by Annie West
‘Am I succeeding?’ Joss’s mouth curled in a smile that told her he planned something deliciously wicked for later. Her heart jolted. In his dinner jacket and bow tie he was the most potently attractive man she’d ever seen.
‘You always succeed.’ She let herself fall into the glorious inky depths of his knowing eyes.
How could she resist? He made her feel life was a secret to which he alone knew the answer. He offered it to her as he gathered her close.
The evening passed in a blur. The pleasure of speaking her native language mixed with bittersweet joy as she renewed acquaintances severed by years of isolation at Gamil’s hands. He’d stolen her freedom and self-confidence, but also family friends who’d thought she’d chosen to drift away rather than stay in contact. Meeting people who’d known her parents brought joy leavened with anger.
‘Leila.’ Joss’s voice cut across her thoughts. ‘It’s our turn.’ They’d made their way to the inner sanctum where the sheikh and his wife received guests.
Sheikh Zahir of Bakhara was a commanding figure, tall and broad–shouldered in traditional robes. Only the heavy gleam of gold on his ring finger and the intricately inlaid scabbard at his belt relieved the austerity of his garb. That face—shrewd, proud and determined—didn’t need adornment. He looked as if he’d stepped straight from the desert into the reception.
His wife, abundantly pregnant and beautiful in dark violet, smiled warmly and nodded at Leila. She placed a hand on her husband’s arm and instantly his features softened as he inclined his head.
Something sharp jabbed Leila under the ribs. At the sight of that powerful man so attuned to his wife? Because of the tenderness in Queen Soraya’s eyes as she looked up at her husband?
It was the impression of an instant yet the powerful connection between them hit Leila with the impact of a force field.
Longing welled up inside her. For what they had. For love, for permanence.
For the things she’d hoped for since she was little and shared the warmth of her parents’ love. Since she’d seen beyond her marriage of convenience to the man beneath the drive and hard-nosed business acumen. Joss was tender and patient. He was strong enough not to be threatened by her strength of character. He cared.
What would it be like carrying Joss’s child, as Queen Soraya carried the sheikh’s? Leila’s breath hitched as warmth flooded her. Joss’s child...
The sheikh’s gaze turned to her. She read curiosity and something that sent anxiety plunging through her.
She grasped Joss’s hand and he covered it with his.
Stupid to fear. Her marriage had saved her from Gamil’s influence, even if he’d used it to climb the greasy pole of court influence.
She was safe. She was free. Nothing could harm her.
‘Joss, it’s good to see you.’ The sheikh stretched out an arm and Leila watched, perplexed, as they shook hands. Joss knew the sheikh? He’d never mentioned it.
‘Your Highness.’ Joss drew her forward and introduced her.
To her relief the royal couple were friendly, despite the sheikh’s penetrating gaze. Soon they were discussing the recent upgrade of the embassy buildings and plans to renovate the Paris embassy. From there the queen steered discussion to Paris, her favourite city, and Leila found herself sharing reminiscences of the city.
By the time the ambassador called the assembly to quiet, Leila was enjoying herself.
It was only as she surveyed the silent crowd that she saw a familiar face—Gamil.
The blood drained from her face in a rush that chilled to her toes. Her breath hissed between her teeth and she had to work to keep her composure. Why was he in London?
Leila couldn’t stop a shudder of hatred and—though she was loath to admit it—fear, at the sight of him.
Joss tightened his grip, his thumb caressing the pulse at her wrist. His gaze was fixed on the far side of the room too. Feeling his strength, Leila realised that whatever came next she could face it.
She wasn’t alone any more.
Of the opening speeches Leila heard little. Her head filled with the urgent thrum of blood as her stepfather pushed to a more prominent position. He was opposite, watching the sheikh with an excitement that made her stomach dip in premonition.
There was a pause, a ripple of anticipation across the crowd, and Leila realised the sheikh spoke about the ambassador’s retirement and his successor.
Gamil straightened, his hand smoothing his sleeve in a familiar gesture that revealed nervous excitement.
Bile rose in her throat. Gamil had destroyed her mother and tried to destroy her. How could she listen silently to the news he was being elevated to that prestigious position?
The sheikh spoke again and applause thundered. All eyes turned to a distinguished man on the other side of the sheikh: a career diplomat and friend of Leila’s father.
Leila clapped the news of his promotion to ambassador but her attention was riveted on Gamil, whose eyes flashed shock and whose jaw worked with suppressed emotion.
‘As we are all friends gathered here,’ the sheikh continued, ‘I’d also like to take this opportunity to acknowledge one of our own.’ He gestured across the room at Gamil, addressing him by his full name.
Leila stiffened. What royal honour was he about to bestow? Gamil preened, chest puffed out and smile self-satisfied.
‘It’s come to my notice that, due to personal family matters—’ the sheikh’s voice dropped to a steely note ‘—our advisor Gamil is forced to withdraw from public life.’ He paused. ‘Permanently.’
Stunned, Leila watched as Gamil opened and shut his mouth as if seeking the nerve to protest the royal announcement. But the Sheikh’s grimly carved expression left no doubt this was a royal decree. A decree of exile from the positions Gamil had schemed to make his own.
Gamil turned a sickly colour and Leila realised he’d known nothing of this. He’d expected promotion and instead received the equivalent of banishment.
Her heart pounded as she realised the implications.
Power was Gamil’s reason for being and he’d been robbed of it. Publicly. Irrevocably. The sheikh’s word was law—there would be no negotiation.
‘And on the same subject...’ The sheikh gestured to Joss, standing close.
What was happening? Leila looked from one to another, her mind spinning in dazed circles.
‘Thank you, Your Highness. Ladies and Gentlemen.’ Joss’s baritone carried effortlessly.
He paused and flashed a look at Leila. His eyes were bright with something she couldn’t name. Something that warmed her to her soul. His fingers threaded hers.
Joss turned back to the reception. ‘In view of His Highness’s news, and given the widespread interest in my Bakhari enterprise, I have an announcement. As Gamil is retiring to private life, his position on my new company board will be ably taken by his stepdaughter, my wife, Leila Carmody.’
Leila started, eyes widening as Joss turned. She saw satisfaction and a hard, triumphant glitter in his gaze. Applause welled. Dazed, she caught approving looks from familiar faces.
‘But I—’ She shook her head, trying to take it in. ‘I don’t have the experience,’ she whispered.
‘I have faith in you, Leila.’ The sincerity in Joss’s voice eased the tension clamping her stomach. ‘Just one more challenge.’ His smile reminded her that he’d been beside her through so many recent challenges.
Would he be beside her now? Surely taking her onto his board wasn’t the action of a man planning to say goodbye any time soon. Had he changed his mind about not wanting a permanent relationship?
She barely had time to digest the idea when the sheikh spoke. ‘I’m pleased to see another capable woman contributing to our economic future.’
Heat rose in Leila’s cheeks. ‘Thank you, Yo
ur Highness.’ She had no idea why he thought her capable. She had no business expertise. Then she saw Sheikh Zahir and Joss exchange a look and suddenly so much tumbled into place. This was Joss’s doing. Not just the position in his company but what had happened to Gamil.
Her breath stalled in her lungs.
Joss had done that for her.
How much had he told the sheikh? She cringed from the idea of anyone else knowing her past, yet turning to find Joss’s gaze warm on her, full of tenderness and pride, she knew he’d have shared only what was necessary. And she couldn’t regret the outcome.
‘Congratulations.’ Queen Soraya shook her hand, beaming. ‘This means we can pursue our acquaintance. I have an interest in this enterprise too.’
Leila returned her smile, her brain buzzing as excitement fluttered in her stomach. Was she imagining this heralded a new stage in her relationship with Joss?
She was the centre of a congratulatory throng. Old acquaintances and new wished her well. And all the while Joss stood beside her. She was glad of his presence, overcome by what had happened.
She’d wanted to be involved in developing her family’s land. Despite the enormous learning curve ahead, this was the opportunity she’d sought. A chance to make her mark. The news was crazy, scary, exhilarating. Yet, she realised, it was exactly what she wanted.
Joss shifted abruptly. She sensed tension in his rangy frame and turned.
Gamil approached, his face mottled with choler, his eyes flat and hard.
‘I’ll deal with this,’ Joss muttered.
‘No.’ Leila put her hand on his arm, feeling taut muscles flex. ‘I will.’ She’d face this battle alone.
The rest of the room faded as she paced towards the man who’d made her life hell. The man whose cruelty had turned her world into a prison. She waited for hatred to surface. For that snap and sizzle of defiance. Instead, seeing him defeated and deprived of his grandiose dreams she felt nothing. He was a shadow of the puffed-up figure he’d been.
Leila stopped before him, waiting for his vitriol to spill out, knowing it couldn’t harm her. She’d moved on. The knowledge gave her a strength she’d never imagined. She felt ready to take on the world.
Gamil opened his mouth, then, after one burning glare, spun away and barged towards the exit.
Still Leila felt nothing. Till she turned and found Joss watching. The heat of his gaze was a caress of welcome. Of homecoming.
Knowledge slammed into her. Knowledge that had hovered on the edge of her consciousness for weeks.
It was so momentous that the blaze from the chandeliers dipped as the world slid into a blur then back into sharper focus, each detail more vivid than before.
Leila sucked in a stunned breath.
No wonder Gamil had no power over her now.
She had everything she wanted. She had Joss.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LEILA STROKED the damp contours of Joss’s chest, luxuriating in the aftermath of his loving. He’d barely walked in the door after a morning of meetings before she was in his arms then in his bed.
She stretched, arching her spine as his hand slid down her back then rose to tangle in her hair. She adored the way he touched her—those powerful hands gentle as if she were precious and breakable. Almost as much as she adored the times passion eclipsed gentleness and he took her with fierce urgency, times when it seemed their souls were one.
‘We didn’t even make it to lunch.’ His voice rumbled beneath her as she lay across him.
‘Hmm.’ She had so much on her mind, food didn’t feature.
Excitement stirred as she leaned over to press a kiss to his collarbone. All morning she’d seesawed between delight and trepidation. But after Joss’s tender loving she told herself there was no need for nerves. Everything would turn out right. More, it would be perfect. She could see herself growing old with this man. Bearing his children.
‘What are you smiling about?’
‘Can’t a woman be happy to see her husband?’ She feathered her fingers down his torso and across his ribs to the sensitive spot that always made him shiver. Inevitably he captured her hand.
‘How happy?’ His voice dropped to a gravelly scratch that scraped deliciously through her. ‘Happy enough to delay lunch a little longer?’
Her smile turned to a knowing grin. ‘I could be persuaded.’
Her heart was so full of joy she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. Leila thrust aside the tiny voice of warning that she couldn’t quite banish.
She pressed another kiss to his skin, inhaling his salty spice tang. Remembering all he’d done for her, how he cared, gave her courage to admit the truth. She didn’t want secrets between them.
‘I love you, Joss.’ Suddenly shy, she didn’t meet his eyes, but waited, heart thudding in anticipation.
His chest rose as he took a huge breath. His fingers tightened around hers.
‘What brought this on?’
Leila frowned. He didn’t sound pleased. His voice had a sharp edge she hadn’t heard in ages.
‘What do you mean?’ Mesmerised, she watched his chest rise again as part of her brain screamed that this wasn’t going how she’d hoped. Far from being delighted, Joss sounded suspiciously out of sorts. Had that warning voice been right after all?
Leila shoved the idea aside. She knew Joss. He wasn’t the cold, emotionally isolated man she’d once thought him. She raised her head. He was staring at the ceiling, brow lined by a ferocious scowl.
Her insides dipped like a swooping roller coaster.
‘What led to this announcement?’
He kept his gaze on the ceiling as Leila surveyed his taut features. His mouth was flat, pulled tight. His nose was pinched and lines carved deep around his mouth, giving him an uncompromising air.
Joy turned to wariness. Where was the man who seconds ago had burned hot with desire, who’d held her against his heart? He was real. She hadn’t imagined the changes in Joss since their marriage. They’d been profound. Enough to make her risk revealing her own fragile hopes.
‘I realised how I felt about you.’ Too late to rescind the words. She was committed now.
‘When?’ Still he stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. Leila was tempted to wave her hand over his face to grab his attention. Yet the taut flex of his muscles beneath her, his whole body stiffening, told her he was totally focused. ‘Last night, when I gave you a seat on the board?’
Leila frowned. He sounded...almost sarcastic.
‘Over a period of time.’ Not for the life of her would she admit he was right. The knowledge had struck like a lightning bolt as she’d met his eyes and felt that overwhelming sense of belonging, just after he and Sheikh Zahir had broken their news.
‘You don’t have to do this.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I don’t expect more from you.’
‘Do what?’ She shook her head, her hair sliding around them both. She watched it slip across his broad shoulder.
‘Pretend to feel more. I know you’re grateful about Gamil but it’s unnecessary.’
‘Grateful.’ The word sank like a stone in still water. ‘You think I’m grateful?’
‘Aren’t you?’ Finally he turned, skewering her with a glittering stare that should have sizzled her blood. Instead she felt hoarfrost crackle across her skin.
This had been the happiest day of her life and suddenly, inexplicably, it was going completely awry. She knew of his emotional scars but had told herself they’d begun to heal. Surely a man as caring and generous as Joss deserved love.
Had she fooled herself into thinking he was ready for that?
Fear engulfed her.
* * *
Joss looked into smoky green eyes and felt a pang of loss so keenly it stole his breath.
Everyt
hing had been so good—too good, he realised now. He should have known it wouldn’t last.
Hadn’t he had moments of premonition these past months? Moments of pleasure so exquisite he knew they must be fleeting? Because they were all tied up with Leila.
Because happiness that centred on another person was a mistake.
Because everyone left eventually. Or betrayed. Or used you till they’d eaten you up like acid eating skin, scouring till there was nothing left to feel.
He turned away from her intent gaze, back to the ceiling. Smooth, white, perfectly blank, it should have soothed.
His gut twisted in a searing knot that sent bile up to burn his throat.
Nothing soothed. Not now.
It was too late.
He’d let himself pretend this wasn’t dangerous. That they could go on as they were.
He should have known better.
I love you, Joss.
Even now he felt a desperate urge to cling to Leila’s words. To forget all he’d learned about love and loss and take a chance on the mirage being real this time.
He swiped his hand across his face.
Hell! He hadn’t wanted to believe so badly since he was ten. Since Joanna had run away and left him, despite her supposed love for him. Since he’d failed her and proved himself unworthy.
I love you, Joss. How often had his mother said that? Used the words to tie her children to her, only to reject them whenever they behaved like normal kids rather than extensions of her ego?
I love you, Joss. How many times had some woman simpered those words, clutching tight, hoping for more of the material riches he could give?
I love you, Joss.
They were a death knell to the happiness he and Leila had shared.
He gulped swirling nausea, skin crawling at the notion she might have deliberately set out to ensnare him with that supposedly magic formula.
Yet even worse was the suspicion Leila meant it. That she’d become emotionally invested in an illusion. That she believed him capable of returning...love.
Joss put a hand to her shoulder and moved her aside as he jackknifed to sit on the edge of the bed. He gulped huge draughts of air yet couldn’t fill his lungs. His ears buzzed and he thought he was going to black out. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, trying to calm the writhing knot of pain where his belly and his heart had been.