Then, Zamir turned to face her slowly. His expression, when he looked at her, was loaded with emotion.
“Do you know why I am here in America?”
Olivia shook her head, then unhooked her handbag and placed it onto the table by the door. “I presume it has something to do with the place in the desert.”
“Yes,” he agreed on a sigh. “It has everything to do with it.”
God, he was weak. The whole time he’d been with Ra’if, all he had been able to think of was this woman. This woman with her beautiful body and transfixing face; and her natural manner. Now that he was alone with her, he wanted her. Not just her body, but everything. He wanted her to stay, until he tired of her. He wanted her to be with him until he got over this maddening obsession. He wanted her to take away the pain he felt seeing his brother in such a state.
Olivia shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Curiosity was burning through her, but she didn’t dare push Zamir. She knew that he would only speak when he wanted to. That her questions would not help him to open up.
“My brother Ra’if is being treated there.” The words were heart-wrenching, as though torn from his body.
Olivia kept any reaction from her features. “Treated?” She prompted after a small pause.
Zamir ran a hand across his chin. “Come.” He nodded towards the interior of his suite, and Olivia followed him. Memories of the previous night were impossible to ignore, for both of them, but Zamir continued as though he didn’t vividly recall how good her skin had felt beneath his palms.
“For several years now, Ra’if has struggled with life.”
Olivia nodded, though his statement was so vague she couldn’t possibly get a clear understanding of what he meant.
“He has been burdened from our youth with the pressure of inheriting the throne.”
Olivia sat and crossed her legs. “You are to inherit the throne,” she pointed out. It was not, after all, a secret.
“Yes.” A hiss. A sound of frustration. “Ra’if cannot. He does not wish it. And even if he did … our people would never accept him. He is seen as weak and volatile.”
Olivia studied his face. “Is he?”
Zamir’s laugh was a harsh sound. “No. But he is a drug addict, Olivia. Even if he recovers, he must avoid situations that will be stressful to him. Ruling Dashan requires strength and robustness.”
“Which you have in spades,” she surmised.
He closed his eyes. “I am the man I am today because of Ra’if.”
She didn’t say anything, and Zamir continued, “When our mother died, I was heartbroken. Ra’if held me together. He became my parent, in many ways. Though only a little older, he took care of me. Far better, as it turns out, than he did himself.”
Olivia felt her chest compress. “I’m so sorry, for both of you.”
His eyes glittered in his face. “Yes, I am sure you are.”
She couldn’t make sense of his statement, so she ignored it. “What is your brother’s prognosis?”
Zamir joined his fingertips together and rested them beneath his chin. “They do not give much away. I only know that this rehabilitation facility is considered to be the best in the world. And that I will stay until he is seeming more like his old self.”
“You don’t have duties back home?”
His lips lifted in a small smile. “My father is Sultan. He is still able to perform his role. When I return, I will take over a far greater share of his work. For now, Ra’if is my responsibility.”
Olivia felt an almost-overpowering desire to pull him to her. To wrap her arms around his powerful chest and tell him that everything was going to be okay. But she didn’t. How could she? She didn’t know that it would work out for Zamir’s brother. Nor did she have any right to comfort him.
“Last night …” His eyes met hers, and the charge of electricity that bolted through her made her core tingle.
“Don’t,” she murmured, shaking her head slowly.
“I must.” His smile was self-deprecating. “I feel an enormous, crushing sense of guilt and worry. It is not an excuse to have behaved as I did towards you, only I hope you understand that I needed to put Ra’if from my mind.”
“It’s okay, really,” she said, standing awkwardly.