by Abby Green
* * *
The enthusiastic clapping and gasps of wonder at the sight of Kat and the gem had faded away, to be replaced by the excited chatter of hundreds of VIP guests.
Zafir noted the presence of high-ranking politicians mixed with award-winning actors and actresses, world champion athletes, prize-winning authors and everyone who was anyone with satisfaction. And yet his feeling of satisfaction somehow fell short.
He found he was more interested in where Kat was and with whom. Currently she was standing a few feet away from him, surrounded by a small goggle-eyed crowd. Irritated by this dent in his sense of satisfaction, Zafir cursed himself.
This was exactly what he’d envisaged, wasn’t it? To have one of the most beautiful women in the world standing amongst an awed crowd as she showcased his country’s famed jewel?
But if anything she outshone the diamond. The inky black of the dress and its clean lines showcased the perfection of Kat’s body. No other jewellery. Understated make-up. And not a bump or a mark or a blemish to mar that lustrous skin.
Zafir didn’t recall her being so pale before, but presumably if she hadn’t been travelling to exotic locations for fashion shoots, as she’d used to, then she’d lost her natural golden tan. And yet her skin seemed to glow even more. Like a pearl.
She was in profile to him now, and his gaze scanned down from the abundant dark hair artfully arranged in its chignon, to her high forehead, straight nose, lush mouth, delicate jaw and long, graceful neck.
The rare gem sat just below her collarbone, glowing as if lit from within by fire. Her shoulders were slim and straight. And then, as if compelled by the beat of his blood, his hungry gaze dropped to the voluptuous swells of her breasts.
Blood rushed to his groin and Zafir had to grit his jaw and use all of his control to stop making a complete fool of himself. He snapped his gaze back to her face, which he could see now was tense. Smiling, but tense.
He recalled how tightly she’d gripped his arm while on the red carpet, and how she’d wobbled precariously a couple of times as if her legs were unsteady. And the strangest thing... When he’d announced her arrival a short while before and watched her stand tall but alone, bathed in the spotlight, he’d felt a curious sense of pride, without even knowing why, exactly.
She turned her head then, as if sensing his intense regard, and looked at him, and before Zafir was even aware of what he was doing he ignored the veritable queue of people Rahul had lined up to speak to him and walked to Kat’s side.
* * *
Hours later Kat ached all over, and she sank down into the hot bath as much as she could, wishing she could submerge herself completely and forget how exposed she’d felt as she’d been paraded through that enormous room like a thoroughbred horse at a bloodstock auction.
And yet, to her surprise, Zafir had stayed by her side more or less constantly—even though she’d seen the frustration on his aide Rahul’s face as he’d tried to entreat Zafir to talk to this person or that person.
She didn’t like to admit that his presence had steadied her as much as it had unnerved her, and made her feel more capable of bearing up to the scrutiny—which had been of her as much as the gem. And that had been Zafir’s cynical plan all along, hadn’t it? To get the most out of bringing the notorious Kat Winters out of the woodwork?
Yet, a small voice pointed out, he hadn’t had to stay by her side like that. He could have quite easily ignored her all night...
But before she went down the dangerous path of believing that he’d stayed by her side out of concern or anything more, she reminded herself that Zafir’s motivations had undoubtedly been to make sure that she didn’t damage the Jandor ‘brand’ or upstage the diamond. And also because he was still messing with her head, not letting her forget the sensual threat he’d made.
At the end of the evening Zafir had been pulled aside to talk to an emissary from the American foreign office, and Rahul had come to let Kat know that she could hand back the gem if she so wished. Like a coward, she’d seized the opportunity, and he’d accompanied her to an anteroom where Noor had overseen the return of the gem to its box and it had been whisked safely away.
Then, when they’d re-emerged into the function room and Kat had seen that Zafir was still in conversation, she’d told Rahul that she was ready to leave.
Immediately he’d looked worried and said nervously, ‘I should check with the King—’
Kat had cut in more firmly than she’d felt, ‘I’m quite tired, and we have an early start to get to London in time for the function tomorrow evening, I’m sure you wouldn’t want the King to be displeased because I don’t appear rested.’
She’d almost felt sorry for how conflicted Rahul had looked, but eventually he’d agreed and had accompanied her down to the car and seen her off.
She’d just been breathing a sigh of relief when she’d received a text from Zafir while still in the car.
Next time, we leave together, Kat. Get some rest for tomorrow. Rahul will escort you to the royal plane in the morning and I’ll meet you there.
Kat hadn’t appreciated being made to feel like an admonished child, and yet now her mind drifted back to how Zafir had looked amongst the crowd earlier, how effortlessly he’d stood out with his height and dark good looks.
She couldn’t stop a pulse fluttering between her legs as she recalled how she’d caught him looking at her with something raw in his eyes. Raw, and hungry. It had leapt across the space from him to her, and she’d felt it as strongly as if he’d physically reached out and touched her.
The pulse between Kat’s legs intensified and she shifted in the bath, putting her hand down there, almost as if she could try to stop it. But once her fingers came into contact with her sensitised skin and she felt how slippery she was she sucked in a pained breath.
She’d been on a knife-edge of desire all evening, as much as she’d tried to ignore it. But she couldn’t any more, and her fingers moved tentatively but far too easily against herself, helped by the water and her own slick arousal.
She’d never touched herself like this...not until Zafir had shown her how and had instructed her to do it for him. She thought of that now—how he’d sat naked in a chair and told her to get on the bed and spread her legs, to show herself to him, and then to touch herself. He’d held himself in his hand as she’d done his bidding, his fist moving up and down the stiff column of flesh in a slow, relentless rhythm.
It had been the singularly most indecent and erotic thing she’d ever experienced, and just as she’d exploded into pieces around her own fingers Zafir had surged up, taken her hand away, seated himself between her legs and thrust into her, deep and hard, and had kept her falling over the edge again and again until she’d screamed herself hoarse.
Kat could feel herself quickening now, tightening, as her movements became more feverish and desperate...and yet in the same moment she realised that Zafir wasn’t watching her this time. She was alone in a bath...dreaming of the past and a scenario that would never be repeated.
Disgusted with herself, she took her hand away and opened her eyes, breathing harshly, ignoring the ache between her legs and the way her nipples were so tight they hurt. The truth was that she knew she would find no real satisfaction like this, and it killed her to admit it.
Kat pushed herself upright from the water and balanced on one leg. She sat on the edge of the bath, swinging herself over before drying herself roughly and reaching for the crutches she had nearby. Then she manoeuvred herself to standing, excess water dripping onto the towels she’d placed on the floor to stop herself from slipping and sliding when she got out.
Getting out of a bath was a process that was second nature now, but it had taken many months to perfect. It never ceased to amaze and humble her how much she’d taken for granted before.
She deliberately avoided her reflection in the countless bathroom mirrors, feeling like a coward. But right now she didn’t need a reminder of exactly why Zafir would n
ever look at her with that same hungry raw need again.
And the sooner she shut down these inappropriate fantasies, the better. Or she wouldn’t survive another day, never mind another couple of weeks.
* * *
The following day Zafir was still stewing over the fact that Kat had left the function without him last night.
They’d departed from New York early in the morning, nearly six hours ago, so their landing in London was imminent.
Rahul had brought her to the plane and Kat had looked pale and tight-lipped, answering any questions Zafir had posed with monosyllabic answers. And then, when he’d suggested that she take advantage of the bedroom to rest, she’d disappeared for the rest of the flight.
Zafir sighed moodily and took in the sea of endless clouds outside his window. He really wasn’t used to being thwarted like this. Especially not when the sexual tension between them was off the charts. He’d seen the way her gaze had roved over him hungrily when she’d first stepped into the plane, as if she wasn’t even aware of her impulse. Which was the same as his. To devour her with his eyes at every opportunity.
He heard a noise from the back and that ever-present desire spiked as Kat’s evocative scent reached him just before she did. She sat down in her seat again, asking huskily, ‘We’re nearly there?’
Zafir did his best to clamp down on the need to reach over and pluck her bodily from her seat and into his lap. ‘Yes,’ he gritted out. ‘Within the next half hour. We’ve started our descent.’
Rahul’s staff were at the front of the plane—out of sight and earshot—and his greedy gaze took in Kat’s soft jeans and the loose, unstructured top that somehow still managed to mould itself to her curves. Her hair was down, and Zafir wanted to wrap it around his hand and force her to look at him.
‘You won’t turn to stone if you look at me, Kat.’
He couldn’t disguise the irritation lacing his words. He saw how she tensed, but then eventually she turned her head and those glorious golden, amber and green eyes settled on him. Cool. Unreadable. Why was she so reluctant to take what he was offering? A no-strings-attached, very adult exorcism of this palpable connection between them.
He turned in his seat more fully, to face her. ‘You must be hungry. You haven’t eaten because you were sleeping.’
Before she could say anything he’d called for a steward, who materialised immediately. Zafir looked at Kat expressively. For a moment a mutinous expression crossed her face, but then she seemed to give in and said to the staff member, ‘I’ll just have something light...like an omelette, if you have it?’
Zafir added an order for coffee for both of them and the steward left.
Looking disgruntled, Kat said, ‘You’re still too bossy. And arrogant.’
Zafir shrugged, unperturbed. ‘I’m a King now. I have a licence to be as bossy and arrogant as I want.’
Suddenly Kat looked stricken, and those eyes which had been so unreadable were now full of something far more readable. Sympathy.
‘I never mentioned your father. I’m sorry for your loss. I know you weren’t particularly close, but still it can’t have been easy.’
Zafir’s insides clenched. Plenty of people had offered empty platitudes when his father had died, but few had known just how barren their relationship had been. But he’d told Kat. And her simple sincerity now tugged on a deep part of him that had mourned his father—or at least mourned the fact that he’d never been a father in the real sense. The loving sense.
The steward arrived then, with Kat’s food and the coffees, and Zafir said gruffly, ‘Eat. We’ll be landing soon and we have a busy schedule this evening.’
After a few moments Kat picked up her cutlery and ate with single-minded absorption.
When she’d finished, he mused out loud, ‘You always did have a good appetite.’
Kat went still and pushed the plate away from her before taking up her cup of coffee. She glanced at Zafir without letting him see her eyes properly. Her mouth had gone tight and she said, ‘When you grow up hungry it gives you an appreciation of food that others might not have.’
‘Was it really that bad, Kat?’
She glared at him. ‘You read that article along with everyone else in America, didn’t you? The lurid details of my life in a trailer park?’
Zafir shook his head, his irritation mounting. ‘I still don’t know why you couldn’t tell me the full details. There’s no shame in growing up poor, or in a trailer park.’
‘No,’ she said, avoiding his eyes again. ‘Only in the choices we make to survive.’
Kat felt bitterness corrode her insides even as she knew that this was her chance to spill it all out to Zafir. He was listening and receptive, and she’d always wanted to tell him, hadn’t she? But suddenly the thought of laying it all out felt too huge. She still felt vulnerable after appearing in public again for the first time last night, and like a coward she clammed up, avoiding the opportunity.
Instead she looked at him and said, ‘You called me a liar the other day, but I never lied to you. I just...didn’t tell you everything.’
‘A distinction that hardly exonerates you,’ Zafir pointed out.
He felt frustration mount when she didn’t respond, aware of a niggling sensation that she was still hiding things from him.
Just then the air steward arrived to clear Kat’s plate and inform them that they’d be landing shortly, and to make sure they were ready. The tension dissipated and Kat broke their staring contest to turn her head and look out of her window.
The plane circled lower and lower over the private London airfield and Zafir addressed his question to the back of Kat’s glossy head, unable to resist pushing her for a response. ‘You never told me why you didn’t go back into modelling full-time once you’d recovered.’
Zafir could feel her reluctance as she finally turned to look at him again, eyes guarded.
‘It wasn’t a career I’d ever really chosen for myself, and I discovered that if I had the choice I wouldn’t necessarily step back into it.’
Which was more or less the truth, Kat reassured herself as Zafir’s incisive gaze seemed to laser all the way into her soul. Even if she hadn’t lost her leg she wouldn’t have wanted to step back into that vacuous world. Being forced out of her old existence and into a new one had revealed a desire to find a more meaningful role in her life. What that might be, she wasn’t even sure herself yet. She only knew that she wanted to help people as she had been helped...
The plane touched down with a brief jolt and Zafir finally looked away. Released from that compelling gaze, Kat took a breath. She’d tried to rest earlier, in the plane’s luxurious bedroom, but sleep had proved elusive. She was too wound up after those illicit fantasies in her bath last night and the prospect of another public exhibition this evening.
Perhaps, she thought to herself a little hysterically, this was Zafir’s retribution? Expose Kat to the ravenous judgmental hordes who would pick her over until there was nothing left?
Although, from what she’d seen of the headlines in the papers that Rahul had been poring over in the car earlier, there didn’t seem to be much dredging up of the past—only feverish speculation as to why Kat had re-emerged and where she’d been and the nature of her relationship with Zafir. Kat wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or even more anxious at the thought that someone from the rehabilitation clinic might recognise her and sell the story of what had really happened to her.
Before she could dwell on that too much Zafir was standing, holding her bag in one hand and his other hand out to her. She looked at it for a moment, and then realised how futile it would be to try and resist. She put her hand in Zafir’s and let him pull her up. She stumbled slightly, falling against Zafir’s chest. His eyes flared and his hand came up to steady her, curling around her arm tightly.
For a moment their bodies were welded together and the heat between them surged.
Roughly he said, ‘Kat, why can’t you just admit—�
�
‘Sire, the cars are ready.’
Zafir clamped his mouth shut and didn’t look around at Rahul, their interrupter.
Relief flooded Kat, because she realised that if Zafir had kissed her in that moment she’d have responded helplessly. She pulled free and walked to the entrance of the plane, taking care on the steps down, telling herself it was her prosthetic limb and not the throbbing arousal rushing through her body making her feel wobbly.
* * *
The event in London was even more impressive than the one in New York. Because of Zafir’s royal status, senior members of the British royal family were present, imbuing the classic surroundings of one of London’s oldest and most exclusive hotels with an elegance and gravitas Kat had never experienced before.
The ornate furnishings glittered under the flickering glow of hundreds of candles. A string quartet played on a dais at one end of the room. Pristine waiters moved silently and discreetly through the crowd, offering tantalising, exotic hors d’oeuvres prepared by Zafir’s Jandori chef and glasses of priceless champagne.
Tonight Kat was dressed in a long strapless white dress. A sheath of simplicity which helped to show the red diamond to its best advantage. Zafir hadn’t arrived at her suite to put the diamond around her neck earlier—it had been a stylist who had taken it from one of Noor’s guards to place around her neck—and Kat denied furiously to herself that she’d missed his presence and his touch.
When Rahul had met her to walk her down to the function room, which was in the same hotel where they would stay the night, he’d explained that Zafir had had to take an important conference call and sent his apologies.
She’d denied the little dart of disappointment and she’d ruthlessly quashed the relief she’d felt to see Zafir waiting outside the function room—pacing, actually—dressed once again in a classic tuxedo that did nothing to disguise his virile masculinity and everything to enhance it.
His gaze had swept her up and down. This evening her hair was tamed into a sleek bun, low at the back of her head, and she’d seen Zafir’s gaze rest on it and how his eyes had flared with something unreadable. In that moment she’d gone breathless, imagining that she could almost feel his desire to undo it and let her hair fall down in its habitual unruly tumble of waves. He’d always loved it down...and the memory of that had made her weak.