by Amber Bardan
They dedicated the entire program not just a segment to Haithem.
Everyone thinks he’s so fascinating. They’re right, but they have no idea. Not really.
She stops in front of a sprawling property with enormous gates.
“When I first sat down with Haithem, of course I was struck by his looks, and then by his presence, which is something you have to experience to understand—”
She brushes her forehead again but this time there’s nothing there.
“I expected to meet a world-leading inventor. A man who speaks an impressive five languages—a genius.”
She holds out her hands.
I wiggle back into the sofa. I bet a few million more people just joined his Facebook fan group right now. Yeah, he has one. Someone started it a few days ago. It’s up to the kind of subscribership that has points and letters in the number of members’ counter. I haven’t quite got to the point of joining just yet. Maybe one day I will. Maybe one day I’ll be just another admirer.
“What I didn’t expect to discover was the man at the heart of it all—”
I sit forward. Her voice is way too dreamy for my liking. Especially since she gets to be there in Cairo while I get to be here on the sofa. I tug my pink robe tighter.
“A man who’s been through hell and back, only to make it out the other side, not only triumphant, but with the humility to admit he’s made mistakes along the way.”
I take a breath, crossing my arms under my chest.
The reporter (her name is Jessica apparently) extends her hand to the gates. “So tonight, we’re going back to where it all started. To where, what our own Prime Minster has called ‘the most significant technological development of our times,’ was conceived.”
Jessica pushes open the gates, and walks down a winding driveway to stand in front of a cream-rendered mansion surrounded by lush gardens. Light bounces off the walls. Something I’d expect to see in Europe. The camera swings to a white-and-gold staircase. Haithem appears in the archway at the top of the stairs. Not wearing his jacket. The top button hangs open on his shirt. He runs a hand through his hair, ruffling its perfection.
My fingers tingle.
Somewhere in a studio, I envision this scene appearing in Disney’s next classic. Let’s face it, all that needs to happen now is for a stallion to come galloping to his whistle and they can cut to a break. Let the ladies swoon while advertisements convince them if they just wear this perfume, or that mascara, a man like him might fall for them.
A lot of perfume will sell tonight I’m sure.
They don’t know though, that the only aphrodisiac this man requires is the scent of the sweat he draws out of my skin in his bed.
I reach for the cola and take a tiny sip. The added predicament of my impending menstrual cycle on my mood considered, I probably should have gone for herbal tea.
“How difficult has it been for you to come back here?”
My gaze snaps back to the television.
Haithem stands beside Jessica and glances at the house. “Extremely.”
His parents’ house.
I sit a little straighter. His home. A place I’ve pictured a hundred times as I’ve tried to understand who and how he is.
“How long has it been since you’ve been here, Haithem?”
They ascend the stairs.
“Five and a half years,” he says.
They reach the front door.
“Why so long?”
He opens the door and smiles, but it’s his lifeless smile. “That’s not really what you want to know.” He steps inside and holds open the door. “What you really want to know is about the device that changed the world.”
All right, I’ll admit it. This is good-freaking-television. He not only looks damn good on the screen, he tells an entertaining story. I’m surprised the channel’s not flickering from the influx of ratings. He takes the cameras around the home lab. Shows off the equipment and makes even science sound fascinating, and of course gives all the credit, all of it, to his father.
“I have something very special to show you today, Jessica.”
Her face lights up.
Seriously, Jessica?
She and I are already not on such great terms, what with the way she keeps touching him. Fingers on his elbow here, brushing his shoulder there.
Haithem rounds the bench and takes something out of his pocket about the size of a matchbox. He holds it out to her.
She takes the object and turns it around in her hand. “A new invention?”
“An adaptation of an old one. You’re holding the prototype for the first automotive Guardian Cell.”
Her lips part and she turns it over in her hand. “You mean this would replace the battery in a car?”
“Not simply the battery, also the fuel.”
She looks at Haithem. “Essentially what you’re saying is you’re about to clean up what is left of the oil industry—shouldn’t something like this be kept under wraps?”
Haithem takes a breath, lifting his chin. “Unlike the electricity cell, this transition will not happen overnight. I’ve secured contracts with most major automotive companies, but unless a vehicle is manufactured with a cell, it will require conversion. Not a cheap process. So, this will be a gradual transition away from petroleum.”
Jessica holds the cell between two fingers. “But, I’d imagine there are still a lot of people who are not going to be happy about this?”
Her brows lift. She’s fishing.
“You’d imagine correctly, Jessica,” Haithem says. His eyes get darker, but he volunteers nothing.
She holds the cell a little higher under the light. “Yet, you’re broadcasting the device for the world to see. Isn’t that a dangerous thing to do?”
What the hell is he doing? My shoulder muscles twitch. He’s exposing himself. I almost want to cover my eyes. Turn the television off. Stop him from proving the point he’s trying to make.
“I’m done with secrets and living in the dark.” Haithem steps forward directly under the hanging light, then holds out his hand. Jessica gives back the cell. He slips it into his shirt pocket. “It’s time for everything to come into the open. It’s too late to stop this. No matter what anyone attempts to do, the demise of oil is still going to become a reality. Now at least whatever happens, it’ll happen in the eyes of a knowing and informed public.”
Jessica places a hand on her chest. “And that’s a real possibility isn’t it? Something happening to you?”
His teeth snap together. “Yes.”
“Because your parents were murdered in this very house, weren’t they?”
His face shuts down. A blankness I know as agony. I bite my lip as his expression strikes me. Even through a screen, across continents, I’m susceptible to his pain. I slide off the sofa and shuffle towards the television, crossing my legs in front of it.
The camera focuses in on his face, honing in on the hurt. His teeth show through pinched lips.
I lean towards the television, but the screen changes, fades and cuts to an ad break. I fall back on my heels. Sit there, frozen in my almost Lotus Pose. What’s happening? I can’t believe he’s answering so much. I swallow, the aftertaste of my cola gone from sweet to bitter in my mouth.
The network makes the most of the programming and ratings I’m sure are breaking records. I struggle to breathe through endless advertisements. My knee bounces under my hand. The show resumes and I release a drawn out breath. They enter a lounge fit for a magazine cover—everything shades of cream and white, which altogether make up a rainbow of neutral. Jessica walks to a massive timber mantel, and touches a photo frame. “These are your parents?”
Haithem nods, running his thumb under his chin.
She moves the photo towards h
im. “Your mother, what was her name?”
“Leila.” Haithem takes the photo from her hands, and stares at it.
“Can you tell us what happened the night your father made the mistake of sharing news of the energy cell breakthrough?”
He doesn’t move for a long moment, his fingers shift on both sides of the frame. “They came in the back door...”
My heart sinks. My blood slows. The program seems to move at half-speed, as Haithem shows Jessica through the house. Points to places where when he’d returned home, disbelieving, he faced a home still sprayed in blood. He shows her the basement, the steep stairs down to where they were found. His face is blank, but so white. Tears soak not only my cheeks but my neck and collarbone. I’ve never seen Haithem pale. He’s pale now. Completely drawn. They greedily capture every moment on their cameras. I press my hand to the screen over his face, before his image fades.
I sniff, and wipe my face in the crook of my arm while my chest shudders. I knew his parents had been killed, but there’s a world of difference between knowing, and experiencing. Facing what he must have faced.
I fall back on the carpet, and lay down. Understanding blasts through me—why he’s been so paranoid. Why he could do what he did to me. I turn my head. They advertisements still play.
Ads, fucking ads.
I’m going to die during these ads. I cover my face with my hands. Breathe through the gap in my palms. The sound of Jessica’s voice reaches me, and I spring upright and kneel as close as I can to the screen. They aren’t at his house anymore. They’re in a studio somewhere. I don’t think this was filmed on the same day. Now he’s at his most dapper. He’s gone for his irresistible all-black look. Shirt and suit and tie, except this time there’s a splash of color with a red handkerchief folded into his breast pocket. He looks like power—he looks like sin.
They’re breaking the tension with small talk. She’s flirting. This is the part I saw on the promo. Now it doesn’t enrage me. I’m still swallowing stones from before the ad break.
“There’s no denying you’ve captured the attention and imagination of ladies around the globe. How does it feel to be referred to as the world’s most desirable bachelor?”
Haithem laughs, and scoots forward, but unlike the promo this time we get his answer. “It feels...grossly inaccurate. I’m no bachelor.”
Jessica’s eyes stretch. “There’s a Mrs. Soltan?”
I hold my breath, pulse racing under my skin.
“There will be if I can convince her to have me.”
My heart doesn’t slow, just skips a beat.
“I find it hard to believe a woman could be capable of resisting you?”
Haithem lowers his voice as though he’s telling a secret. “Then you underestimate what a jackass I can be.”
Jessica stifles a giggle. “Can you at least tell us what happened to make a woman let go of someone like you?”
“That’s between she and I, Jessica.”
She wants to pry, it’s there in the purse of her lips. Instead she takes a deep breath. “Would you share then, the impact your parents’ passing has had on you?”
Haithem doesn’t move. His eyes narrow a fraction, and his gaze falls down. “That’s not something I’ve analyzed.” He looks at Jessica from under a frown, as though he’s confessing a sin. “I simply reacted and attempted to ensure it wasn’t for nothing. Then tried to prevent anything like that from happening again.”
“Did that work?
He nods. “Sure, at first.”
“Then what happened?”
The camera swings wide, then narrows in on Haithem, focusing on the way his jaw works in the corners. I swallow. He won’t answer this. He’s already strayed so far out of his comfort zone he’ll have to charter a plane to get back to himself.
“I grew complacent, arrogant maybe, after five years things started to feel safe and I took risks...” He rubs his hand over his mouth. “I never meant to draw someone into my life.”
Oh god, he’s going to talk about us. He can’t. I press a hand to my chest, then glance around for my phone. Shit. This would be prerecorded. It’s too late to warn him he doesn’t need to do this.
The television flicks back to Jessica.
She shifts forward. “But someone did, didn’t they? Someone got drawn in?”
His head snaps up, his gaze becomes focused. He’s back to himself.
Thank god.
His next words are careful. “Only as far as I’d let them.”
I breathe out.
“I thought that if you can’t protect the people you love—then nothing else matters. That nothing is as important as survival.”
“And now?” Jessica asks.
“Now I think that surviving is not enough.” His brows lift, he’s not quite smiling, but his expression opens. “That if we’re not living, then there’s no point existing.”
I sit back on my heels, a gray haze in my vision blurs the screen.
Could he mean that?
“Sometimes it takes losing what you most value to understand the value of everything.”
My head spins. The entire room does. If I were outside, then the world would too.
The segment finishes on those words. A background track takes the program back to the studio desk, where Jessica wraps up with commentary. I turn off the television, and stare at the black plasma as though it might provide me with that extra something I need to process.
Then, suddenly, all the pieces collide.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I dive for the cell phone still resting on the arm of the sofa, roll back onto the floor and punch in the number. The line rings. Rings, and rings. I run my fingers through my hair, squeeze my hand closed at the back where it’s still damp. The line clicks and the ringing stops.
The line goes dead.
I pull the phone from my ear and stare at the screen. Perhaps I dialed it wrong? I close my eyes and repeat the number still embedded in my memory after all these months, then open my eyes and type that number in again, one finger, and one digit at a time. Then I scan each number, reading the whole thing back aloud before touching the pad of my index finger to the call button, and bringing the phone up to my ear. It rings. I shut my eyes once more and breathe, listen.
Ring, ring, ring.
The line drops out, and something in my chest drops too. I set the phone down on the carpet next to my thigh, then leap to my feet, and run to the bedroom. The door bounces off the wall with a shudder. I drop down in front of the bedside table, pull out the entire drawer and dump the contents onto the floor. I push aside junk, and find a flash of gold.
I hold the watch I somehow brought myself to remove.
“No matter what happens, no matter where you are, you press this and I’ll be there for you.”
I stroke my thumb over the watch face. Would this still work? A rap sounds on the front door reaching into my bedroom. I slide the watch into my pocket and tighten the robe, and stride to the front door.
Whoever it is, they’ll have to come back later.
I turn the key and then the handle, leaving the newly installed chain in place, and yank the door open a crack.
Haithem fills the gap in the doorway. I slam the door shut, slide the chain free, then throw the door wide. He steps inside. The door swings closed behind him. I back up, not sure what to say or where to stand. He approaches me. As fit as he is, he’s panting. Moisture beads his nose and coats his forehead, and has the hair at his hairline curling.
He’s been running.
My gaze sucks him in. No jacket, sleeves pushed up. His clothes are wrinkled and he’s fresh off a plane if I’m not wrong.
“There’s something I couldn’t say on the interview,” he puffs out.
He k
nows I watched, but then, the whole world’s been watching.
“Something you need to hear in person.” He wipes his forehead on the back of his hand, then sets the entire magnificence of his gaze on me.
“I can let you go if you ask me to,” he says. “But I’ll never give up. I’ll work forever if that’s how long it takes to figure this out.” He reaches for me but I can’t back away. He takes my hand, pushing it against his chest. “I gave this to you, and I don’t know how to take it back.” His heart hammers against my palm. I feel every rapid beat. “I can’t change who I was, or what I’ve done, but I can give you who you’ve helped me become.”
I watch every movement of his lips.
“So tell me, Angel, will you have me?”
I stare into the deep dark depth of his eyes. Then reach my free hand into my pocket, close my hand around the cool gold watch, and find the switch, squeezing it between my fingers.
Next to my hand, his pocket vibrates, then a sharp ring echoes through the room. A look comes over him. He glances at the hand pushed into the pocket of my robe. There must be a ringtone reserved for me.
“I’ll take your forever,” I say, then pull the watch from my robe and slide it into his breast pocket next to his cell phone. “But we’ll be working at it together.”
He sweeps me off my feet—literally lifting me off the ground and I never want to land again. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.
My robe parts, reminding me that I’m mostly nude. We kiss. I slide my fingers into the back of his hair, gripping it between my knuckles. I melt like ice over the heat of him. His mouth shifts against mine, just a stir of motion—like he’s drinking the puddle that is me. He carries me to the bedroom, lays me down. Peels open my robe as though unveiling the jackpot of all prizes. His movements slow, satin slides over my skin, yet it’s the caress of his gaze that has me moaning.
