Sweet Revenge Read Free Page B

Even so, out of Muslim pride, he had decreed that his daughter be given a proper Arabic name. Therefore, on all official documents “Adrianne” was recorded as Ad Riyahd An, followed by a slew of Abdu’s family names. Phoebe repeated the nickname now and asked, “Don’t you like your presents?”
    “I like them very much.” Adrianne was wearing her new dress, but it no longer pleased her. In the mirror she could see her mother’s face behind her own. Phoebe had carefully covered the bruise with makeup, but Adrianne saw the shadow of it.
    “You look beautiful.” Phoebe turned her around to hold her. On another day Adrianne might not have noticed how tightly she was held, might not have recognized the notes of desperation in her mother’s voice. “My own little princess. I love you so much, Addy. More than anything in the world.”
    She smelled like flowers, like the warm, rich flowers in the garden just outside. Adrianne drew in her mother’s scent as she pressed her face to her breasts. She kissed them,remembering how cruelly her father had handled them the night before.
    “You won’t go away? You won’t leave me?”
    “Where would you get such an idea?” With a half laugh Phoebe pushed her an arm’s length away to look at her. When she saw the tears, her laughter stopped. “Oh, baby, what’s all this?”
    Miserably, Adrianne dropped her head on Phoebe’s shoulder. “I dreamed he sent you away. That you left and I never saw you again.”
    Phoebe’s hand hesitated, then continued to stroke. “Just a dream, baby. I’ll never leave you.”
    Adrianne crawled onto her mother’s lap, content to be rocked and soothed. Through the latticework at the windows, fingers of scented sunlight pushed across the room and into the pattern on the rug. “If I had been a boy, he would love us.”
    Anger filled her so quickly, Phoebe could taste it on her tongue. Almost immediately, it turned to despair. But she was still an actress. If she could use her talent for nothing else, she could use it to protect what was hers. “What silly talk, and on your birthday. What fun is a little boy? They don’t wear pretty dresses.”
    Adrianne giggled at that and snuggled closer. “If I put a dress on Fahid, he would look like a doll.”
    Phoebe pressed her lips together and tried to ignore the flash of pain. Fahid. The son Abdu’s second wife had borne after she had failed. Not failed, she told herself. She was beginning to think like a Muslim woman. How could she have failed when she had a beautiful child in her arms?
    You gave me nothing. A girl. Less than nothing.
    Everything, Phoebe thought savagely. I gave you everything.
    “Mama?”
    “I was thinking.” Phoebe smiled as she slid Adrianne from her lap. “I was thinking that you need one more present. A secret one.”
    “A secret?” Adrianne clapped her hands together, tears forgotten.
    “Sit, and close your eyes.”
    Delighted, Adrianne obeyed, squirming in the chair asshe tried to be patient. Phoebe had hidden the little glass ball between layers of clothing. It hadn’t been easy to smuggle it into the country, but she was learning to be inventive. The pills had been difficult as well, the small pink pills that made it possible for her to get through each day. They numbed the pain and eased the heart. Woman’s best friend. God knew, in this country a woman needed any friend she could make. If the pills were found, she could face public execution. If she didn’t have them, she wasn’t sure she could survive.
    A vicious cycle. The only thing pulling her around it was Adrianne.
    “Here you are.” Phoebe knelt by the chair. The child wore a chain of sapphires around her neck and glittering studs in her ears. Phoebe thought, hoped, the small gift she gave Adrianne now would mean more. “Open your eyes.”
    It was a simple thing, almost ridiculously simple. For a few dollars it could be bought in thousands of stores in the States during the holidays. Adrianne’s