The Husband She Never Knew(16)
Author: Kate Hewitt

‘I see,’ he said quietly, and she bit her lip.

‘Ammar, I know I’m not in danger from you. Not … not the kind of danger that requires a bodyguard, at any rate.’

‘What kind of danger are you talking about, then?’ he asked evenly.

Her eyes were luminous as she stared at him, her lip still caught between her teeth. ‘Nothing,’ she whispered, but he knew what she wasn’t saying. Of course he did. She was afraid he would abandon her again. Reject and hurt her, just as he had before.

Every instinct in him reared up, urged him to cloak himself in cold anger. But he was different now, he wanted to be different, and so with effort he said, ‘I would never do anything to hurt you, Noelle. Never.’

‘I know you wouldn’t,’ she whispered, but again he knew what she wasn’t saying. You wouldn’t mean to.

‘I love you,’ he said, the words like jagged pieces cutting him up inside. He knew he sounded reluctant, grudging, but he meant every word. It was just so hard to say them. ‘Come here,’ he commanded gruffly and, with her eyes wide and dark, a frown still wrinkling her forehead, she slowly walked over to him. Ammar closed the last few inches, his hands curling around her shoulders, drawing her pliant softness to him. He leaned his forehead against hers, her hair whispering against his face, and breathed in the sweet feminine scent of her. ‘I love you,’ he said again, and this time it sounded better. As if he meant it, and was maybe even happy about it.

She let out a trembling laugh. ‘Does it get easier the more you say it?’

‘A little bit.’ She didn’t answer, but he saw a tear form at the corner of her eye. ‘Oh, please, don’t,’ he muttered. He couldn’t bear the thought that he was still making her cry. ‘Don’t.’ And then he kissed her, brushing her lips softly against his, his thumbs catching the dampness of her tears.

She kissed him back softly, a promise. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I have my own ghosts, Ammar. My own memories and fears. It’s not just you that has to learn to be different.’

He’d never thought Noelle needed to change, yet it humbled him now to know she was trying, just like he was. Trying to trust. Wanting to love.

‘We’ll help each other,’ he said gruffly. He was still unused to these words, these conversations. So much emotion, so much painful honesty. As gently as he could, he eased away from her. ‘I should go. I have business to attend to.’ She nodded, her face shadowed once more, questions in her eyes. ‘Have dinner with me tonight,’ he said, and her expression lightened, if only a little.

‘OK.’

He stared at her, words crowding his throat, words he was still afraid to say. He loved her; she loved him. Why couldn’t it be simple?

Everything still felt difficult, impossible even, insurmountable obstacles strewn across the twisting path to their happiness. Secrets. Sins. Sorrows and fears.

And when those emerged into the harsh and revealing light of day, Ammar wondered bleakly, what would be left? Would Noelle still love him? Would she even look at him?

He was afraid to answer that question.

With a jerky nod of farewell, he turned and left.

CHAPTER NINE

‘NOT that one.’

Noelle glanced back in amused surprise as Ammar issued his directive. She’d been about to select an haute couture gown in silvery-grey from the rack of dresses the shop assistant had brought forward, but paused when he shook his head. ‘What’s wrong with it?’

‘Too dark.’

‘Too dark?’ The dress shimmered with subtle silver threads.

‘How about a bright colour?’

Noelle pursed her lips. ‘Bright colours aren’t fashionable.’

‘I thought you predicted fashion,’ Ammar pointed out all too reasonably, and Noelle let out a little laugh.

‘I do, but—’ She stepped back, arms crossed. ‘I don’t think there’s a bright colour in this whole boutique.’

‘Then let’s go somewhere else.’

She glanced at him speculatively; he was stretched out on a cream leather divan, looking intensely masculine, even in this feminine and fussy little boutique. She’d asked him to attend a charity gala with her that evening, their first public outing together since returning to Paris, and Ammar had agreed on one condition: she had to buy a new dress.

Noelle had laughed, insisting she had plenty of dresses already, but Ammar had been just as insistent. He wanted to buy her a dress. And she was happy to humour him; she loved seeing him smile, looking relaxed. This last week in Paris had been full of such moments, smiles and kisses and sudden shared laughter. Every joyful moment felt like a miracle, a wonder.

She’d seen him almost every day, and most definitely every night. Her body ached with the joyful exhaustion of many nights spent awash with pleasure. Even now, everything in her tightened with both longing and anticipation at the thought of the night ahead, when the charity gala ended and Ammar took her back to her apartment, and then to her bedroom, and to her bed. He’d strip the dress—whichever one she chose—slowly from her body, taking his time, torturing her with expectation, smiling all the while that slow, sleepy smile she’d come to know and love. And then—

‘Noelle?’

She felt her body jolt in surprise and turned to smile at him, felt a telltale flush flood her face. From the glint in Ammar’s amber eyes, she suspected he knew the nature of her thoughts. ‘Sorry—what were you saying?’

‘Another boutique?’

She was still blushing. ‘Yes, all right.’

They walked down the Champs-Elysées and Ammar reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. These small gestures, which would have been so hard a few weeks ago, now came, if not naturally, then more easily. Everything he did was deliberate, a choice. He chose her, and Noelle loved him all the more for it.

‘Let’s go in this one,’ he said, and pointed to a tiny shop crowded with dresses in a rainbow of colours. Noelle looked at it dubiously; she’d never been in it and normally wouldn’t give it a second glance.

‘All right,’ she said, and slipped into the small boutique. Ammar strode ahead of her, pushing aside racks of dresses with such authority that Noelle could have laughed. She never would have expected him to take an interest in women’s fashion.

‘This one,’ he said, and withdrew the most ridiculous dress Noelle had ever seen. Bubblegum-pink, strapless with ruffled tiers falling in flounces to the floor, it was an outrageous meringue of a dress, and something she’d never, ever wear.

‘Ammar—’

He glanced at her over the ruffles, his eyes glinting mischievously. ‘Please.’

Laughing in both exasperation and amusement, she grabbed the dress from him. ‘Fine. But it will look ridiculous.’

Strangely, it didn’t. Noelle stared at her reflection, amazed that the flouncy pink ruffles somehow worked. She wouldn’t have been caught dead in a dress like this for years. Ever since she’d started working for Arche, started being thin and glamorous and hard-nosed. The person she’d wanted to become, even if it had never been who she really was.

‘Noelle?’ Ammar tapped on the dressing room door. ‘How ridiculous is it?’

‘It’s not ridiculous at all.’ She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. She looked more like herself in this dress than she could have ever imagined. Her face was softer, her colour higher, her eyes brighter. She looked … happy. Happier than she had in a long, long time.

‘May I see it?’ he asked, and she opened the door.

Ammar stared at her for a long moment without speaking, without any expression at all. Noelle felt her heart seem to stop right in her chest. ‘Do you like it?’ she whispered and he took both her hands in his.

‘You’re unbearably beautiful,’ he said, and she let out a little laugh as she twirled around, self-conscious and yet beaming.

‘I feel like Cinderella.’

‘You wanted a Cinderella dress, didn’t you?’

She stopped mid-twirl, her heart slamming in her chest. She’d forgotten she’d said that, but he hadn’t. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I did.’

He smiled and, reaching for her hand, helped her to finish the twirl. Her dress flared out around her, a swirl of candy-pink. ‘Then be Cinderella for an evening. And at midnight I’ll take you home.’ His eyes darkened, his gaze heavy on hers and Noelle knew he was imagining how the evening would end. They’d made love every night since coming to Paris, and yet it still wasn’t enough. She still felt the heady thrill of anticipation at the thought of spending another night in his arms.

‘As long as your car won’t turn into a pumpkin,’ she quipped, and went back into the dressing room to change.

Ammar arranged for the dress to be delivered to her apartment, and they wandered back into the summer sunshine. It was a beautiful day, the air drowsy and warm, Paris at its best, full of tourists and lovers. They stopped at a pavement café overlooking the Seine, everything bathed in lemony light.

‘I want to show you something, after this,’ Ammar said, and Noelle looked up in surprise.

‘You can spare the afternoon, as well as the evening?’ she asked, stirring her coffee. She took milk now, and one sugar.

Ammar gave a small smile. ‘I am the boss, after all.’

‘But you’re not too busy—with your meetings?’

‘I decide the meetings.’ Ammar took a sip of his own coffee, the simple movement somehow repressive. He didn’t, Noelle knew, want to talk about his work. He never did. She wished he would share more of it, wanted to help and support him, yet any time she asked he always shut the conversation down, kindly but firmly. Clearly work was off-limits, and Noelle could understand why; it was a messy, unpleasant business, restoring Tannous Enterprises, righting so many wrongs. She still wanted to be a part of it, and every part of Ammar’s life, but she recognised she needed to be patient. Ammar had given so much of himself already; he would give that, too, eventually. She had to believe that.

‘So where are we going now?’ she asked as they left the café and began walking towards the narrow cobbled streets of Paris’s Latin Quarter.

‘Oh, just a little place I know,’ Ammar said, sounding so nonchalant Noelle immediately wondered what he had planned. Ammar didn’t do nonchalance. Everything was deliberate.

Still holding her hand, he led her down one narrow street after another, past tiny pavement cafés and shops, bakeries with baskets of baguettes out front and patisseries with trays of glossy strawberry-topped tarts.

Then he stopped suddenly in front of a shop that, as far as Noelle could tell, was abandoned. Its front window was dusty and empty and peeling gold letters on the crooked, creaking sign indicated that it had once sold women’s shoes.

‘If you’re worried about whether I have shoes to match the dress, I don’t think this is the place to go,’ she joked, but Ammar didn’t answer her, just slipped a key out of his pocket.

‘Here we are.’ With a little rattling he opened the door to the shop and ushered Noelle into its dim, dusty interior. ‘You need to use your imagination, of course,’ he said, ‘but what do you think?’

‘What do I think?’ Noelle stifled a sneeze. ‘It’s … Well, it’s …’ She stopped helplessly. ‘What is it?’

Ammar chuckled softly. ‘It’s nothing but an old empty shop right now, obviously. But, as for what it could be—your bookshop, of course.’

‘My …’ She trailed off, suddenly seeing the empty space with its dust and rubbish in a completely new way. ‘My bookshop,’ she repeated. ‘I didn’t even think you remembered—’

‘I remembered.’ He pointed to the window. ‘Armchairs in the window so people can read in the sun. Paintings on the wall, local work by aspiring artists. And you wanted a little café as well, didn’t you—selling brioche and croissants and, of course, coffee.’

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, that’s exactly how I imagined it.’

‘The place is for rent now that the last business went bankrupt. The owner doesn’t want to sell, but a five-year lease is reasonable.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think,’ Noelle said slowly, ‘that you’re wonderful.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m wonderful?’

‘Yes. For remembering what I said. What I wanted. And helping me to make it happen.’ She crossed the shop and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. ‘That means so much to me, Ammar.’ She knew he could have bought her a huge boutique on the Champs-Elysées. It would have been a negligible sum to him, and yet he hadn’t. It wasn’t about the money, or even the shop. It was about him knowing what her dreams were and wanting to make them real. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, and this time she brushed her lips against his.

Ammar drew her to him, deepened the kiss. ‘We could,’ he suggested huskily, ‘christen the shop.’

Noelle let out a little laugh even as a thrill ran through her. Already Ammar was sliding his hand under her skirt, his palm warm and firm on her hip. She pressed against him, desire racing through her veins, igniting deep inside her.

‘We could,’ she murmured against his mouth, and kissed him again. Ammar tightened his hands on her hips, guiding her to cradle his arousal. Noelle let out a shuddering breath. Somehow, in the space of a few seconds, it stopped being a playful exchange and turned into something raw and urgent. Ammar backed her up against the wall, his mouth relentless and demanding on hers as he hooked her leg around his waist. Noelle pulled him closer, her breath coming in panting gasps as she gave him kiss for kiss, demand for demand.