A Family Affair by Fern Michaels Read Free Book Online Page B

released her, stepped back, and looked at her with such burning intensity, Trish was mesmerized. “It is so good to see you again, Trish. I am so happy, as is my sister, that you agreed to accept my invitation to visit us here in Dubai. I hope everything is to your satisfaction.”
    “Oh, it is. It is. It was so kind of you to invite me. I can’t wait to see your world.”
    “Come, come. We must sit and talk. You must tell me how things are back in Las Vegas, the city that never sleeps and has no clocks.”
    Trish didn’t realize until that moment that Malik was holding her hand. It felt cool and dry, whereas hers felt like a hot rock. He squeezed her hand just before he motioned for her to sit in one of the deep, comfortable chairs in a small seating arrangement.
    “It’s different in here,” Trish blurted as she looked around.
    There was no gold or gilt here. What she was seeing could pass for a bachelor pad back in the States. Or an elevated dorm room. The room they were sitting in had the same kind of comfortable furniture she had back in Vegas. There were ordinary carpets on the floor, cone-shaped floor lamps, end tables with pictures of young American guys, probably friends from college. Green plants dotted the corners and looked healthy and lush. Huge pictures of the ocean, with giant waves crashing on shorelines, hung on the walls. Plantation shutters, a product of the South, covered the windows. Paddle fans hung from the ceiling and whirred softly. Bookshelves lined the far wall and were crammed with books of every size and description. A humongous television that looked to be at least a hundred inches was directly across from the seating area, along with a stereo system.
    Beyond the sitting room was a small kitchen with stainless-steel appliances and four stools resting under the counter. Beyond the immediate kitchen was a bit of a dining room with a round table holding a bowl of fruit and four chairs with padded covers. Cozy. A carryover from Malik’s days in the States, which he wasn’t ready to let go of. Trish felt sad that in this mind-boggling building of gold and wealth, this little area was Malik’s personal oasis. There was no need to see the bedroom or bath. She could envision them with her eyes closed.
    Malik laughed, his eyes lighting with mirth. “I rather thought you would like it. My sister thinks it is horrible. She said she could never live in such . . . I believe the word she used was squalor. ”
    “Stop it, Malik. He loves to tease. What I said was, it was much too small for me. As long as he can drink his American beer and toast hot dogs, my brother is happy. Rashid, too. Both of them are incorrigible.”
    Trish winked at Malik. “I love hot dogs with the works and good cold beer. I swig from the bottle, do you?”
    Malik burst out laughing, then couldn’t stop at the expression on his sister’s face. “I told you she would love dinner this evening! I’m making it myself. By ‘the works,’ I assume you mean chili, sauerkraut, onions, mustard, and ketchup?”
    Trish was giggling now, too. “That’s the only way to eat them. Especially at the ballpark. I hope you have bibs! I dribble.”
    Malik continued to laugh, slapping his thigh over and over. “I do, too. I just use a dish towel.”
    “That’ll work for me.” Trish continued to giggle. “What’s your feeling about ramen noodles?”
    “Ate them three times a week with my friends. We bought them by the case. That way we had more money to spend on beer.”
    “You are hopeless, Malik. Our father must be turning over in his grave at the way you turned out. What is Trish going to think?”
    Without any prompting, Trish spoke up. “I like it. Everyone I know acts like Malik. It’s like meeting my friends all over again. I guess you don’t like hot dogs or beer, huh?”
    “You know what, Trish? She does. She just won’t admit it. She’s as stubborn as a mule. The last time I made them, she ate three of them and