‘Darkhan, you lazy bastard,’ a voice hollered from downstairs. ‘We know you’re in there. Your security team told us.’
Farah stiffened in his arms. ‘Who is that?’
‘Shh,’ he murmured as he disentangled himself from her limbs. ‘I’ll take care of it.’
He grabbed his jeans on the way out and shoved them on. Then he headed downstairs and opened the front door of the villa. Sunlight spilled over the terracotta-tiled portico. Damian and Luke stood there, grinning like tomcats.
‘You idiots ever heard of calling first?’ Zach complained.
‘We did. We’ve been calling and texting since yesterday.’ Damian pushed past him into the foyer. ‘You didn’t respond.’ He slapped him on the back. ‘It’s great to see you.’
‘I forgot to check my phone.’ In fact he hadn’t checked his phone since...well, he couldn’t remember.
Luke ambled past at a slower pace. ‘Sweet digs. We thought you might be side-tracked by a beautiful...’ His friend’s voice trailed off and Zach followed his gaze to the top of the stairs where Farah stood in nothing but his T-shirt, holding a large chef’s knife in her hand. Zach grimaced. He really needed to show her where the suitcases were. And as for the knife... She squeaked out a noise as she noticed the three of them taking in her long legs and darted out of sight.
‘Woman,’ Damian filled in as Luke still stared wide-eyed. ‘And you are!’
‘Was that a knife?’ Luke asked, confused.
‘Ah, a fake one,’ Zach parried. ‘And she’s not just any woman. She’s my wife.’
He heard the note of pride in his voice and wondered if his friends did, too, the feeling he was struggling to name swelling inside his chest.
‘Wife? Well...hell,’ Damian sputtered. ‘I thought I heard hearts breaking when I woke up this morning. Where was the invite?’
‘We kept it small.’
‘So, okay...’ Luke shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe it. ‘So, when you coming to the dock?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll have to check with Farah.’
His two friends exchanged glances.
‘You’re coming to my party tonight, though, right?’ Damian questioned. ‘I mean, that is why you’re here, isn’t it?’
‘If the missus says yes,’ Luke said with mock seriousness.
‘Well, of course,’ Damian agreed. ‘If the missus says—’
‘All right, all right,’ Zach growled, half wondering if Damian’s party was really a good idea. ‘You two morons have had your fun, now shove off or you can forget a present.’
‘As long as she’s long-legged and big—’
Zach slammed the door on their laughing faces. His friends were confirmed bachelors and Zach was just glad not to be one of them any more.
He took the stairs two at a time and found Farah sitting cross-legged on the bed. He glanced around. ‘Where’s the knife?’
‘In the kitchen.’
He made a mock-salute to the ceiling and saw her mouth twitch. ‘Feel like a walk to the harbour?’
Her face brightened. ‘Yes. I’d love it. But I haven’t a thing to wear.’
Zach strolled to the walk-in closet, opened the suitcase and pulled out a pair of tiny shorts. He’d told her maid to pack the Western clothing Imogen had organised for him, but he’d yet to show Farah. He grabbed a white T-shirt he knew would show off her olive skin and dark hair to perfection, lace panties and a bra he couldn’t wait to remove.
She frowned when he dropped them on the bed. ‘Where did these come from?’
‘The built-in ’robe.’
‘The...’ she frowned. ‘I thought they were your suitcases in there. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘You didn’t ask.’ He smiled. ‘And it wasn’t as if you needed clothing.’
‘Oh.’ Clearly embarrassed, she picked up the shorts. ‘What are these?’
‘Shorts.’
She eyed them sceptically. ‘And what do I wear them with?’
‘A T-shirt. Flip-flops.’
‘Flip-flops?’
‘Footwear.’
She held the shorts against her hips and glanced back at him. ‘What else do I wear on my legs?’
‘Ah, nothing.’
She frowned. ‘On the street?’
‘Sure.’
She shook her head. ‘No.’ She jumped up off the bed and inspected the closet. A century later she came out holding a pair of jeans. ‘Where are my usual clothes?’