He convinced himself the lump in his throat was from the anger he muffled, but the truth was much more pathetic.
His eyes smarted as he looked off to the side, away from both the farmland he was due to inherit and Amal. “He wasn’t a very good father, Amal. Not much different than your dad. He paid my mother’s bills and brought us the occasional gift from Addis when he’d visit, but that was it. Certainly it wasn’t enough to make him father of the year.”
“But, Mansur, he was still your father,” she urged.
He saw her breath hitch when he looked to her suddenly. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore. As for seeing his family here in Addis—I’ll continue to think on it.”
And hopefully have a decision by the time the investigative firm searching for his father’s second family got back to him.
Standing, he looked down to her and offered a hand. “It’s time we head back.”
She tipped her head up to the sky, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun now lowering from its zenith in the sky. “Guess it’ll be late when we reach Addis Ababa.”
“If we leave now, we might catch the sunset,” he said.
* * *
“It won’t start.”
Mansur slipped free of the steering wheel and stepped from the car out to her. He crouched down by the car and looked under it. After a few minutes he stood and wiped his hands on a tissue he’d pulled from his pants pocket.
“We’re leaking fuel. If I had to guess, the gas tank was punctured by road debris. This country terrain is a lot rougher than the city streets. Even rougher than I predicted. I should have accounted for it.”
“Are we stuck here?”
Amal’s insides churned at the possibility. Being trapped out here with him, just the two of them, after everything she’d shared about her father—no! They had to find a way back to Addis Ababa.
Mansur scowled, the fierce look stopping her protest short, withering her tongue, halting whatever she’d planned to say.
“Amal, I’m not risking driving a car with a leaking fuel tank.”
“But—”
He gave her a hard look that brooked no argument. Then he leaned against the hood and fiddled on his phone. Taking the opportunity to study him from behind, Amal glowered at Mansur’s back and then poked out her tongue.
He chose that moment to look back at her and he froze, his hand clutching the phone to his ear and his face slackening at her childish antics.
She blushed, happy when he had to speak to whoever was on the line. It saved her from his questions.
Amal hunkered down and took her own peek beneath the car. The pungent smell of fuel struck her first, and then she saw the small but growing puddle of inky oil under the car. She’d known Mansur wasn’t lying about something so serious, but seeing it was truly believing it. And in this case she had to accept they were stranded for the time being.
Amal stood and brushed at her skirts. She rounded the car to where Mansur was, at the front, sitting on the hood now, speaking warmly on the phone. It amazed her how unfazed he was by their predicament.
“Half an hour is fine,” he said, smiling and nodding. “We’ll see you then. Bye.”
Amal coughed lightly, which garnered his attention. It wasn’t her fault, a breeze had kicked up the dust, but she was curious as to what he’d meant by seeing someone. Who was he expecting?
Not holding her in suspense for much longer, he patted the space beside him on the hood. “Might as well have a seat and get comfortable. I’ve called for rescue, but it’ll be a little while before they reach us.”
“Who’s rescuing us?” she asked, sliding up to sit beside him.
“A friend.”
Amal shrank in on herself at his succinct but obvious response. He’d sounded comfortable, talking to this friend of his. And they were obviously close enough that he felt he could rely on this person’s assistance now. She hated to admit it, but she was jealous. Envy for Mansur’s friend crept over her chest like heartburn. She wanted his trust, too. From what he’d told her, she’d had it once. Clearly the amnesia had changed that—otherwise wouldn’t they be closer now?
“Are we friends?” Amal barely heard her own question, softly spoken as it was.
Mansur had heard her, though. He tipped his head to her, his brows furrowing. “Where did that come from?”
“Are we?” she asked again, urgency raising her voice. “I know we must have been once, but are we still friends?”
Did he still consider her a friend?
“I have few friends—even fewer these days, with my work schedule being what it is.”
Mansur rolled his sleeves higher, the muscles of his forearms bunching. His face was devoid of any telling emotions. And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling he was evading eye contact for a reason.
She opened her mouth, closing it when he spoke first.
“You’re a family friend, so...yes,” he said.
“Is that all?”
She could’ve slapped a hand over her mouth, disbelieving her own ears. Had she really just asked him that? Oh, no!
Before she could explain her lapse of sanity to him, Mansur chuckled. His laughter was surprising, and a bit unsettling given the situation. Especially as she couldn’t tell whether he was laughing at her or not. Maybe he thought she was having a good joke. She hoped it was that. The idea of having to explain herself posed a daunting challenge.
“Why are you questioning our relationship?” he asked, once his humor wore off.
“Not questioning. I’m only curious.” And she hoped he’d indulge her intrigue.
“We didn’t speak for a long time, Amal. Not until you called me a couple of years ago. Then we started speaking again. Before that we both lived our lives. Chased our studies and our professional aspirations.” He inclined his head slowly, his face softer in a blink. “I do consider you a friend or I wouldn’t have asked you to come here with me.”
“I thought you did that for your mother. Mama Halima can be persuasive.”
Mansur smiled crookedly. “That she can—and yet she wouldn’t have twisted my arm into helping you if I hadn’t wanted to. And besides, I’d be stuck out here all on my own if I’d left you behind.”
Amal gripped her knees tighter, her knuckles popping white against her skin. He was joking—she understood that—but her grandmother had told her once that every joke had a nugget of truth embedded in it. What it sounded like to her was that she was a convenient companion. If he hadn’t already had this inheritance business in Addis Ababa he wouldn’t have given her the time of day. He’d be back in America already, far, far away from her and her problems as an amnesiac.
Licking her lips slowly, watching his eyes dip to her mouth for a fraction, Amal sucked in a shaky breath and felt flames ignite in her veins. Those flames were soon fanned furiously into a wildfire. The need to kiss him smacked her dead center in the chest. She had experienced something similar in the hospital. And, given the way he was looking at her, she didn’t think he’d stop her from leaning in for a kiss this time either.
The only difference now was the part of her that nagged, telling her she’d be making a mistake. Kissing him would leave her wanting more, she was sure of it. Her bones ached from the push-and-pull battle waging in her.
“This friend of yours...she lives in Addis Ababa?” Amal squelched the desire to lean in and grab onto him, pull his face closer and taste his mouth. Redirecting her thoughts elsewhere helped immensely.
“She?” He gave her one of his long looks and then, glancing around their surroundings, said, “Yes, we’ve worked together.”
“She works in the same field as you? In construction and engineering?”
“No,” he said simply.
Amal didn’t like the short, safe answer for a number of reasons. One, it felt like he was hiding som
ething, and two, she didn’t have any confidence that she held his trust. Not as a friend, despite what he said.
“You must be close,” she remarked, side-eyeing him.
“We’ve worked as business partners before.” He peered up at the cloudless blue sky, squinting. “I measure a person by how they conduct themselves professionally.”
She did much the same in her line of work. Some clients were shady, finding loopholes in order to wiggle out of contracts after construction was completed. Her amnesia would’ve ruined her business, too, if she hadn’t had a loyal staff around her. Her office manager Iman had stepped up, even without Amal’s explicit request. That was real friendship.
Amal’s heart swelled with a mix of pride and happiness for her staff. “I know what you mean,” she said, and she met his eyes.
“I knew you would.” He gave her another small smile. His phone vibrated, and he drew it out of his pocket, eyeing it for a solid minute before a stormy frown clouded his features. “I have to take this,” he announced, slipping off the hood and striding from her at a clipped pace.
He put some distance between them before he placed the phone to his ear and Amal watched him pace as he spoke, his words swept up with the kick of a breeze. The blue sky was looking slightly gray now.
She looked around, tired of watching him and wondering what kind of call had delivered such intense urgency into him. A squeeze from her gut warned that it couldn’t be anything good, though she dredged up the hope that it wasn’t bad news.
For his sake, she thought, her heart panging for him.
When he returned, Mansur didn’t leave her guessing.
“Sorry about that. It was the investigative firm I hired.” He clenched his jaw, a muscle leaping high in his cheek because of whatever he’d just learned.
She could only come to one conclusion, and she wasn’t sure of how to react. “They found your family?” She framed it as a query. No point in making assumptions.
Mansur’s curt nod told her she was right on the money.
“But it’s not good news?” she asked softly, and studied his curling lips and furled brows. “Are they not in Addis Ababa?” She couldn’t think of what else might have caused his displeasure. “Wait—are they not in Ethiopia?”
“They’re in Addis,” he said, grumbling. “That’s not the problem. I just hadn’t expected to hear back so soon.” He sighed. “The call caught me off guard. I had hoped to prepare a little more before I heard any word from the investigators.”
Amal was silent, speechless. She had gotten the sense he was dreading the decision about meeting with his father’s second wife and family. Only she hadn’t thought he was so affected by it. It made him seem...normal, honestly. Given his wealth and immeasurable successes, she’d assumed he had everything under control. Every facet of his life. And what he couldn’t control he’d easily wrangle into submission.
He’s human.
Of course he was. She’d built him up in her mind as something other... Untouchable.
Clouds scuttled across the once-clear sky. She tried not to interpret them as an omen, even as forbidding as they looked when they passed shadows over the earth. She focused on Mansur and his troubled expression. He looked ready to split at the seams. Him! She hadn’t thought anything could shake his stalwart composure. But here he was, pacing in front of her, plainly disturbed by the call he’d received from the private investigators into his blended family in Addis Ababa.
“What will you do?”
“I haven’t made a decision yet, but I’ve asked for the report to be sent to me from the firm.” He stopped finally, swiveling to face her and folding his arms. There seemed to be a new resolution dawning in him. It was palpable in his strong, even tone. “I won’t do anything until I know what I’ll be dealing with.”
“And who you’ll be meeting,” she said, finishing his thought. She was doing that a lot lately. It felt nice, knowing they were on the same wavelength.
“You agree?” He sounded a little taken aback when he asked the question.
“It’s smart to be cautious. Never hurts to do a little research. Might even save you some grief later down the road,” said Amal.
Mansur bobbed his head slowly, returning the smile she gave him. He climbed up beside her on the hood and leaned back, stretching out. He looked at her with a silent invitation in his eyes. Amal followed his lead, lying beside him, the windshield at their backs. It was pleasant, staring up at the sky and divining images in the clouds that speckled the heavens.
“It really is peaceful here.” She sighed happily and closed her eyes. “No traffic. No noise pollution. A perfect retreat from the real world.”
“Maybe we should both look into being farmers.”
Amal snorted a laugh at his suggestion, pealing out into giggles when his sonorous laughter mingled with hers. She watched him turning onto his side, his hand propped under his head, and it compelled her into mirroring him. She found it hard to avoid looking at his mouth when he spoke.
“I was thinking about your hospital. If you’re looking for funding...” He trailed off, the offer speaking for itself.
“Why do you want to help? It’s not like you’ll be in Hargeisa again anytime soon.”
“I won’t, but I like to put my resources to good use where I can.”
“I know,” she muttered, realizing that she’d divulged more than she cared to about her snooping online. Somehow it was hard to keep secrets around Mansur. Next to impossible to smother her true feelings. Sighing, she said, “I looked you up online.”
“What did you learn?” he inquired, not appearing upset by her news.
“You donate to several charities. Also, you’re very generous with your money when it comes to helping start-up companies.”
“And...?”
“And your success and philanthropy haven’t gone unnoticed. Getting on the 40 under 40 is quite the accomplishment,” she said. “I’m shocked it hasn’t gone to your head.”
“How so?” he wondered.
“Most millionaires would be lapping up the glory in front of the media. But you’re not most millionaires.”
“Couldn’t find many pictures of me?” he guessed teasingly.
Amal pursed her lips, oscillating between whether to put the brakes on her interrogation or to continue chipping away at him.
This might be the last time you get to speak to Mansur about this. He’ll leave for America and you’ll never have this opportunity again.
Sufficiently motivated, she pressed on. “Why is that?”
“Why aren’t there many pictures of me?” He raised a shoulder, his shrug full of mystery. “I like my anonymity.”
Clearly seeing that it wasn’t enough, he sighed heavily and flopped onto his back once more, his hands interlacing over his stomach, arms bunching and flexing with his restless shifting.
“I’m not a famous actor or musician, or a revered journalist or politician. It’s true, I’m the face of a multi-billion-dollar company, but I’m also just a man who likes to work hard for his rewards. Being the CEO of Aetna hasn’t changed me beyond the fact that I’ve got more power to help the helpless and to move the company in a progressive direction. It’s exciting to work with billionaire hoteliers, shipping magnates and steel moguls, but it’s just as thrilling to set aside time to connect with local communities and the non-profit social organizations linked to them.”
He tucked his arms under his head, a faraway look in his eyes.
“Not all of those organizations get a fair shake. No one should feel left behind. No one should feel as though they come second on someone’s priority list.”
Amal thought of Mansur’s father, and she knew without a doubting bone in her body that he had to be thinking about him, too. It had her thinking about her father, too, and his last visit. About the visceral sense of abandonmen
t that he’d left her with when he’d walked away from her again.
He hadn’t wanted her as a daughter. Not when her mother had died, nor when her grandmother had passed. She was his family when he desired money from her—that was all. It was a difficult truth to swallow, and it choked her even now, when she should be able to move on.
She rested flat on her back once more and blinked up at the sky, bottling her depression.
“Amal?” Mansur’s voice slipped into her ear, his minty breath washing over the side of her face.
She turned her head, blinking slowly to avoid crying. “Yes?”
“Thanks for coming along with me.”
Amal smiled, her lips trembling from the strenuous effort not to cry and from being so close to him and holding back. “What are friends for?”
Mansur looked away and she forced herself not to read anything into it. Especially when his hand brushed against her side and she lowered her hand to touch the back of his. She expelled the breath she hadn’t known she was holding, feeling a measure of relief pouring through her.
The moment was burst by the sound of a distant aircraft. Amal didn’t give it much thought until the noise couldn’t be ignored. The dot that was a helicopter grew bigger and bigger, until it filled the sky only a hundred feet from them, before passing over the hill and Mansur’s sports car and moving further on.
An icy pool of dread manifested itself in her insides. “Is that—?” She stopped short when it became obvious that Mansur couldn’t hear her over the aircraft’s whirring blades.
He sat up and turned to follow the chopper with narrowed eyes, a hand going to his face to protect his eyes from the dust and debris being swept up into the air.
Coughing lightly, Amal sat up too and watched the helicopter slowly sway and descend, settling on the road a safe stretch from them, yet within walking distance.
She panicked and looked to Mansur again. “Are we riding in that?” She couldn’t believe him. After knowing how shaky she’d been on his luxury plane, now this? She was shaking her head already, sensing what was coming. “No, no, no... I can’t.”
“We have no choice.” He leaned in to speak directly into her ear. “It’s the only way back to Addis. The quickest way, Amal. I’m sorry.”
Harlequin Romance September 2021 Box Set Page 58