by Maggie Cox
To stave off her distress, she blurted out, ‘When I get home you don’t have to come in with me. I can manage perfectly well using my walking aids.’
The man beside her turned slowly to survey her. ‘Save your breath, Darcy, and listen to me. No matter how much you try to reassure me, I make no apologies for insisting that I accompany you. It would be remiss of me to take you home after your accident and then not come in with you to ensure you have everything you need and are safe.’
Now her heart beat hard for a different reason. He was going to meet their son for the very first time. What would he say? What would he do?
Sami was a sensitive little boy and was likely to be overwhelmed by the intimidating sight of Zafir unless she prepared him first. For all her quick thinking and bravado, how on earth was she going to deal with that?
CHAPTER THREE
DARCY HAD BOTH feared and longed for Zafir to meet his son, and it was hard to believe that at long last it was going to happen. Yet when the car pulled up outside the modest townhouse in the leafy London suburb where she lived, her fear about their meeting felt as if it might choke her.
She couldn’t attest to being sure of him at all. What if he demanded custody of Sami in order to punish her because she hadn’t told him about the pregnancy straight away? He was a powerful man with access to the best lawyers in the world. What was to stop him from suing her?
Moistening her dried lips, she nervously met his inscrutable dark gaze. ‘You don’t have to carry me into the house,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m happy to go in the wheelchair.’
‘Good.’
For a few seconds he seemed amused, but she knew she shouldn’t be fooled by some imagined sense of his warmth towards her. Not when he was so sure she’d wronged him.
The faithful Rashid remained waiting outside the car at a signal from his boss, and he watched and waited as His Highness helped her into the wheelchair. Steering her towards the front door, Zafir reached up to ring the bell.
Darcy felt sick to her stomach. It was only natural that she should anticipate the worst, she reasoned. This man was no longer her employer and one-time lover...he was now an unknown entity and a serious threat to all she held dear.
Quickly delving into her jacket pocket, she produced her key just in time. ‘You don’t need to ring the bell. I have my key.’
‘Then give it to me and I’ll let us in. Will there be anybody here to help you while your ankle heals?’ His tanned brow furrowed, as if the notion that there might not be perturbed him.
Dropping the key into his palm, she scarcely felt able to reply. But in the next instant he’d wheeled her into the carpeted hallway and the only sound that greeted her was the ticking of the grandfather clock...the clock that had once been her dad’s pride and joy. Other than that, the house was quiet.
‘Sami and I live with my mum, but I think she must have gone out.’
Shutting the door behind them, he commented, ‘I take it that means you don’t have a husband?’
Planting himself firmly in front of her, the handsome Arabian folded his arms across his chest, leaving her in no doubt that he meant business and was going to find out the truth of her situation by whatever means necessary.
Gulping down an uneasy breath, she answered, ‘No.’ How could she tell him that she’d only ever wanted one man for her husband and that was him? ‘There’s no one in my life but Sami and my mother.’
‘I can’t pretend that I’m unhappy about that.’ His long-lashed black eyes focused on her intently. ‘It could potentially complicate things if you were in a relationship.’
Knowing what he meant, she tightened her pale hands on the arms of the wheelchair. ‘As it no doubt will when you marry this woman you’re engaged to,’ she said pointedly, unconsciously lifting her chin. ‘If Sami goes to stay with you in the future I have to confess I’ll be uncomfortable with the idea when I don’t even know her. What’s she like?’
‘Her name is Farrida. She is from an important Zachariah family and her beauty and her intellect are much admired. We have known each other since we were children.’
The aloof manner in which he described his bride-to-be didn’t tell Darcy very much about her at all—certainly not about the important things she wanted to know, such as her character and her values.
‘Is she a warm and friendly person?’ she pressed. ‘I suppose what I’m asking is, does she like children?’
His giving his intended a name, as well as listing attributes she definitely couldn’t match, made the woman even more threatening to Darcy.
‘And do...?’ She hardly dared ask the next question. ‘Do you love her?’
The glance Zafir returned to her was undeniably weary, as if the subject both bored and irritated him. ‘As to whether she likes children or not—she knows that she’s expected to produce heirs. This is not a love match. Arranged marriages are common practice amongst those with political power and wealth in my country. My family and hers typify that. Our destiny has always been to marry someone from a similar background.’
‘So what you’re saying is that you don’t have a choice about who you marry?’
The smile he quirked was wry. ‘My mother, the Dowager Queen, would not insist if the woman did not please me.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
Unfolding his arms, he sighed, and his sigh was tinged with impatience. ‘Surely you, of all women, must know what I mean? Have you so quickly forgotten how it was between us?’
The startling reminder was like a scythe slashing through her innards, because it was clear he was setting his sights on someone far above her background. Whether he would marry the well-connected beauty he spoke of or not, the woman surely had to be a much better bet than she had ever been.
She coughed to ease the tension that was cramping her throat. ‘Do you think you could get me some water? The kitchen’s just through that door.’
With a concerned expression, her companion briefly exited the room. He reappeared a few moments later with her drink. Once again the beguiling cologne he wore stirred the air, conjuring up potent imagery of a very different land whose history stretched back to the dawn of time.
‘Do you need your medication?’ he asked gruffly. ‘I have it here.’
He gave her the painkillers, along with the glass of water.
‘Thanks.’ Pressing the foil packet with trembling fingers, Darcy emptied a couple of capsules into her hand. Then she hurriedly swallowed them down with the drink, all the while aware that her one-time lover watched her avariciously, almost like a hawk about to bear down on his prey.
‘That’s better,’ she remarked, for no other reason than that it was something to break the silence that had fallen.
‘Even though we are no longer lovers,’ Zafir suddenly declared, ‘if I choose not to marry Farrida, and it can be proved that Sami is indeed my son, there is a way you can repay me for not telling me sooner that you were carrying my child when you left the bank.’
Darcy bristled. ‘When I was forced to leave the bank, do you mean?’
Unperturbed, the steady black eyes held her gaze. ‘That is a conversation for later...not now. Concerning your repayment—I have a solution. I want you to replace Farrida by agreeing to become my wife.’
‘What? You can’t be serious.’
Relieving her of the glass of water, he put it down on a nearby bookshelf. When he turned back, a muscle flinched tellingly at the side of a breathtakingly carved cheekbone.
‘One convenient bride is much the same as another. Except that you have one important thing in your favour, Darcy. It seems that you have already given me the requisite heir.’
She flinched as though struck, but knew he wouldn’t be displaying any remorse for stating things so bluntly. And she was right. All she saw in the silken black orbs was an intimidating mockery that told her it was utterly pointless to argue.
Praying she could remain calm, even though her heart already felt as if it mig
ht burst, she said, ‘Do you really think that I’d marry you after what happened between us? Our relationship didn’t work out because you didn’t trust me, Zafir. Instead, you believed the despicable lies your brother told you, and didn’t see that the sickening incident in that office was nothing but a set-up, engineered to discredit me. You never even gave me a chance to tell you how difficult he was making things for me at work. Straight away you thought me faithless!’
Taking a deep breath in to compose herself, she continued.
‘Xavier had been harassing me for months leading up to the day it happened. He was getting more and more frustrated by my lack of interest in him and he wanted to pay me back for it.’
At that moment the sense of abandonment and grief that she’d carried for all these years dramatically reached its peak and spilled over. The feeling was akin to being caught in a wild, untamed storm that had drenched her and now it was too late to escape from being drowned... All she could do was pray it would end soon and that her life would return to some sense of normality.
‘Then you heartlessly fired me.’
‘And you expect me to believe that?’
‘I don’t tell lies—especially when it concerns something as important as this. Sami is your son, Zafir. Do you intend to punish me even more than you’ve done already for telling you the truth about it?’
She was already aware that the knowledge he had a son would change everything for him. He had often told her the importance of having a male heir in his culture.
‘We made love in the heat of the moment that first time and I’d only just started taking the pill. I didn’t have time to properly protect myself, and...if you remember...nor did you.’
‘And you didn’t consider having an abortion?’
His voice sounded like a husk of its former self, and his glistening brow attested to the tumult of emotion he must be feeling.
‘I wouldn’t ever have done such a thing.’
‘Why not, isn’t it common practice in the West the acceptable cost of having your fun and not paying for it?’
She grimaced. ‘Whether it is or it isn’t, in my experience no woman makes that decision lightly. And, personally, I believe that life is too precious to destroy.’
Frowning, he said tersely, ‘So do I—but yet again you have probably told me a duplicitous story. More likely than not, I am not the only man you have been intimate with. You forget that there were rumours about the way you conducted yourself around men at the bank. Not least of all my own brother.’
‘And did you bother to check out any of these claims? Instead of automatically believing them to be true? And just because your brother is who he is, it doesn’t mean that you can trust him. Xavier lies as easily as he breathes, and you don’t do yourself any favours being so ready to believe him.’
‘Enough!’
Stepping towards her in a moment of white-hot fury, Zafir clenched his fist. His expression was fierce, and Darcy could tell she’d really upset him.
In those electrifying few seconds she wanted to die. No woman could endure what she had in a relationship and then expect things to somehow magically turn around for the better...could they?
But thankfully in the next instant, as if realising he had come perilously close to losing control, he seemed to gather himself.
‘Whatever the outcome of this meeting, you can be certain of one thing—’ he vowed ominously.
He wasn’t able to finish whatever it was he’d been about to say, but she sensed it wasn’t good. The very second he was about to break her heart again she heard the sound of a key in the door, along with the sound of childish laughter.
Her family had returned.
‘It’s my mum and Sami.’
‘What?’
Now it was her turn to leave him hanging. Eagerly she steered her wheelchair towards the living room door. Just as she reached it, her family did too.
‘Mummy, you’re back! Are you feeling better now?’
‘Much better, my darling, all the more for seeing you.’
Affectionately gathering the little boy with dusty blond curls and big brown eyes into her arms, Darcy pressed her lips into his hair, inhaled his familiar musky small-boy scent and forgot that Zafir was even there. All was right with her world because her son was safely home.
‘Nanny bought me a new football, Mummy. It’s a Chelsea one.’ He held up the shiny carrier bag he was clutching for her to see.
Full of excitement, he glanced across his mother’s shoulder just then and saw Zafir. His slim little body went rigid. The man’s impressive physique and attire might be seen as intimidating by anyone, but to a small boy with a head full of adventures—mostly featuring bloodthirsty pirates and sword-wielding warriors—Zafir looked nothing less than awesome.
Stepping back a little, Sami croaked, ‘Who are you?’
Darcy manoeuvred the wheelchair around so that she could catch the expression on her ex-lover’s face when he answered. She hardly dared breathe.
At the same time, understandably anxious to know what was going on, her mother, Patricia, leant down to her and whispered, ‘Are you all right, love? I didn’t see an ambulance outside. How did you get home?’
Having not yet related to her the full story about her accident, Darcy murmured softly, ‘This gentleman brought me. I used to work for him. We—we recently met up again and he kindly brought me back from the hospital.’
She hoped that would suffice for now. But as her gaze lit on Zafir she couldn’t help but be anxious about what he would say next.
Taking her by surprise, he dropped down to his haunches, his gaze growing noticeably warmer as he addressed the small boy. ‘Your name is Sami?’
It wasn’t hard to see that Sami was fascinated by him.
‘Yes.’
‘It is a fine name and it suits you well.’
‘It’s my dad’s middle name, and my granddad’s too, but I’ve never met them.’
‘I’m sure you would make them both very proud if they were to meet you.’
* * *
With his beloved father now dead, it wasn’t possible that such a meeting could ever take place, and Zafir sensed a renewed sting of grief for the man who hadn’t just been a wise father and friend, but his mentor too. ‘A king amongst kings,’ his mother often declared when talking about him.
Zafir’s limbs felt like lead. Suddenly mute, he had the disturbing sense of being in a most fantastical dream, where nothing was quite real any more. He looked at the boy. Could he really be his son? A wave of feeling gripped him. Hot on the heels of his initial doubt, a fierce hope was kindling. It was a feeling of the most incredible joy...the kind of joy that perhaps visited a person once in a lifetime, and then only if they were lucky.
As he studied the boy more closely his stomach must have flipped half a dozen times. Was it true? Zafir couldn’t deny that he saw distinct similarities to himself. Even though the child’s hair was almost as fair as freshly churned butter, and a million miles away from being dark, the deep brown almond-shaped eyes, the budding aquiline nose and full lips might have been sculpted by the same divine hand that had created his own. Add to that the ethereal loveliness of his mother, the boy was exceptionally beautiful...eye-catching, in fact.
That brought him back to the woman in question. Seeing Darcy again was a shock that nothing on this earth could have prepared him for, and he was still feeling a kind of dizziness around her—similar to that of a man whose drink had been spiked with some kind of opiate. To contemplate the revelation that their brief, passionate affair had created a child was astounding. The implications were enormous if it turned out to be true.
Even so, at the forefront of his mind burned the question why hadn’t she found some way to get the news to him when she’d discovered she was pregnant? She’d said that she’d left messages. But he’d never received any of them.
Zafir’s chest grew uncomfortably tight. He might be reflecting that Darcy could have got the new
s to him if she’d wanted to...but after being coldly rejected by him and dismissed from her job she had no longer trusted him. Why should she have when he had believed his brother’s telling of events over hers?
In her defence, at the time she’d insisted that Xavier had deliberately engineered the compromising scene in which Zafir found them because—as she’d said—he’d wanted to pay her back for holding out on him. He’d been pestering her with his unwanted attentions for weeks, she’d told him, but she hadn’t had the courage to report him. Not because she was a coward, but because the situation was clearly a sensitive one. How could she accuse Xavier of sexually harassing her and expect to be believed when his family was as eminent and powerful as theirs was? she’d asked him. Not only that, they were her employers too...
Zafir had found himself presented with one of the worst dilemmas of his life.
Now, not for the first time, he felt sick at the thought that he might have made a terrible mistake in wrongly accusing Darcy. But no sooner had the notion entered his head than he knew it wouldn’t be wise to jump to conclusions.
This time he would force himself to take a more measured approach in finding out the truth. And to that end he would insist on taking a paternity test. If it turned out that he was the father of her child, then and only then would he make the knowledge official and assume his full responsibilities. But for now he wouldn’t allow his personal feelings to take precedence—even though his heart had joyously leapt at the idea he might at long last have a son and heir.
Like a moth that on some level must know it would get burned by the flame it couldn’t resist, once again he found himself drawn to the blonde sitting quietly in her wheelchair. He got slowly to his feet. Even though she was understandably under par after her accident, her beauty was still radiant. The colour of her eyes was akin to a rare blue topaz, and they dazzled him like diamonds, whilst her pretty mouth made him remember with longing what it had felt like to touch his lips to hers. He had never known a pleasure like it.