“An episode.” Zamir repeated the words, as disbelief thumped through him.
“Yes.”
“Is he …”
“He’s alive.”
“Thank God.” He closed his eyes.
“But he is not safe yet. Tests are still being run. It is not known how his recovery will progress. The palace has urged you to return immediately.”
“Of course.” He turned back towards the bedroom. Though the door was shut, he thought of Olivia. “Have the plane fuelled. We shall leave within minutes.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll ready everything.”
Zamir disconnected the phone. Of course he had to leave. His father would not rest easy until he knew Zamir was on hand. And his people would need stability and reassurance.
He swore harshly and tore through the room.
A man like Zamir didn’t need to consider such banalities as packing. He had attendants for that. But no one could explain this to Olivia, but him.
He pushed the door open and crossed to her side of the bed. Even in her sleep, she smiled. Even in her sleep, he could feel her positivity and warmth. He put a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her.
She moaned a little and threw an arm over her head. The sheet dropped down, revealing her perfect, round breast. He felt himself harden and was ashamed of the involuntary response to her. Even more so when he found himself wondering if there was time to be with her. It would be their last time together, and he knew that he would be tormented by that forever.
And yet, his father lay in a hospital bed on the other side of the world. How could he do anything but leave, as swiftly as possible?
“Liv,” he murmured, shaking her again. “You must wake up.”
Her words were thick with sleep. “What is it?”
He stroked her cheek. An ache was forming in the pit of his stomach. “I need to leave.”
She blinked her big, green eyes open. “Leave?”
“Yes.” Her eyes met his and he frowned. He could see every single bit of her in detail. If he closed his eyes, she was still there.
“Leave where?”
“I have to go home.”
“Home? You are home.” Her voice was groggy.
He laughed, but it was a sound of frustration. “Back to Dashan.”
She sat up, almost bumping her head against his. “What? When?”
“Right
now.”
“But why?” She put a hand on his chest. “Are you joking?”
“No.” He put a hand over hers, and pulled it from him. If she touched him for a moment longer, he worried he’d lose his resolve. “My father has had a heart attack.”
She clasped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Zamir. I’m sorry. Is he okay?”
“I won’t know until I get there.”