It was just before eight that evening when Junayd exited the limo and nodded to a wiry man with a timeless face. The man could have been fifty or a hundred for all he knew. Junayd motioned for his bodyguards, Issa and Hyder, to stay here and guard the entrance. The man opened the side door of the nightclub with a huge smile and twinkling eyes.
“I’m Harry, Your Highness. Idella asked that I escort you up to her table.”
“Thank you, Harry,” Junayd replied.
He followed the man along a corridor to a door that brought them to a spiral staircase. Harry climbed the steps leading up to the second floor and opened another door at the top. He motioned for Junayd to exit first. When he did, Junayd found himself in a small alcove. Harry stepped around him and pulled a curtain aside.
“I’ll take him from here, Harry.”
“Thanks, Karly. Enjoy your evening,” Harry murmured before disappearing back down the stairs.
Junayd followed Karly to Tarek's table. She pulled out a chair for him with a pleasant smile.
“Would you care for a drink?” Karly asked.
“Bourbon on the rocks,” he requested.
“I’ll have it for you in just a moment,” Karly replied before disappearing down the staircase.
“It’s good to see you,” Tarek greeted.
Junayd nodded, looking over the balcony to the stage below where Idella was singing. “She has an incredible voice,” he said.
“She is an incredible woman,” Tarek agreed.
“Is she yourAlmukhtar?” he asked, focusing on his brother’s face.
Tarek’s expression softened as he stared down at his soon-to-be wife. “Yes.”
“Is she also your 'amirat khurafiat alsahra?” he asked.
Tarek stiffened and glanced around. The closest tables were filled with Tarek’s bodyguards, two on each side.
“Yes.”
Tarek’s short answer pushed the air out of Junayd's lungs. He focused on Idella again, seeing her through a different lens.
Tarek’s‘amirat khurafiat alsahrahad saved his life—while killing a number of mercenaries. She had been instrumental in saving his oldest brother Qadir’s life. Did this mean that Midnight was like Idella? Was she some kind of international spy/assassin?
Idella’s performance ended and she exited the stage, pausing a few times on her way over to them to chat with patrons on the lower level. Junayd followed her movements, trying to imagine her as a killer instead of the beautiful, elegant, and seemingly fragile singing sensation that she was.
“Would you care to see the menu? The chef has a few specials tonight,” Karly said.
As the waitress shared the specials, Junayd sat back, sipping his drink. He ordered the stuffed lobster and vegetables while Tarek ordered for Idella and himself. By the time Karly was ready to leave with their order, Idella had finally reached their table. Junayd and Tarek stood and smiled in greeting.
“Good evening, Junayd. I’m glad you could make it tonight. Karly, a glass of White Zinfandel, please,” Idella requested.
“Right away, boss lady,” the waitress said before she left.
Idella kissed Tarek, their lips lingering in a subtle but passionate display of public affection that Junayd suspected would never grow old for them. He glanced at the stage to give them privacy, and a moment later, she slid into the seat between him and his brother with a sigh.
“Yet another stunning performance,” Junayd complimented.
“Thank you. I was surprised to find that you were still here. Tarek told me that you were planning to return to Jawahir weeks ago,” she said.
“A matter has caught my attention,” he replied.
Tarek’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Would it happen to be the same matter that is driving Jameel crazy?”