Shadow of Love (7 page)

Because, not in a hundred years should he find out what happened on that cold November day twelve years ago, almost to the date. Never could he realize what, or rather who, made her stepfather desperate enough to pull the trigger in order to escape his miserable existence.

She looked up and saw Sophie coming back, a brilliant smile on her face. For the sake of her happiness, Emily had to pull herself together, silencing her conscience that was screaming that Sophie didn’t deserve love or hope for a wonderful future with the man she loved. Because when the walls of denial Emily had built around herself over the years crumbled under the assault of memories, there was no hiding from the truth peeking at her accusingly through the rubble.

Sophie killed their stepfather, even though her finger never as much as came close to the gun that he used in the effort to kill himself on that cold, dreary day. And even though he survived for another few weeks— the intensive care unit his home until his heart and brain finally gave up their fight—it was Sophie who guided him into the hell that had become his reality.

However hard she struggled to cover up this fact, Emily could not escape what she knew and had to live with for the rest of her life—she had been an accomplice in crime, even though there was nothing linking either her or her sister to the horrible events that shook their house on that fateful day.

She remembered.

James McMaster knew enough about people to read her face like an open book. Everything in her expressive features gave her away as he surveyed her pale cheeks, clouded eyes, and a mouth that trembled as if she were on the verge of tears. She looked absolutely shocked by his little innocent remark, confirming his suspicion that behind the serene smile and face of a Botticelli angel was a whole lot more, ready to be exposed. He had to be patient though, her response an indicator of the thin ice on which he was moving. He couldn’t scare her off, however tempting it was to push her even further. But he was in no rush. He had been waiting for that moment long enough to make sure he didn’t compromise even the slightest detail of his elaborate plan.

He wasn’t a vengeful person, he thought as he watched Sophie approach them, her shapely body caressed by the perfectly fitting dress like the hand of a patient lover. He smiled at her, an automatic response of his brain while the rest of him remained absolutely cold. She was gorgeous; there was absolutely no doubt about it. From the tip of her elegant little nose to the slender toes peeping out of her silver strap sandals, she embodied every man’s dream of a perfect woman. Every man’s but his, the bitter taste of resentment making it hard to appear as cheerful and involved as he knew he had to be.

Maybe, just maybe, the words of his late father were true. His late father, whom he had never met in person and only knew from the letter that came with the will making him the only heir to an empire of various enterprises. He still had the letter, glad that he had resisted his first impulse to tear it into a thousand pieces and never as much as glance at the handwriting of the man who had seduced his mother and left her alone to raise his child after deeming her unsuitable to marry into his family.

It had not been his decision to make, he had to give him that. Omar bin Alharr, the only son of one of the wealthiest businessmen in Egypt, had his entire future planned out ahead of him from the moment he was conceived under the hot, Egyptian sun. The sixth child of his father and his wife whose bloodline traced back to the Bedouins still roaming the vast expanse of the Sahara desert, he was the first son. As such, the amount of hope and expectations that his overjoyed family put into his future was tremendous and unimaginable to anyone unfamiliar with the traditional way of life behind the thick, white walls of the mansion on the outskirts of Cairo.

Omar was brought up almost like a prince, only the best of the best good enough to satisfy his father. After finishing his education in a private gymnasium run by the best French and English teachers in Switzerland, his parents decided to give him the gift of obtaining one of the best possible degrees in Europe, sending him to Oxford to finish his law studies. After all, his father was hoping for him to join him in his business, impatient to introduce the young and undoubtedly brilliant man to his board of directors.

The stay in England came with the usual level of comfort the young man was used to from early on—a private penthouse and a personal servant, together with the newest model of a sporty Mercedes, were only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the privileges Omar was enjoying in his four-year pursuit of perfection. His never-ending flow of cash allowed him not only to live his life to the fullest while studying, but it also paid for his trips to London, a place that charmed the young man with its metropolitan glamour and beauty from the first moment he had set his foot on its rain-splattered pavement.

Still, unlike many other young men who had been sent by their affluent families to soak up western knowledge and culture before returning to their homeland, Omar was not interested in the shallow pleasures of clubbing or partying with many of the willing women who crossed his path. Quite serious and surprisingly shy, he barely ever ventured to any of the numerous bars and nightclubs, preferring to spend his time exploring the city and studying in the safety of his four walls.

On one of those rare occasions when his friends actually managed to persuade him to join them, the unimaginable happened. Lives of many people were changed forever when Omar fell in love with the waitress, a slim redhead with a freckly nose and eyes as green as the grass of the British Isles.

She had been studying art at the Sheridan College, her meager income supplemented by her nighttime job waiting tables at the bar downtown. They talked all night, long after all the rest of the party left for another destination, and he found himself meeting her over and over again, ignoring the inner voice that kept reminding him of the futility of their relationship. Violet was definitely not someone his parents would accept into their hearts and their lives, her independence, outspokenness, and humble pedigree making it impossible for them to see her as anything more than a passing fling any young man away from home could enjoy.

Omar tried to mention her to his family on numerous occasions, hoping against all hope that he would be able to make them understand how much more she meant to him than just a convenient lover. His hopes have been dashed, however, when he received a phone call informing him about the bride his father had chosen for him after his return from Europe. Furious and ready to break his ties with his family, Omar left for home, promising Violet to return as soon as he made it clear to his father that the only way to keep their family intact was to accept the woman he loved and intended to marry.

Arriving on the hot Egyptian soil, he was greeted by his grieving relatives, a cardiac arrest claiming his father’s life barely a few hours after they had spoken on the phone. Listening to his mother and sisters wailing, Omar didn’t have the heart to bring up the main reason for his visit. It could wait, he told himself as he prepared his father’s funeral and contacted his attorney. Once he would settle the matters that affected his family, he could plead his cause and hope for their understanding.

But things had gone terribly wrong, the meeting with his father’s lawyers only the beginning of the avalanche of disasters that started to pull him under, each and every new detail about his family’s affairs and standing another blow to his dazed mind. They were almost broke, nothing but their pedigree and impressive history left to allow them to keep their pride. In all those years Omar had spent abroad living the life of a prince, he had not the tiniest inkling of the secrets his father had buried, not only from him but also from the rest of the family. Bad investments and mistakes in handling his properties had drained their bank accounts, the shrinking savings painting a scary future for his mother and sisters who relied on the male family members to provide an appropriate lifestyle.

The talk with his father’s lawyer shed some light on the marriage his father had planned for him in the near future. Omar found himself nothing more than a bought groom for a wealthy family that agreed to lend his father a helping hand in his business in return for his social standing and blue blood.

Aisha’s family had everything that was obtainable by hard work and a healthy dose of good luck. Starting out humble, her father and brothers managed to build an empire of real estate and hotels all over the world. The only obstacle that couldn’t be pushed aside in their otherwise triumphant march towards wealth and social acceptance in the highest circles of society was the fact that they started out in the slums of Cairo, and no one would allow them to forget that fact for as long as they lived. Proud, bitter, and disillusioned, Aisha’s family was only too happy to strike a deal with Omar’s ailing father, the marriage a perfect solution to the woes of both clans.

He didn’t want any of that. As much as it would be difficult to get used to being a regular person without servants, limos, and luxurious homes, Omar was more than willing to sacrifice it all in the name of his love for Violet, who was waiting for his return to London. He had a good solid education, and it would be more than enough to start a new chapter of his life with his love at his side. He kept yelling it at the lawyer, louder and louder, as he realized deep down that he was fighting a tide that would push him along anyway, dragging him back to the bottomless ocean of misery battered, bruised, and unable to fight back any longer.

His life and choices weren’t his alone. His mother and his sisters relied on him taking the place of their father. As the only male relative, he was responsible for their well-being and future. Only one of his sisters was already married and safe with her husband. Two of his sisters were engaged, and he had to listen to their sobs as they worried about the engagements being broken off after the families realized the trouble they were in. Their futures would be ruined, they cried miserably, the shame of their family putting an end to any chance of them finding a suitor ever again.

He tried to ignore them, knowing that his own fate had been sealed, his fight to remain independent and in charge of his life akin to that of a flapping fish pulled out of water by a fisherman and jumping on the bottom of the boat without any chance of escape. He might struggle, but he wouldn’t win. Centuries of tradition that commanded him to take care of his relatives had put an end to any hopes for his personal happiness.

The letter that Violet had received was short and to the point. She had to read it three times before it sank in, her hands shaking as she held the crisp white page with Omar’s almost calligraphy-perfect writing. He wasn’t going to return to England any time soon, and he hoped that she understood the impossibility of continuing their love affair. He was going to marry someone else, and even though he knew how unexpected and hurtful it must have felt at the moment, he hoped she would forgive him and move on with her life without him. There wasn’t much more there, just a few lines about his best wishes for her future endeavors, reducing all they had to nothing more than a meaningless fling that had reached its final stage.

She didn’t believe him at first. It was only a few days before that he had kissed her and sworn to love her forever, his soft, slightly accented voice painting a promising picture of their future together. She tried to move heaven and earth to reach him, her calls unreturned and letters sent back, one after another. After three months of struggle, Violet had considered spending all her savings on a ticket to Egypt and a hotel stay there for as long as it would take to finally break through the wall of silence that separated her from her lover.

The only thing hindering her from doing exactly that was her pregnancy, something she had definitely never planned and found impossible to believe. She was on the pill, after all. Both she and Omar were convinced that if they ever wanted to win his family’s approval, an early start on parenthood before getting married was a definite no. And yet she was pregnant, the stress of the last few months putting immense pressure on her already exhausted body.

Suffering from acute morning sickness, Violet found herself in the hospital, hooked to an IV that delivered much-needed nutrition to a rebellious body that seemed to fight the miracle of new life with all its might. From her hospital bed she wrote letter after letter, undeterred by Omar’s silence. He needed to know he was going to be a father, even if it would not change his resolve to sever his ties to her and the life they had planned together. Resigned and accepting the fact that their love affair was over, she wanted to make sure he was aware of what he was giving up. Her single motherhood became more and more of a reality as days went by, and no response from Omar arrived.

Violet’s mother, divorced and bitter, made it clear that she rejected her daughter’s absurd wish to keep the baby when her advice about an abortion fell on deaf ears. In the end, she returned to her tiny house in Wales, washing her hands of anything to do with the complication of Violet’s otherwise promising future. If her daughter wanted to struggle with the child of a man who wasn’t even acknowledging its existence, so be it.

Even now, at the age of thirty-four, James felt the familiar wave of anger wash over him as he thought about his maternal grandmother, a shadowy figure that he had met only once, at his aunt’s funeral. His mother was his only family, her hard work and never-ending support keeping him afloat during all those years growing up in the rough neighborhoods where his mother was able to afford the rent.