Page 46 of Out of Office Nights
‘I don’t have any torrid secrets,’ she replied far too hotly.
‘No?’
Hard eyes dug into her, evicting emotions she needed to hide.
She dragged her gaze away, staring at the same spot he’d watched minutes ago. The glittering sea she’d swum in as a child, watched over by the strong, strict but loving grandmother who’d done everything in her power to stop her daughter falling into the same pitfalls she’d stumbled into. And having failed at that,her even greater efforts to prevent the same from happening to her granddaughter.
Sabeen’s heart squeezed at the remembered heartache of the toughest confession of her life: telling her grandmother that she’d tangled with a playboy and got her emotions crushed by Nathan Gray. Of the tears and disappointment, then the entreating that this cursed legacy of falling for undeserving men ended with Sabeen. Her own vow to get her life back on track afterJidawas gone.
No way was she about to disclose any of that to Teodor Domene.
She swallowed past the aching lump in her throat. Focused on changing the direction of these probing questions. Then stunned herself with her next words.
‘My grandmother gave me my love of fashion.’
She felt his ferocious focus then, a laser beam drilling into her. She kept her gaze forward, so she wouldn’t be completely annihilated by this perilous path she couldn’t seem to abandon.
From the corner of her eye, she saw his nod. ‘I’ve seen some of her old sketches among yours.’
She started. She hadn’t gone out of her way to hide them, thinking he wouldn’t care. That he was too self-absorbed to pay attention to anything that didn’t directly involve his two passions of sex and fashion.
‘I thought they were yours until I saw the dates on some of them. She was clearly talented.’
Completely floored, she forgot her vow to avoid looking at him and met his sizzling gaze. There was no trace of mockery or amusement.
‘She was also very beautiful. She came from a line of beautiful women.’ She paused, remembering the brief but significant moments when herjidahad revisited her own painful past. The raw anguish of her plea for history not to be repeated.‘Unfortunately, she also came from a line of women who’d been betrayed by men.’
He stiffened, his lips flattening in a displeased line. But he said nothing, his sheer force of will prompting her to continue.
‘My grandfather was like you. A shameless Casanova.’
She heard his sharp intake of breath but didn’t glance at him. If he was offended by the truth, she wasn’t here to spare his blushes.
‘He left her at the altar, pregnant and alone. Then had the gall to make an appearance years later with a proposition for her to live in luxury…as his mistress. She cut off all contact with him and moved to this house with my mother. Then she felt like she was reliving her worst nightmare when my mother fell into a similar trap.’ She ventured a glance at him, saw his tight jaw, the incensed expression and told herself she didn’t…couldn’t care whether it was on behalf of the women she’d cared deeply about or not. Redirecting her gaze to the moonlit sea, she continued. ‘Do you see where I’m going with this, Teo?’
‘The tapestry is becoming clear,sí,’ he drawled. ‘Where’s your mother?’
The vice tightened around her heart. ‘She emigrated to India a decade ago. We talk often, but I don’t see her as much as I’d like.’
He nodded then waited, silently compelling her for more.
‘I think she moved away to escape the judgement of falling short of my grandmother’s expectations of her.’
‘Which were?’
Feeling too agitated to remain still, she moved to the far side of the low stone wall and leaned her arms over it. The sun-warmed stone offered temporary comfort and a reprieve, but Sabeen was acutely aware he watched her every move.
The short sundress she’d put on after her shower was entirely see-through, and her body was on show. It was a good thing,then, that physical nudity wasn’t what bothered her. It was the inability to stop baring her soul that disturbed her the most. Yet she stifled the urge to run and hide. Or better yet, to boldly state that she had no intention of further exposing herself to his idle curiosity.
She did none of those things in the end.
Because it seemed no amount of jaw-clenching or internal stern talking-to was enough to stop the words from spilling out, independent of her will.
‘Which were that she was never to put her trust in a man. Never hand over control of her emotions in the belief that she’d fallen in love. And, at all costs, never hand over her agency for the sake of pleasing a man. My mother failed on all those counts. She returned home with me, broken. She loved me, but I grew up watching their love-hate relationship turn increasingly sour because my grandmother, despite loving her daughter, was reliving the worst period of her life, while my mother blamed her for what she believed was an emotional flaw passed on by genes and beauty, compounded by myjida’s threat of withdrawal of support if she so much as looked at my father ever again. A father who also happened to be a Lothario himself.’
When she was done, she turned, leaned her hip against the cool wall to see him better. Just in time to see a curious expression being wiped off his face. Her belly clenched. Surely that hadn’t been…hurt?
She attempted to probe deeper, chasing after the expression, only to watch him lift his molten silver gaze, as if almost daring her to believe such an emotion would floor him.
