“My country is safe,” he said softly. He seemed to be weighing things up in his mind, choosing his next words carefully. “Later, we should talk.”
It sounded ominous, but she nodded. “Okay.”
The curiosity that was flashing through her was temporarily dissolved by the arrival of their meals.
Conversation was light as they ate, with Jordan telling stories of some of his kindergarten friends, and entertaining them in a way that Melinda would usually have brought to a gentle stop. She wasn’t one of those parents who thought children should be seen and not heard, but nor did she think they should have the run of the dinner table.
But a pleasant fog was engulfing her. Perhaps it was the exertion from the ice skating, or the bitterly cold night that had given way to cosy warmth inside the restaurant, but she was relaxed and happy.
So happy.
It was a sobering thought, one she didn’t allow to penetrate her mood. She could reflect on that later. On how this was supposed to be a casual fling. How it was meant to be a sex thing, that had turned into … what? Sharing a meal like a family? How she and Ra’if had been seeking each out in every spare moment for illicit love making? Lunch breaks, nights, it was a blur of incredibly hot memories.
She bit down on her lip and resolutely pushed the thoughts away. It was just one night. An aberration. After this, everything could go back to normal.
After the plates were cleared, Jordan’s eyes were heavy. He was slumped back in his chair, trying desperately to stay awake.
“I should get him home,” Melinda said, reaching down for her handbag.
“Yes, we will go.” He put a hand out, catching her wrist as she reached for her wallet. “Dinner is taken care of.”
She pursed her lips. “Ra’if, I wanted to get it.”
“I have an account here,” he said, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and kiss her pursed lips.
Melinda expelled a sigh of frustration then nodded. “But…”
“It was my choice to come here. Therefore my responsibility.”
Melinda bit down on her lip, reaching for Jordan. He was so tired now that his head was nodding forward every few moments. She lifted him against her front, marvelling at how big he’d got. “Well, thank you,” she said begrudgingly. “You were right; the food was delicious.”
The waiter approached and spoke to Ra’if in French; Ra’if responded in kind and then smiled tersely at Melinda. A frown pulled between her brows.
“What’d that guy do to you?” She asked once they’d emerged onto the footpath.
Ra’if sent her a curious look, reaching out and taking Jordan from her without a word. She let him, though that in and of itself should have provided pause for thought. He took Jordan from her and she allowed it as though it were the most natural thing in the world that he should cradle her son in his strong arms.
“Here.” He nodded across the street to a black Range Rover with darkly tinted windows.
“No Lamborghini?” She murmured with a tone of wry amusement in her voice. From the restaurant to the booked out ice skating rink and now this – yet another luxurious car, Melinda was becoming increasingly overwhelmed by the overt wealth Ra’if was displaying.
“I thought this would be better.” He reached for the door, pulling it inwards and to Melinda’s surprise, she saw there was a car seat fitted in the back.
“Oh,” she gasped in surprise. Ra’if placed Jordan in it gently, tightening the restraints and then stepped back.
“Would you like to check?”
“Yes, thanks,” though she trusted Ra’if implicitly. Nonetheless, she reached in and pulled on each strap; they were perfectly secured.
“That’s fine.”
He closed the door and guided her towards the rear of the car, away from little eyes that might peek open at any time.
“You’re too generous,” she said quietly.
“A car seat is not a difficult thing to arrange.”
She smiled at him, but it was a smile of doubts. There was something strange between them. A question she couldn’t find words. But her mind was pushing her, telling her to ask it anyway. Ask what?