She inhaled, pressed Talk, put the phone to her ear, and almost had her eardrum blown out.
She snatched the phone away in shock. And that was before she deciphered her father’s yelling.
He was calling Amjad every filthy name the region had ever spawned. Some she hadn’t thought it had.
With her heart missing beats, she ventured the phone closer to her ear again. The invective continued unabated. Her father was on the warpath. Good thing she’d been the one to get his call.
After many false starts, she shouted, “Father!”
“Maram, b’nayti!” her father exclaimed in surprise. “What did that mad monster do to you? I don’t care how powerful he is or if I’m not in his league. I swear I’ll avenge you. I’ll make him rue the day he brought you into this—”
“Father…Father!” She had to shout again to abort his ranting. “Calm down, okay? Amjad didn’t do anything to me. I’m fine. Better than fine. He saved me—”
“He didn’t save you.”
Here we go. The rant about how Amjad had “ruined” her, how he’d “pay” if he didn’t “fix his mistake.”
She overlapped his rage. “You know he did. But if you’re talking about afterward—”
Her father cut her off, shrieking now. “He didn’t save you! That insane bastard kidnapped you. He’s holding you hostage!”
Nine
After a moment of stunned silence, Maram scoffed, “Overreacting much? So it’s been ten days, but it’s not like I haven’t gone radio-silent for longer, or that I ever report to—”
“I went out of my mind when I heard of the sandstorm.” Her father continued ranting as if she hadn’t spoken. “I thought you were dead until I gathered that no one was looking for Amjad and I realized. It was all a plan. He knows that region like no other, knew the sandstorm was coming, arranged to kidnap you under its cover. I called him hundreds of times to negotiate your return, but that scum never answered. No one connected with him would take my calls. He wanted to wreck me with fear for you first before he made his demands—”
“Holy horror stories, Father,” she exclaimed, cutting him off before he gave himself a heart attack. “Did you have a relapse? This has to be fever-induced.”
“Put that bastard on. Let’s have this out.”
“I’m not letting you talk to Amjad in this state.”
He went silent. Following his uncharacteristic explosion, that unsettled her. Before she could voice her alarm, he spoke again, rage drained, leaving his voice a thread of sound.
“What has that snake told you?”
She exhaled heavily. “He’s told me plenty, but let’s not open that snake pit. You know what you offered him, what you made him think of me, of both of us.”
“And I’m thankful he turned me down and saved me from my folly. I saw the error of my ways, but that didn’t save you. He not only kidnapped you, but he also managed to turn you against me. It makes me ill thinking how far he’s taken advantage of your gravely misplaced hero worship of him.”
That was more like it. Back on the track of her charted expectations. “Amjad didn’t take advantage of me. I’m not some teenager with a crush on a dangerous bad boy. Amjad is—”
He cut her off again, his bleakness more effective in silencing her than his fury. “Is a merciless madman who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. I only wish his original plan, of kidnapping me, had worked, that I hadn’t sent you in my place and put you in his power. I wish he’d scared and repulsed you and made you his unwilling captive, rather than hiding his real face and intentions and conning you into being his willing pawn. It will be so much worse when you realize the depth of his deception and cruelty.”
Man. He seemed to believe the unbelievable things he was saying. That Amjad had planned to kidnap him under cover of the sandstorm, had kidnapped her in his stead when he hadn’t shown up.
But Amjad had said he’d called her father, and his phone hadn’t rung once. Her father said Amjad had not only never called, but had kept his phone off to make him squirm about her fate.
One of them was lying. Who was obvious. Her father.
And though he’d already used—or tried to use her—to his gain, with and without her knowledge, it still crushed her he’d so passionately ply her with such damaging lies to keep her away from Amjad, now that he had a better-for-his-interests groom planned for her….
“From now on, you deal with that turncoat.”
Maram jerked. Amjad.
He closed the door, laughter traversing his beloved voice. “She now wants her ‘girlfriend’ and your girly get-togethers and cooing heart-to-hearts.” He appeared at the edge of the corridor, his beauty blazing with indulgence and amusement. “Call me, the male nuisance, when it’s time for dirty work and heavy lifting, apparently my only use to her n—”
He stopped, his smile fading like drenched embers.
He must have felt her agitation even before his eyes sought its reason, the phone held limply at her side. Her father’s voice was emitting from the speaker, contorted to a cartoonish parody.
Her heart hammered. She didn’t want him involved in this. Didn’t want him despising her father any more than he already did.
“Amjad, let me handle…”
The rest of her words dissipated.
Amjad knew it was her father. It was in his eyes. The venom of abhorrence, followed by the flame of aggression, then the ink of dismay. Now his face was gripped with resignation. That of someone whose plans had been prematurely exposed?
Wow. Her father had gotten to her. Amjad must only think her father was calling to stir up trouble. As he was.
Before she could insist she’d handle this, Amjad moved closer, eyes now heavy with…apology? Anxiety? Anguish?
She wouldn’t speculate. He’d explain everything. She’d believe him as she always did.
He silently held out his hand, demanding the phone. Her hand rose, surrendering it and the whole situation—which she suddenly felt would decide the course of her life—to him.
After a moment’s hesitation, as if he was loath to have her father’s voice sully his hearing, he put the phone to his ear. He turned his face away as he did. But she’d seen it. The transformation that came over him as he geared himself to address her father.
He looked almost…demonic.
She shuddered. And that was before she heard his low snarl.