As if on cue, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He reached for it automatically, his pulse accelerating as he scrolled down to read the email. He felt a tick of satisfaction. It was a good deal. He would talk to the lawyers, tie up the loose ends, and then maybe call Rashid.
Sliding his phone back into his jacket, he looked up to find Delphi staring at him, her face still and set.
‘What is that?’ he asked as she picked up the glass.
‘Vodka,’ she said crisply.
He held her gaze. ‘I don’t think drinking alcohol after an accident is a good idea.’
She shrugged. ‘Your time would be better spent getting used to the idea that what you think, say or do is no longer any of my concern.’
There was a short, hard pause, and then she downed her drink in one.
Tamping down a sharp, unprecedented urge to haul her across the table and prove her wrong by pressing her body against his and his mouth to hers, he switched his gaze across the room to the TV screen, where two wrestlers in figure-hugging shorts and lace-up boots were throwing each other around a ring to the cheers of an enthusiastic crowd.
He stared at the screen, his teeth on edge, body taut. It was a performance, of course. But the effort it took to plan those moves and the skill required to execute them with panache was real in the same way that his parents’ marriage was real. Rashid and Maryam hadn’t married for love, but they had worked their way to affection and understanding. Theirs was a commitment based on pragmatism. A strategic, choreographed performance by two invested participants.
He respected that, but he had never wanted it for himself. Until this moment, when it seemed infinitely preferable to this impasse of a marriage he shared with Delphi.
He studied her profile: the small straight nose, the high arched cheekbones, the soft mouth. Back at the hospital he’d wanted to give her a chance to do the right thing, but she had thrown it back in his face. So now they would do things his way.
‘My time would be better spent anywhere but here.’ He got to his feet. ‘Let’s go.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘For the last time, I’m not going anywhere with you.’
‘You will. Either on your own two feet or over my shoulder. You choose.’
She gave him an icy, disbelieving glare. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Try me,’ he said coolly.
He was calling her bluff. But, as the daughter of Ianthe Reynolds and Dylan Wright, he knew she’d blink first. She hated fuss, drama, scenes of any kind, and he felt a stab of satisfaction as Delphi got to her feet and sidestepped past him.
Outside, he lifted his hand in an imperious gesture. Instantly an SUV appeared round the corner and pulled up alongside the kerb.
‘You’ve stopped fighting me,’ he said as he joined her in the back seat and the car began to move smoothly forward.
‘I don’t need to fight you anymore.’ She shifted sideways, pressing her body against the door. ‘It will only take thirty minutes to get back home. And then you’ll be out of my life for good. Back to San Francisco, or wherever your next mega deal is taking place.’
‘I’m not going to San Francisco.’
He stretched his legs, dragging out the moment, wanting to prolong the sensation of having her right where he wanted her. Just like he had in bed.
‘I’m going to Dubai. And if you want a divorce—a nice, quick, uncomplicated divorce...’ He paused, his eyes finding hers. ‘Then you will be coming with me. As my wife.’
There was a small, stunned pause. In the subdued light of the car he could see her fighting to stay calm.
‘If you think that’s going to happen then maybe we should go back to the hospital and get you examined by a doctor.’
Her voice was steady, but the tick of fury beneath it tugged at his senses. She was close to losing control.
‘What part of I want a divorce don’t you understand, Omar?’
‘What part of We’re still married don’t you?’ he shot back. ‘And we are still married, Delphi.’ Reaching over, he caught her hand, turning it knuckle-side up. ‘With or without a ring. For better and worse.’
Her nostrils flared as she struggled to pull her hand away. ‘You can say that again.’ Twisting her fingers, she made a sound of frustration. ‘Why are you doing this? I know you have to win, but I’m not one of your business deals.’
‘Indeed you are not.’ His eyes meshed with hers. ‘In comparison to our marriage, any business deal would be a walk in the park.’