If only he could.
He watched through the open door as she changed into her gym gear and pulled her long blonde hair into a high ponytail in the middle of her head. Her shoes were the most ridiculous shade of apple green – bright and happy, like she had been when he’d met her. Of course, a lot had happened since then. He’d seen past that flirtatious, easy-going façade to the real woman.
“I’ll see you soon,” she called as she stalked quickly through the suite. She didn’t come to him. She didn’t kiss him goodbye. And he knew the reason for her swift departure. Cassandra Walton was about to cry, and she was too damned proud to let him see that.
He waited until the lift had swallowed her into its shiny mouth and then slammed his palm against the dining table. He swore loudly and slumped in his chair.
He had dug himself into a royal mess and all the exits were locked to him but one.
His mood was darker than a winter’s midnight as he dressed into one of his ceremonial robes. Black with gold detailing on the sleeves, it was similar to the one he’d worn at the embassy with Cassie. His frame of mind didn’t improve as he rode the same elevator Cassie had taken a little over an hour earlier. He could still smell her sweet fragrance – her shampoo, perfume and her. Something indefinable and lovely.
The door opened onto the identical apartment beneath his, and in the middle stood Arja. Beautiful, regal and poised, she smiled up at him.
He moved towards her, and tried not to think of Cassie. She was an illusion. A sylph in the desert; a magical breath he could never catch.
Arja was real.
Arja was the bride his family and people expected him to choose.
He smiled back at her, and tried to let his image of Cassie go.
* * *
Was he with her still?
Arja.
Even her name was exotically beautiful. The way he said it: Arja, with a soft ‘sh’ sound. It was a caress.
Was he caressing her? Kissing her? Seeing if they were compatible before he named her as his fiancé?
Her legs kicked on, faster and faster, eating up the paths. She skirted the western edge of the park, and then headed down Oxford Street. It was busy now, on a weekend, in contrast to that late night she’d left Wine Underground with Colin. She ducked into the first café she came across – a Starbucks – and joined the back of the queue. It moved slowly, and as she reached the front, she tilted her head towards the glass windows.
They were there. Agent One and Agent Two, a reminder that Layth cared for her. For now, the devilishly truthful voice in the back of her head snapped waspishly. Soon he would return to his life in Takisabad, and whatever he thought they shared would fade into the recesses of his mind. He would be busy, both with his royal duties and his new marriage.
Bitterness rolled over her.
To marry a man like Layth; what would that be like? Cassie felt an unwelcome future protrude into her mind. A life spent with him, laughing, talking, making love. A life shared in every way.
But it wasn’t to be her future.
Despondent now, she stepped out of the queue and shook her head in frustration.
Why was she thinking along these lines? Both she and Layth knew what they should expect when they got involved. Nothing had changed.
She pushed out of the café empty handed, her eyes briefly encompassing the two agents. “I’m going to catch a taxi back.”
Agent One lifted a hand instantly, hailing a black cab with the power of someone who operated in such a capacity as he. It retraced their steps back into Knightsbridge, the driver picking a scenic route rather than the more direct. Cassie didn’t think to admonish him for padding the fare.
She might have lived in England for a decade, and London for seven of those years, but she’d never get sick of the view.
At the bottom of the prestigious hotel, she pulled a note of out of her pocket but the guard waved her hand away and flashed a black credit card. Cassie shrugged.
What was the point in arguing? The wardrobe Layth had accumulated for her was probably worth tens of thousands of pounds. The ring was undoubtedly several times that. And she couldn’t even think of the necklace without blushing. What was a cab fare in the face of such outlandish generosity?
The foyer was busier than usual. A small group of well-dressed women sat on the sofas, and Layth’s security agents were visible everywhere.
The lift doors opened as she approached and she moved aside automatically.
A radiantly beautiful woman stepped out. She was wearing an ornate cream dress. Bridal. Her dark hair was wound around her head. Crown. And her eyes were glowing with satisfaction. Success.
Arja, for surely it was his prospective bride, looked straight at Cassie, then beyond her to the security guards. Cassie supposed the security guards marked her as someone who was special to the Emir. Arja’s look was laced with scorn, as she instantly, correctly, summed up the situation. Her eyes dropped to Cassie’s generous breasts then she smiled dismissively and walked away.
Cassie felt the bottom fall out of her world.
Arja had every right to look at Cassie with scorn.
It was she, Arja, who Layth was choosing to commit to. Cassie was just someone to warm his bed.
But was she? Her mind ran over the night they’d shared – dancing to the backdrop of the storm, talking about their childhoods. How could he push that aside to marry someone like Arja?
Because it was expected of him. Because it was what he wanted.
Cassie was frozen to the spot.
“Ma’am?”
Agent Two didn’t touch her. He wouldn’t dare. But he moved into her field of vision. Cassie swallowed. What was upstairs? Her phone. Her bag. But she had her keys. She’d grabbed them automatically. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs.
What had she been thinking?
This wasn’t meaningless sex. It wasn’t meaningless anything. And it wasn’t just her and Layth who were in this sordid little arrangement.
She lifted a hand to her mouth as the realisations kept exploding into her brain like dangerous little fireworks.
Should she see him again? Or walk away and save her sanity? Could she leave now, knowing she was gambling the last few days they could spend together?
She had come to this relationship wanting fun, and she’d ended up feeling more miserable than ever in her entire life. And that was saying something.
She bit down on her lip, indecision making her mind hurt.
“Ma’am,” Agent Two addressed her again. “Are you well?”
Cassie blinked. She couldn’t run away. No matter how hard it was to see Layth now, she needed to do it.
When the lift opened into the suite she’d been sharing with Layth Cassie felt almost calm.
He looked so regal and imposing that butterflies began to form a kaleidoscope in her tummy. He took in her pink cheeks and sweat-soaked outfit and frowned. “You’ve run the length of England.”
She didn’t want to talk about her fitness regime. “I usually do ten miles.”
“Crazy,” he laughed softly, relieved to be back in the same room as this beautiful, free-spirited angel.
“How did your meeting go?” She sounded confusingly calm. How had she managed that when her insides were churning with acid?
A flicker of something passed over his expression. “Not something I wish to discuss,” he intoned flatly. He was even angrier than he had been earlier!
Again, doubt ravaged Cassie. To stay or go? To accept the limitations of what he could give her, or rail against them, even though that meant leaving him?
She toyed with the ring, still hovering just inside the suite.
“But you’ve decided? It’s her?”
He prowled closer to Cassie. There was something pink on his cheek. She looked at it distractedly at first, and then with the abhorrent realisation that it was lipstick. And not hers.
“Oh, God.” The nausea she’d been fighting for days began to c
hurn in her gut. She pushed past him and ran to the bathroom, only just making it in time. She heaved until she felt like she had nothing left in her, and collapsed onto the tiled floor.
“Cassie,” he crouched behind her and slid his hands beneath her arms. The worry in his voice wrapped around her, but she rejected it crossly.
Mortified, she reached for a towel and buried her face in it. “I can’t do this anymore, Layth.”
He was very silent, for a long time. Only the gentle pressure of his hand on her arm reassured her that he was still there.
“I can’t do it,” she repeated wistfully. “I thought I could. But it’s all changed. You must see that.’
But he didn’t see anything beyond the wonderful possibility that had just occurred to him. “Cassie, you’re sick.”
“I’m fine. I’ve been feeling funny for days now. It’s this situation. I’m suffocating.”
He stood up, emotions surging in him. He pulled his phone out and dialled his most trusted security chief. He spoke quietly and swiftly, employing the bare minimum amount of words to get his point across, before disconnecting the call and turning all his attention back on the crumpled figure on the floor.
“A doctor is coming to see you.”
“I don’t need a doctor,” she muttered. “I need a head examination for going along with this for so long.”
“Cassandra.” He stopped pacing and stared down at her. “Does it not occur to you that you might be pregnant?”
The silence stretched between them like a never-ending piece of elastic. Her heart turned over at the very possibility, but she was already shaking her head. “No. I couldn’t be.” A frown tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I’m on contraceptives. And we’ve only been together a few weeks.”
Something unpalatable occurred to him. Something he didn’t want to think about, but which he was morally obliged to address. “Could it be someone else’s then?” And what would he do if it was? What would that mean for them?
She pulled a face; every fibre of her being rejected the idea. “No. I told you, there is no baby. And before you, I hadn’t been with anyone since Antonio. And that was a long time ago.”
He was relieved, and surprised. Mostly relieved though. “The doctor will be here soon.”
She nodded, and stared bleakly at the white wall opposite.
A baby.
It wasn’t possible. Was it? Wasn’t the pill almost completely fool proof? She fidgeted her hands and tried to focus on something – anything else. But nothing came to her.
Just the idea of a baby with this man! This man who had said from the outset he’d never marry someone like her; but a man who desperately needed an heir.
So if she was pregnant, then what? Would he marry her even though she was utterly unsuitable, simply to secure his lineage? And would she fall in with such a preposterous plan? It was not, after all, just about what Layth Sati wanted. There were more important considerations.
Such as what she wanted. And what would be best for a hypothetical baby. She didn’t know enough about Takisabad; only what he’d told her. What if it was completely wrong for her? What if she hated it?
Nausea rose inside of her again. Panic.
She lifted herself back to the toilet and heaved until her stomach was empty.
Her body shuddered from the effort and she collapsed, resting her face against the seat. She was hot and cold all over.
Layth, watching from the doorway, felt impotent. It was a horrendous emotion for a man such as him to experience. Perhaps she’d simply exerted herself too strenuously that morning. She had covered a big distance. Though not, according to her own admission, as great as she ordinarily would.
They’d been making love like two crazy, hormonal teenagers. Several times a night for almost two weeks, and before that? The night they’d shared when they were just strangers. How long ago that now seemed! How strange to have touched her body without realising the beauty of her soul.
Might that have been the night they made a child? Despite the fact she was on contraceptives, surely it was possible? He didn’t want to examine his emotions in that moment. They didn’t do him justice; what he felt was beneath him. He owed more to Cassandra.
He stifled a groan and moved over to her. “Take a shower,” he said quietly, running a hand down the side of her face. “You will feel better.”
She nodded. “I think you’re right.”
Cassie put her hands in his, so that he could pull her to standing. He stroked her face so tenderly that her heart stammered in her chest and the world seemed to tip strangely on its side.
She smiled weakly. “I’m sorry about this.”
He lifted her chin, so that her eyes met his. His heart was tapping with a staccato beat. “About what, exactly?”
“The fuss.” Just a pained whisper.
“You cannot help being ill.”
Something clouded in her face and her eyes drifted to his cheek again. The lipstick was still there. She blinked as hot tears began to burn in her eyes. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need a doctor. Just give me a moment.” She blinked and moved away from his touch, reaching into the shower to get the water running. Steam began to fog through the bathroom and Cassie peeled her gym gear off without looking back at Layth.
She stepped into the shower and leaned against the cold tile wall.
Layth was still there. Watching her thoughtfully.
“I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth. That lipstick was visible to her through the distance and steam. Or perhaps it was just burned into her brain in a way that made it impossible to un-see.
“I know.”
Cassie propped onto her side, so that she was facing away from him. Her life, she decided melodramatically, had rapidly become a mess. This sexy man whom she had intended to use as a fun fling had become something much, much bigger than that. She couldn’t bear the thought of his inevitable departure; nor of his marrying someone else. The thought that she might have a tiny baby in her stomach made joy and delight crystallise in her. But what if he didn’t want that? What if he wanted the marriage to Arja? What if his parents and uncle never accepted her? What about her job? One didn’t simply have a royal baby and keep going with normal life. The little prince or princess could hardly be shipped off to crèche while she continued to sell art to corporate clients.
She reached for the loofah and began to soap her body. She couldn’t know how hard it was for Layth to stay outside the shower. How he wished it were his hands running over her body, covering her in warm, soapy water. But concern for her safety and well-being was now paramount. He pushed down on the rampant desire she effortlessly invoked in him.
He heard muffled voices beyond the door. “The doctor is here,” he said, pulling a towel off a hook.
Cassie flicked the water off and opened the door, stepping into the enormous bath sheet he offered. She wrapped it around her wet body.
“That was quick.”
“He travels with me always.”
Layth’s face was almost unrecognisable. He was withdrawing from her – going into what she’d started to think of as Sheikh mode. All firm, powerful, untouchable control-freak.
“Take a minute to prepare.”
She nodded, biting down on her bottom lip.
“Layth?” Her voice was soft. She hated that. She hated that he could turn her to mushy and sensitive when she wanted to be confident and strong-willed.
His dark eyes roamed her face. He understood the question she was asking; the reassurance she sought. “Whatever happens, we will cope with it.”
She nodded. Question answered. Cope with it.
Cope with it.
If she turned out to be pregnant, that would be something to cope with. Bad news. Not good.
Her heart was a stone, weighing down in her chest.
She scanned the clothes and finally settled on a simple blue dress. She used the hair dryer to take most of the moisture out of her blonde mane and put a tin
ted moisturiser on to hide the paleness of her skin. A little pale pink lipgloss completed the transformation.
Cassie was pleased to see herself in the mirror. She was almost normal looking, despite her tumult of emotions.
Layth was pacing the lounge room. A slender man dressed in traditional robes was standing in the entrance of the suite, staring straight ahead.
“Cassie,” Layth exhaled, and for the briefest moment, the hint of a strong emotion crossed his face when he looked at her. “This is Doctor Anessi. He has been chief advisor to my family for as long as I can remember.”
Cassie nodded. “Pleased to meet you.”
The doctor’s smile was professional and brusque.
“His highness has briefed me on your … situation. A blood test is the best way to confirm your status.”
“A blood test?” Her eyes drifted to Layth.
He nodded. “It is most accurate at this early stage.”
“Right.” She nodded. “And that’s all there is to it?”
Doctor Anessi nodded. “Please, take a seat.”
Cassie moved to the lounge. Layth, instead of sitting next to her, stood like a sentinel at her side. The doctor opened his briefcase and began to remove equipment.
“This won’t hurt.”
Cassie nodded again. She’d had blood tests before. If she seemed anxious, it wasn’t because of the test. It’s because of what the test would reveal either way. Her smile was tight. “That’s fine.”
The actual process took just minutes.
Layth switched to his own language, something Cassie had never known him to do in front of her before. She felt instantly excluded. The doctor and he spoke earnestly for a few minutes and then Doctor Anessi dredged his professional smile up once more. “You will have results tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She nodded. And something occurred to her. “You’ll call me with them?”
The Doctor’s eyes lifted to Layth.
Layth’s expression was dark. “He will come here, and tell us.”
Layth again switched to his own tongue, but it was obvious that he was dismissing the doctor and downplaying Cassandra’s feelings at the same time.
Clare Connelly Pairs: Warming the Sheikh’s Bed & Love in the Fast Lane Page 13