3
“We’re not supposed to be here, Kurt!” Only Mira’s eyes showed through the narrow slit of the niqab headpiece she’d worn as we worked our way across Riyadh looking like any other Arab couple.
“Then leave.” It came out harsher than I intended, but I was feeling the pressure too. “Sorry.” The “home” we were surveying would have been a mansion in Los Angeles, a damned big one. Here it was called a palace but that didn’t make it any smaller.
I could tell by the narrowing of her eyes that Mira was scowling at me, which I ignored just as I had been for the other fifty times she’d said it since last night. Though once she’d read the file there hadn’t been any question of not going in together.
Something about complaining always made her feel like she was in control whenever the situation wa
