“This is the overnight bag you refuse to bring.”
His eyes were jewel-like in his face when he regarded her. Beautiful, yes, but determined too.
“I don’t refuse to bring an overnight bag,” she contradicted, slipping a vibrant turquoise dress off the hanger and marvelling at its sheer detail.
“You have not brought a bag any night you’ve stayed, despite my repeated request. Only a folding toothbrush and pair of underpants.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I like to get ready at home.”
“I want you here.” His tone was possessive and it rang with absolute authority. “I want you here every minute you are not at work, until I go.”
She bit down on her lip. It was too much. Too intense. She lifted her hands to his chest, her fingers splayed wide. “No.” Her eyes were heavy with desperation. “I can’t come to depend on you in that way. You’re a part of my life at the moment, but a small part. A great part. You can’t be the only part.”
He eyed her thoughtfully. “Are you still claiming this is just sex, Cassie?”
Her eyes were heavy. Her brain hurt. “What else can it be?” She cleared her throat, determined not to cry. “You’re going to be married in a matter of months. Probably with a child within a year.” She blinked up at him, her misery a force she could barely control. “And I don’t want anything serious.”
A muscle flecked in his jaw. “You just want sex.”
“Yes.” She tilted her chin at a defiant angle.
She was right to hold to their original agreement. So why did it bother him so much?
Anger made him unreasonable. And though he recognised that, still he continued down the same path. “You don’t even say thank you for this?” He gestured to the wardrobe.
“I didn’t ask for it,” she muttered. “I don’t need clothes. I don’t need nor want you to buy me things.”
“What do you want then?”
The question lurched between them, big and scary and confusing. She glared at him, no idea how to answer. No idea what the answer even was.
“What do you want?” She chickened out and turned it back on him.
“I want you to stay here with me while I am in this hotel. I want you where I can be sure you are safe. I want you in my bed, where I can reach for you at any time. I want you in my shower in the mornings. I am not an idiot, Cassie. Even for you I would not ruin the carefully laid marriage plans before me. This cannot be more than what it is. So let it be everything it can be for this short while.”
She let out a deep groan of annoyance. “Stop making stupid romantic speeches like that! You’re trying to turn this into some big deal. And it’s not.” She purposefully crossed to him and knelt before him. Her hands reached for the button on his pants but he wrapped his fingers around her wrist.
“Stop,” he cautioned, her intention obvious.
“Why? This is great. This is fun. This is what we both want.”
He stared down at her, his anger and annoyance cul-de-sacs of emotion: neither went anywhere. He spun away from her and stalked out of the wardrobe, leaving her crushed, kneeling on the ground.
She stayed there for a long time, staring unseeing at the white wall opposite. On the ground around her she imagined her pride, scattered and torn.
What was he doing to her?
One minute, he was commanding and sexy, a ruler born to control. The next he was sweet and courteous, considerate and thoughtful. She compressed her lips and finally pushed up to standing. She padded quietly across the room, and at the entrance, she shut the door. It had a lock; she clicked it into place, then moved to the ensuite.
What he wanted wasn’t so unreasonable. He had a week and a half left in London at the most. His hotel room was in a great location; it was even easier for her to get to her office from his place than it was from hers. Melinda wouldn’t like it, but she’d get over it. Cassie ran the water, and splashed it in her face. She lathered her hands with some of the lavender soap he used and then washed her make up off. She rinsed her face again, then padded her eyes dry with a towel.
She knew why she was in such a foul mood.
She hated the idea of him marrying another woman. She loathed the very thought that he was about to commit his life to a woman he didn’t love. That he was going to marry, and make love, and create life, with one of these three candidates.
And it was none of her business!
She certainly didn’t want to marry him. Nor to have his children. She was not suitable to be princess of a shoe, let alone a country. They both knew that. So what?
Was it just the fact that their relationship had an end date from the beginning that was upsetting to her? If they were seeing one another with a possibility of a future, would she have been happier?
She groaned into the empty bathroom and stamped her foot.
She couldn’t have said.
All she knew was that she’d picked the wrong fight. Again.
She walked out of the bedroom in a completely different mindset. He was standing in the lounge, hands planted on his hips, feet wide apart. And he was brooding. She moved to stand in front of him. Their height difference meant she had to crane to look up at him.
“I’m sorry.” The simplest way to express her feelings, she hoped he understood.
His black eyes dropped to her. “I don’t know what you want me to say to you.”
“I know.” She bit down on her lip. “I don’t either.”
He lifted his palm to her face and she pressed her cheek into it. “I like having you here. More than I thought I would. I do not mean to be forceful. I simply want you to stay as much as possible.”
“I know.” Her smile was bittersweet. “I told you I’d think about it.”
He nodded, allowing her to close the conversation. For the moment.
“I’m going to cook you dinner. Come and keep me company?”
He nodded, his mind not completely focussed on Cassie.
“How did your next interview go?”
The thought of him meeting with yet another prospective bride had made her skin crawl with invisible ants all day long.
“Was she another stunning princess in waiting?” The barb reeked of jealousy. Her expression was suitably contrite.
“Sina is nice.”
“Nice?” Cassie stepped into the kitchen and began to unload the groceries. “Nice is a little bit of a let down.”
He hated talking about this with Cassie, but she was like a dog with a bone. “Fine. She was excellent. A very good candidate.”
Her heart dropped. “In what way?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes. I suppose she’s got supermodel good looks, like Arja.”
“I never said Arja was stunning.”
She rolled her eyes. “Go on. Tell me about Sina.”
“She is well-educated and interesting. She would involve herself in political matters and she is already well-liked. As for looks, she is the opposite to Arja.”
“Oh? Short, blonde and curvaceous?” She queried sweetly, chopping onions with more force than was necessary.
“No, she is also dark in complexion.”
“Then what?”
“Two years ago, she was touring a school in one of our Western provinces. An electrical fault broke out and caused a fire. She didn’t flee. Instead, she ferried children to the window, leading them to safety. She managed to bring nine out before it collapsed. She suffered permanent disfigurement and scarring as a result.”
Cassie’s eyes burned with tears, and now, she couldn’t check them. “That’s very brave,” she whispered, her heart breaking. How could he refuse the charms of a woman such as this? How could she ever compete? The question scared the heck out of her. How could she compete? Did she want to compete?
“Yes. She is considered a hero.”
“You should choose her,” Cassie said quietly, her eyes focussing on the onions. At least they gave her tears legitimacy.
; “Thank you for your opinion.”
Cassie moved over to the chicken. She diced it neatly, trimming the fat, then added it to the pan.
He watched her work, fascinated by her deft movements, and frustrated by her silence. He could practically see her mind working, and yet he knew nothing of what bothered her. She had been in a strange mood since she’d arrived. Jumpy and cross.
She was just putting the finishing touches on the meal when his cell phone began to vibrate. His chief security advisor’s name was flashing up at him. “Excuse me,” he muttered, standing swiftly and disappearing from the kitchen.
When he reappeared in the kitchen, several moments later, something was wrong.
Cassie could see it in every line of his body. He was tense. Alert. Watchful.
She turned the heat off the casserole and put the spoon down. “What is it?”
He continued to look at her, as if trying to sum up what he should tell her.
“Layth Sati, you tell me now. What is it?’
He turned his phone around in his palm, and held it to her. There was a grainy image on the screen. She squinted at it, and then ice began to drudge in her veins.
“You know this man.”
She nodded. Her fingers were shaking and she thrust the phone back at him as though it might burn her. “Yes. Where did you get this photo?”
“My agent saw this man following you today. Why?”
“Oh, God.”
She moved on weak legs into the lounge and sat down unsteadily.
“Who is he?”
She shook her head. “His name is Antonio. He’s… he’s someone from the past.”
“I beg to differ. He is following you now; today he followed you. He is in your present.”
“But he’s not allowed to,” she whispered. “I have a court order requiring him to keep his distance.”
Something foreign lodged in Layth’s chest. He crouched down on his haunches, and pressed a finger beneath Cassie’s chin, forcing her to look at him. “Start at the beginning.”
She wobbled her lip between her teeth, and finally nodded. “He’s just some guy I used to know. We, um, dated for a while.”
He swore softly under his breath. “You mean you slept with him.”
She nodded miserably. “It was two or three nights. Three. He’s a sports agent. He was meant to leave. But he didn’t.”
“He became obsessed with you.” That Layth could definitely understand.
She nodded again. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Your panic would say otherwise.”
Her blue eyes clouded over as they looked at him. “I’ve dealt with it. I’ll call my lawyer and tell him about this. In fact, if you send me the photo …”
“He has been dealt with.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed heavily. “My security guards carry the same authority as police.”
“Not in London, surely.”
“No. But the Met has taken their advice with the same gravity as they would any other formally received report. This man was taken in after questioning here.”
“Questioning. Here? You mean he’s been in this building?”
“My agents occupy the downstairs suite.”
“Right. Of course. I guess they have to sleep somewhere.”
“Yes.” He stroked her hair. “This man will not bother you again.”
Cassie shook her head, trying to get some emotional clarity. “That’s why I was so upset by your guard. I’ve become very wary of anyone around me who doesn’t feel right.”
“How long did he do this for?”
“A month,” she whispered. “Before I realised. He got bold, and started confronting me. He’d turn up at really strange places. If I went to the movies, he’d be waiting for me afterwards. Or brunch with Mel.” She bit on her lip again. “I thought I’d dealt with this.”
“Men like him don’t listen easily.”
She swallowed, but there was an enormous lump in her throat. She knew only too well what men like Antonio were like. “I can’t believe he’s been following me again.”
“This is the kind of man you invite into your life with this … lifestyle.”
His words hurt, but mainly because they echoed exactly what Melinda had said.
He regretted the pronouncement immediately. He’d known it would anger her. Only she wasn’t angry. She was contrite. Meek, in a way he’d never thought she could be. Where was Cassie? His bright, confident, opinionated lover? Her absence in preference of this version of herself struck him more than anything else could have.
“I am not blaming you. You are the victim, and no man has a right to do what this man has. However, you give too much of yourself too soon. Before you know enough about these people. Before you understand if they’re trustworthy.”
He’d wanted her from the moment she’d walked into the bar, as though the world was a catwalk and she its model. She’d oozed sex, confidence and sass. Cassie had the kind of appeal that any man would recognise. And she put herself out on a platter, waiting to be picked up.
Antonio was unlikely to be the last man to threaten her safety. And there wasn’t a damned thing Layth could do about it. He’d be a world away, soon enough, and Cassie would be a trapping of his memories.
Could he trust that she’d be safe? That she’d take care of herself?
He moaned softly, and kneeled, so that he could move between her legs and wrap his arms around her.
She needed him then and there, not in the faraway future. She was terrified, and he could take that away for her. He poured his reassuring strength into the embrace and held her tight, waiting for her shivering to subside.
He held her tight, and refused to think about a time when he would no longer be able to touch her.
9
The question of whether or not Cassie would stay with him was settled easily after that. She knew she was delaying the inevitable, but for a while at least, it was lovely to curl up in his arms, and feel herself firmly beneath the banner of his protection.
Like Layth, she saw the horizon looming; the time of his departure. But she refused to think about it.
Life would resume. She’d go back to feeling as she always had. Eventually.
For now, she was amazed by how quickly she’d gone from a woman who wanted a fun, sex-only, no-strings-attached scenario to almost the complete opposite. Live in lover, and everything in between.
How the days seemed to drag! It never mattered how busy she was, nor what exciting new deals she was negotiating. She wore her impatience like a shroud, wrapped around her constantly. It was evident in the way she’d tap her fingers or nod her head a little too quickly, or say, ‘mmm, mmm, mmm,’ to wrap up a lingering conversation.
But now, finally, it was the weekend. Saturday morning cracked over London with the heavy scent of rain and grey clouds.
Cassie stretched in bed, reaching for Layth instinctively. He wasn’t there.
She pushed up on her elbows so that she could peer into the ensuite. Nope, not there either.
She wrapped a robe around herself and walked barefoot into the lounge area. The opulence of the apartment had daunted her before; now she barely saw it.
Layth was dressed. She felt a flicker of disappointment, but couldn’t help marvelling at what an extraordinarily handsome man he was. In dark trousers, a pale blue shirt left unbuttoned at the neck and rolled up to reveal his tanned forearms, he was impossibly irresistible. Cassie walked towards him silently, not sure if he’d heard her approach.
Apparently not. When she slid her arms around his waist, he seemed to shake himself from his deep reverie.
“You’re awake,” his smile was hard to read. Contemplative and brooding.
Hers was anything but. “Yes. And I’m not going anywhere. I have you for the whole day.”
He nodded, his dark eyes locked to her face. “Yes. And I want us to go out together.”
“You do?”
H
e nodded. “I want you to show me your life.”
“My life?” She licked her lower lip thoughtfully. “What do you mean?”
“Show me where you live. Where you play. Other than that bar, of course.”
“Oh.” She crinkled her nose in a way that made him want to scoop her up and drag her back to bed. “But my life is completely boring. Surely there’s something better we could do. Like take a Clipper out to Greenwich and look at the way lightning dances over the city.”
His lips lifted at her romantic suggestion. “Another time.”
“But seriously, Layth, my life is not at all interesting. You’re the most exciting thing to ever happen to me.”
“Perhaps what you call boring is interesting to me.”
She looked outside and frowned. He had a point. If she lived as he did, perhaps she would also crave a taste of normality. “Do you … I mean, would you like to meet Melinda?”
His eyes glowed. “Yes.”
Cassie reached up and cupped his cheek. It was something she did often, and he found the gesture dangerously endearing. It was a sign of caring softness, and he was becoming addicted to it.
“I’ll get ready.”
He nodded. “Is there somewhere near you we can eat?”
“I’ll make us breakfast. At my place.” She was enthusiastic for this scheme now. The prospect of showing him her life was giving her a complete buzz.
She practically skipped back to their room. The wardrobe was overflowing with clothes, and she pulled out yet another new outfit, only slightly shocked at how easily she’d adapted to this too. He’d bought the clothes. What was the sense in wasting them?
Her shower was completed in record time; she dressed and pulled her hair into a pony tail, slapped a little bit of makeup on her face and then called Melinda.
“I’m sorry to wake you,” she said immediately, aware that Melinda often slept late on weekends to make up for her demanding work schedule.
“Mmm,” Melinda groaned, barely able to concentrate yet.
“It’s just, I’m coming home today. Soon. Now. I’ll be there in about a half hour.” She was nervous and it was making her babble.
“What? You are?” The sound of Melinda banging her head on the bookshelf above her bed came down the phone.
Clare Connelly Pairs: Warming the Sheikh’s Bed & Love in the Fast Lane Page 10