Pursued by the Desert Prince (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Sauveterre Siblings, Book 1)

by Dani Collins

  She cleared her throat, obviously struggling.

  “My father had to use that circus to our advantage. I looked just like Trella so they used me as Trella’s face, to plea for her return. Any tiny thing could have been the key to getting her back. It was horrible exploitation. He hated himself for doing it to me, but when you’re desperate...”

  Her eyes filled and she pulled her hand out of his to press the knot of her fist between her breasts.

  “All the while... The connection between twins is a real thing, Kasim. It is for Trella and me. I knew she was terrified and suffering. It was unbearable. And then she came back to us so broken and I felt that, too.” Her lips quivered.

  He had to enfold her in his arms. Had to.

  She shook like a tiny animal that had barely escaped certain death.

  “She’s safe now, hmm?” he coaxed gently into her hair. “Come back, Angelique. That was a long time ago and she’s safe. You’re both safe now.”

  She nodded and sniffed once, but he could feel the shudders of dark memory running through her. Her arms went around his waist, beneath his open shirt. The beadwork on her dress abraded his bare skin. He stroked her hair, imparting as much comfort as he could, rubbing his chin against her temple.

  “You’re afraid to leave her alone, in case something happens again,” he surmised.

  “I’m afraid all the time of everything.” Her cheek was damp where she pressed it to his chest. “That’s who I am, Kasim. I’m the worrier. I’m the introvert. But I had to become the strong one. The only way I’ve ever been able to do that—God, the only way I could find the courage to stand in front of cameras and beg for her return was to pretend I was her. I had to become her in some ways. How could I ever go back to being quiet, shy Angelique who leaned on her sister for confidence? My support was shattered. She needed me to be that person.”

  She wiped at her cheek and settled against him again.

  “We should be two carefree young women, but she was cheated. I know she would have risen to the challenge if it had been me so I have to do that for her. Everything I do is for both of us. Sometimes I feel like I am her and I don’t know how to be just me.”

  Her odd comment at dinner about being each other, which he had thought was a bit of twin peculiarity, now made more sense. So did the one about her not letting herself “be.”

  “Who were you tonight?” he asked, cupping the side of her neck, invaded by a prickling tension as he urged her to look up at him.

  She drew back, but her gaze stayed on her own fingertips as she smoothed the hairs down his breastbone in a petting caress that made shivers of delight travel up his spine.

  “I stole tonight for myself.”

  “Good. That is the correct answer.”

  She tsked and gave him a little shove. He only settled her closer, pleased when she relaxed and rested her head against his shoulder again, arms looped around his waist.

  “But I can’t be selfish and take what I want. I can’t do that to Trella. Do you understand?”

  “You know you cannot live someone else’s life for them, don’t you?” How many times had he tried to solve Jamal’s “problem” to no avail? “You cannot shelter someone forever. It’s not fair to either of you. We are each responsible for our own lives.”

  “I know,” she murmured. “Separating my life from my sister’s has to happen. We both know that. But I can’t force that on her and I certainly won’t let you force it. And the truth is...” She tilted back her head to look up at him with a solemn expression. “I am not impulsive. I am a thinker. If you want Angelique to go anywhere with you, you have to give Angelique time to put it all together in her pretty little head.”

  He pondered that, distantly aware he didn’t have much time. His father was already talking about finding him a bride as soon as Hasna’s wedding was out of the way.

  “How much time do you need? I was going to leave first thing in the morning and it’s already...” He looked around and swore lightly. “There are no such things as clocks anymore.”

  Releasing her, he found his cell phone and clicked to see it was nearing midnight. He dropped the phone into his pocket, then left his hand there with it. He raised the other to pinch his bottom lip.

  “I have meetings in the morning. Come later in the day. I’ll make the arrangements.”

  “I can make my own arrangements,” she informed him, but with a rueful purse of her lips. “Which I realize you just heard as agreement.” She sighed and touched her brow. “I could call my mother, see if she feels like spending the night in Paris with Trella. Does anyone ever say no to you, Kasim?”

  “They realize very quickly that it is a waste of both our time. You, apparently, are a slow learner.”

  “Don’t,” she said with a little flinch. “It’s still a sore point for me. I can cut out a perfect square meter of fabric by sight, but ask me to add one half to three quarters and I just embarrass myself. Now I’m going to put on fresh lipstick.” Her hand shook as she picked up the little golden tube and pointed it at him. “Keep your lips to yourself.”

  “Come here first,” he commanded, compelled to reinforce the connection between them.

  She paused in winding up the stick of color, sent him a pert look. “Saying ‘no’ would just be a waste of a layer of lipstick, wouldn’t it?”

  “Look at you. You’re actually very quick to learn.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she came across to kiss him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  IF I NEED YOU, I’ll call.

  Trella’s words dogged Angelique as she stole off to London. They weren’t telling any of the family that Angelique was leaving Trella for a night on her own in Paris. Better to let it be a fait accompli, they decided, given how reluctant their brothers had been to let Trella make the short flight alone.

  Trella had passed her own test “with flying colors,” she had excitedly said about her solitary flight, quite triumphant in her achievement.

  Angelique had been so proud, she’d had a little cry about it, which had made Trella laugh and hug her and call her their sensitive little Gili.

  Nevertheless, Angelique felt guilty for leaving. Trella was very safe. Situated on the top floor of the design house, the Paris flat was ultra-secure. Seamstresses and other staff came and went from the lower floors, working into the night if the mood took, but the flat had its own entrance, a panic room and a private passage to the office.

  Trella had been very heartfelt in her plea for Angelique to do something for herself for a change.

  I’ve held you back too long, Trella had insisted, then added with a sly look, Besides, I’m curious about Henri and Cinnia. See what you can find out.

  Angelique had laughed at that, but if Trella had a setback, she would never forgive herself.

  Deep down, however, she was anxious to see Kasim again. It was a foreign state of mind for her. After Trella’s experience, she’d spent her adolescence wary of boys and sex. When she finally started to date, she had been hard-pressed to find men who measured up to the standards her father and brothers had set. When her suitors had fallen off because her life was too restrictive, or proved to be social climbers or other opportunists, she’d been annoyed and disappointed, but never truly hurt.

  She had never been taken with any man. None had engaged her feelings very deeply and she had never, ever, allowed a man to come between her and her family.

  In some ways, she was terrified of the influence Kasim was having on her. He fascinated her and thus had power over her. He was confident and secure in himself, almost brutally honest, but that lack of subterfuge was as seductive as the rest of him.

  And oh, did he seduce! From a physical standpoint, she was completely infatuated. Her blood raced as she silently willed the driver into London after the family jet landed at the
private airfield.

  She hadn’t given Trella many details about her evening with Kasim, but her sister had said with a sensual lift of her own hair, I know you slept with him. Don’t deny it. I’m kind of jealous, actually. In a good way. It makes me realize what I’m missing.

  That had made Angelique very self-conscious, but she knew Trella was interpreting her body language. They had the same expressions and mannerisms so even though Angelique could disguise her thoughts and feelings from many, her sister would read the indolent stretch or the warmed cheek and soft gaze of pleasant memory without effort.

  Trella didn’t tease her for it, and when Angelique studied Trella, she saw nothing but determination in her sister at being left alone this evening.

  Kasim had been right about Angelique suffering survivor’s guilt. She wondered if it was the reason she had given up so easily on her previous relationships. Being happy when her sister had been struggling had always felt incredibly disloyal.

  She still felt disloyal, haring off to London to be with a man, but it was only one night, she told herself. Kasim hadn’t promised anything else and neither had she for that matter, even though she felt a yearning for more.

  Not that she’d defined exactly what “more” would be. The artist in her appreciated that whatever they had was too new and special for close examination. Deconstruction could kill it. Sometimes you had to go with instinct, then determine after the fact what you had.

  Was this instinct? Or greed and selfishness? Or old-fashioned blindness to obvious facts?

  Exactly the type of scrutiny she had to avoid, she thought with a stifled sigh.

  Whatever it was, it drew her inexorably. Her pulse was racing over a single text from Kasim, promising to meet her at her brother’s flat within the hour.

  It was actually the family flat. Knowing Henri was in New York, Angelique assumed Cinnia was staying in her own flat, but texted her as a courtesy, mentioning that she was in town and asking if Cinnia wanted to get together for a meal.

  Cinnia’s reply came through as Angelique was letting herself in. It was a simple regret that she was staying with her mother and was sorry she had missed the chance to visit.

  Angelique put her bag in the room she and Trella used, checked that there was a decent bottle of wine in the fridge and moved restlessly into the lounge, wondering if she and Kasim were going out for dinner and if so, where? What should she wear?

  Paparazzi. Ugh, she thought with another sigh, but for once she wasn’t filled with as much dread as usual. She would have hated to have her night with Kasim reduced by the online trolls to a one-night stand, sullied and mocked, even though she’d gone to his room last night convinced it would be only that.

  Having this affair extend into a second night made it feel—Well, it still felt so rare and precious she wanted to guard it jealously, but she was so thrilled to see him again, she was willing to pay the price.

  “Oh, no,” she murmured, jerked from introspection as she caught sight of the coffee table.

  A courier envelope had been torn open and the contents spilled out. It was at least a hundred thousand euros in jewelry, probably more. It looked like the contents of Ali Baba’s cave, glittering and sparkling innocently against the glass tabletop.

  Angelique sat down hard on the sofa, chest tight. She thought about texting Trella, but Henri was the most private of all of them. He would kill her if he knew she had seen this. She couldn’t share it like tawdry gossip, not even with Trella.

  But what had gone wrong?

  Henri was adamant in his decision never to marry, but he and Cinnia had seemed so good together. Angelique would have bet real money that Cinnia genuinely loved him. How had those tender feelings become something as harsh as throwing his gifts back in his face?

  It was a cool, disturbing reminder that relationships fell into one of two categories: those with a future and those that ended. Her heart chilled, starkly confronted with the kind she had with Kasim.

  There wouldn’t be a moment of callous rejection between them, though. Not like this. She and Kasim were never going to spend two years together the way Henri had with Cinnia.

  Upset for Henri and Cinnia—and disturbed on her own behalf—she pushed the jewelry into the envelope, but the artist in her was drawn to examine the tennis bracelet. She’d never taken a proper look at it. It was a string of alternating pink and white diamonds, one Cinnia had always seemed to be wearing. Angelique was really shocked she’d given it up, especially now that she saw how exquisite it really was. The craftsmanship in the setting was extraordinary. She searched it for an insignia that might tell her where it had come from.

  When the door opened behind her, she stood with surprise, expecting Maurice, but it was Kasim. She had told Maurice to expect him, but had thought she’d have to ring him through the main doors downstairs before he would appear up here.

  “How did you get in the building?” she asked as she moved to meet him, flushing uncontrollably with instant pleasure.

  His mouth tilted with a hint of smugness, as if he read her infatuation and knew how slowly the minutes had passed for her before seeing him again. It was disconcerting, making her feel defenseless and obvious, but she still found herself crossing toward him, tugged by an invisible lasso around her middle.

  He waited for the door to shut before he hooked his arm around her and kissed her.

  It was proprietary and given how fleeting this affair was likely to be, she should be keeping better control over herself, but her heart soared. She quickly melted into him, instantly transported to the languorous memories of last night and anticipation for more of the same incredible pleasure he’d delivered.

  “You missed me,” he said when he drew back.

  “You didn’t miss me?” She tried to sound blasé, tried to pull away, but she was hyperaware of how needy that sounded. How completely easy she was being.

  His hand slid to her tailbone and pressed her hips into his enough that she felt how he was reacting to her. “I’ve been thinking about you,” he allowed.

  Fluttery joy invaded her abdomen and she tried not to reveal how quickly and thoroughly he’d bowled her over.

  “Good to know,” she said lightly. “But I am genuinely curious how you got into the building. It’s supposed to be locked down for residents only.”

  “It is. I was given the codes when I bought my flat this morning. Shall we go look at it?” He finally released her and stepped toward the door with a low wave for her to accompany him.

  “You—you bought a unit in this building this morning?” She had grown up with wealth, but they only owned a flat here because her father had bought it during the design stage, just before his death. The address was obscenely exclusive with a wait list a mile long of international dignitaries and techno-billionaires trying to get in.

  Perhaps she had underestimated how wealthy and powerful Kasim was. The cost to jump queue must have been exorbitant.

  “It’s a good investment. My mother likes London,” he said with a shrug. “She’ll use it if I don’t. Mostly I thought you’d appreciate the privacy. By some miracle, there is nothing online about us. I thought we’d celebrate our lack of infamy by staying in and extending our lucky streak. I’ve ordered dinner to be delivered in a couple of hours.”

  “We could have stayed here!” she pointed out.

  He offered a pained frown. “I do not steal into a girl’s bedroom at her parents’ home.”

  No, he dropped a few million pounds on a suite he was only using for one night. For her.

  She urged herself not to let that mean too much.

  “Shall I change?” She was still wearing her travel clothes, a dark blue jersey skirt with a pale yellow top, both her own design. They were quietly feminine, breezy yet classic and a tiny bit waifish.

  “You look beau
tiful.” He skimmed his gaze down and back. “And whatever you wear is only for the elevator.”

  “You’re not even going to pretend you’re inviting me to look at etchings?” She planted her hands on her hips, only realizing as she did that she was still holding Cinnia’s bracelet. Shoot. She was instantly self-conscious on her brother’s behalf. “Um. I just have to put this down and grab my phone.”

  “What is it?” Kasim asked, catching at her wrist as the snaking sparkle caught his attention.

  She opened her hand. “Something Henri bought for Cinnia,” she prevaricated.

  Her brother’s long-term relationship was well documented in the press, but she wasn’t going to be the one to start the rumors about its demise.

  “I want to ask him where he got it because the work is outstanding. Look at the detail here. You can tell each of these claws has been crimped individually to create this effect all the way along. I’m in awe at how painstaking that would be. Have you ever seen anything like it?”

  Kasim’s nostrils flared as he picked up the bracelet and gave it a thorough study, his expression pulling into a tension that bordered on agony. As if suddenly realizing how hard he was staring, and that she was watching him, he quickly straightened his features and handed her the bracelet.

  “No,” he answered belatedly and rather abruptly. “Let’s go.”

  Her heart did a little thump. The mood had definitely shifted. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  She was hurt that he would lie so blatantly to her, but moved across to tuck the bracelet into the envelope and picked up her phone.

  The silence in the elevator was not precisely thick, but it was significant.

  Kasim’s cheeks were hollow, his mouth flat.

  Maurice was with them, so Angelique kept her own counsel. Her guard went through Kasim’s new flat ahead of them, even though Kasim’s team had been here all day, ensuring it was not only clean and secure, but furnished and well stocked.

  The layout was similar to her family’s suite with a lounge opening onto a balcony overlooking the Thames. She imagined the door next to the wet bar led to the kitchen, as it did in their own. Down the hall would be the bedrooms and baths.