. They were darker than Hadiya and Aziz’s eyes. But that wasn’t what made Laine uncomfortable when she looked into them. It was the fact that they held such hostility, whereas Aziz and Hadiya’s eyes, no matter the circumstance, always held kindness.
“We spent a lot of time discussing the needs for the dining room. In the end, we’ll have a lot of traditional accents, as well as several paintings from Bahraini artists,” Laine said. She looked to Aziz and smiled knowingly.
They had spent one afternoon at a local museum and had the opportunity to speak to an artist about his work. Laine had felt so energized afterward that she’d let Aziz take her out to see the rest of the city. They had ended up at a restaurant where they had flirted in a private room and Aziz had made her close her eyes while he fed her delicacies.
Aziz sipped his drink and smiled across the table coyly. Laine met his eye and slowly licked her lips. Amin glowered.
After dinner, Aziz excused them on the pretense that he and Laine would need to discuss a few things related to the renovations. Hadiya bid them goodnight and gave Aziz a little swat and a knowing look before she sashayed out of the room, taking her other brother’s arm as she went.
“Forgive my brother’s behavior tonight,” Aziz said as they walked together down a hallway that led towards the northern exit. “Do this for me. He does not deserve your consideration, but I am asking.”
“I understand he may be jealous of you. He’s the older brother, after all.”
“Perhaps a bit. He thinks, at least to a degree, that he is protecting me. But that does not excuse his rudeness toward you.”
Laine wondered if she should mention what she’d heard earlier. “I’ve experienced worse. There are plenty of people in the world willing to look down on me.”
“I would suggest your Mr. Brandt doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, either,” Aziz said.
“No. And I won’t forget what happened, but for now, I’m not ready to cut that tie. You have to have good connections if you want to make it in business. I’ve done good work here so far, and he’ll have me back at the office soon enough. It has to get better.”
“It doesn’t, actually. History doesn’t progress in a beautiful climb toward the better. We have to fight for it to be so.” Aziz approached a large pair of double doors. Laine remembered them leading out into the grounds that surrounded the palace.
“Where are we going?” she wondered aloud.
“Just through here.”
Laine walked through the offered door.
The scent struck Laine first. The almost overwhelming aroma filled her senses, before she could even register what she was looking at. Roses. Roses, everywhere. The previously barren space now hosted circles of rose bushes of different colors, radiating outward from a sparkling white fountain.
“Roses?” Laine stepped out to get a closer look. “How can roses survive here?”
“Roses are tougher than they are given credit for. If given enough water and nourishment, they can thrive, even in merciless temperatures.” Aziz walked up behind her and placed a hand on her back. “When I spoke to my gardener, it turns out that the ‘double delight’ is actually one of the hardier roses one can plant. So I brought them in.”
Laine leaned over and looked closer. All of the roses were two colors. In the first row, they were pink and yellow, but in another row, they were purple with white stripes. Each row changed the colors, but every one of them was bicolored.
“Tiger roses,” Laine murmured, touching one of the purple and white ones.
Aziz brushed his fingers through her hair. “Some beauty for my foreign flower.”
“For me? But I’ll be leaving soon,” Laine protested.
“You’ll have to come back occasionally to check that work is being completed to your standards, yes?” Aziz trailed his fingers down her neck. “You may even want to come back just to visit. This garden is yours, either way. I hope you like it. I don’t know if our country has given you the inspiration you needed, but you have certainly inspired me.”