Once upon a time Omar had said almost those exact words to her, and she had believed him. That was why she’d asked him to be there when she went to visit her parents’ graves. Only he had let her down. Time and time again he had left her on her own. London had simply been one time too many.
‘So, the magicians are circulating now.’ Hamdan looked at the schedule on his phone. ‘Then the aerial acrobats will start their show before the fireworks begin at midnight.’
Omar nodded, because that was what was expected of him. Frankly, he’d had more than enough fireworks over the last forty-eight hours to last a lifetime—but they were expected too.
Mohammad, his second-eldest brother, frowned. ‘Unless Father decides he wants to retire early, in which case—’
Omar stood in silence, watching his brothers’ talk. Despite the age gap, and their having different mothers, he loved his siblings, but being surrounded by his entire family always had the same effect on him. He felt swamped, unremarkable, irrelevant.
And probably that would never change. Because despite being thirty years old, and the CEO of a global media business, he was still the little brother. A postscript in a nappy. A last-minute addendum to an already over-long agenda.
And who bothered reading those?
Except him, of course.
He glanced over to where Rashid stood with his wives, his blue eyes moving restlessly around the room. It would take more than aerial acrobats and magicians to hold his father’s attention.
Only his mother and Jalila had even come close to treating Omar as a person in his own right. Glancing across the room, he narrowed his gaze on his favourite sister with pinpoint accuracy and felt a flicker of irritation as he realised that he only knew where she was because she was talking to Delphi.
A second flicker followed, as he was forced to admit it wasn’t a one-off and that he had known his wife’s exact location in every second that had passed since Hamdan had towed him away from her side.
Not that he’d looked. On the contrary, his neck was aching with the effort of not looking. Now, though, he had an excuse, and he watched Delphi smile, then laugh with his sister, his shoulders alternately tensing then relaxing. Seeing her so at ease with Jalila was both baffling and oddly satisfying. But he was also jealous that his sister had so effortlessly done in minutes what it had taken him weeks to achieve.
Aware suddenly of a silence behind him, he turned to find his two eldest brothers watching him in amusement.
Mohammad nudged him in the ribs. ‘Are we boring you, little brother?’
‘Not at all—’ he began.
‘Go.’ Hamdan grinned and gave him a little push. ‘Go and talk to your beautiful wife. We can manage without you.’
But of course they could, he thought, as he made his way across the room. Throughout his life he had been extraneous to requirements. A small boy running after his much older siblings, crying and shouting, ‘Wait for me!’ Or tugging at the sleeve of his father’s robe in a fruitless attempt to gain his attention.
It was why he had wanted to set up his business far away from his family. Here, as an Al Majid, he would have been given a high-ranking job for life, no questions asked. But he needed more. He needed something for himself. Something of his own. Something unique and beautiful and shimmering that would make his family, and in particular his father, sit up and take notice.
His eyes locked on his wife, and he felt hunger punch through his chest. In that dress, Delphi ticked all those boxes and more. In a room filled with beautiful, wealthy people and priceless objects she shone the brightest.
Breath catching, he let his gaze skim over the glittering iridescent fabric. But it wasn’t just the sequins and tulle that made it hard for him not to look over and even harder to look away. She might not see it, and she certainly didn’t exploit it, but as well as Ianthe’s wild-honey-coloured eyes and Dylan’s famous pout, Delphi had inherited her parents’ ability to light up a room.
In a world where people fought tooth and nail for their fifteen minutes of fame, she was an enigma. The child of two celebrities and yet she shunned the spotlight. A beautiful young woman whose strength was her vulnerability.
And she was always vulnerable. Even now, dressed like a goddess, he could almost see her trembling inside. And outside, he thought, as Jalila took hold of his wife’s shaking hands.
‘You two seem to be getting along very well.’
‘Finally!’Jalila turned, her forehead creasing into a mock frown as Omar kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Don’t bother coming to say hello, will you?’
‘I tried. You were with Khalid.’
Her face softened. ‘Have you seen him yet?’ As he shook his head, she clutched at his arm and gave a squeal of excitement. ‘Thank goodness! I’m just going to go and get him. So don’t go anywhere. Either of you. Please,’ she added, before turning to scamper away.
Beside him, he felt Delph stiffen. ‘She won’t be long.’
‘It’s fine. I don’t mind waiting. I like her.’
He felt his stomach clench, and a quickening of his pulse as she gave him a small, tight smile. It reminded him of the first time they’d met, and he found himself responding just as he had then. Only why? It was over. Except it didn’t feel over when she was standing this close...
‘You look beautiful, by the way,’ he said abruptly. ‘I wanted to say so earlier. But I was angry.’