The Sheikh's Bought Wife

‘I’ve let you down,’ he continued, still in that same tight tone. ‘And because of that I’m going to let you go.’

‘Let me go?’ she repeated, because wasn’t that the euphemism bosses used when they wanted to sack someone?

‘I’ve broken my word—something I’ve never done before,’ he said, and suddenly she could see contempt contorting his tawny features. ‘So I’m setting you free, Jane. I’m not going to mess you around more than I already have done. I don’t need you. Not any more. I’ve done what I set out to do and done what I needed to do for my people. You can walk away from me right now.’

She opened her mouth to say she didn’t want to walk away until she realised it wasn’t an option. This was the Sheikh’s command, thinly disguised as concern for her welfare. Was she going to humiliate herself by begging him yet again?

Stiffly she got up, picking up her discarded robe from the floor and pullin

g it over her head, relieved to disguise her nakedness from his piercing gaze. ‘In that case, can you organise my return to England as quickly as possible?’ she questioned, her voice low and shaking.

He sat up, the rumpled golden sheet falling to his waist. ‘Have you got enough money?’

‘We agreed my fee at the very beginning, if you remember,’ she answered coolly and then curiosity got the better of her. She remembered the darkness on his face as he’d started to seduce her. She remembered the harshness which had underpinned his words just before he had entered her.

‘Something has changed, hasn’t it?’ she said slowly. ‘Something which made you want to break your word and have sex with me. It wasn’t just because you’d cleared your inheritance with your lawyers, was it, Zayed? It was something else.’

He gave a hard smile as he pushed back the rumpled sheet and pulled on his own robe. ‘I think you know the answer to that yourself, Jane.’

‘Actually, no. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.’

‘Really?’ He stood up and there was a pause as his gaze skated over her. ‘You haven’t been secretly writing to lover-boy from the Foreign Office, then?’

It took a full ten seconds before she realised what he was talking about. ‘You’ve been reading my emails!’ she said in a low voice. ‘You’ve been spying on me!’

‘The computer was open on the desk,’ he snapped. ‘When a message came through while you were in the shower, I didn’t realise it was open on your account. And it was from David. How touching. Nice of him to be planning a cosy new beginning for you for when you start your new life. You didn’t waste much time, did you?’

She met his eyes. ‘Why exactly did you just have sex with me, Zayed?’ she questioned. ‘Just tell me the truth. Please. That’s all I ask.’

There was a pause and she saw something like indecision shadow his features. A split second of hesitation, as if he recognised that there could be no coming back from what he was about to say.

‘Because I imagined you in the arms of David Travers and I couldn’t bear the thought of another man being the first.’

And that was the moment she knew it really was over. It had been all about possession, not passion—she had been right all along.

She pushed a wayward lock of hair back from her face. ‘I’d like to leave as soon as possible.’

‘Where are you going to go?’

Jane realised he didn’t actually care about her answer—he was simply protecting his precious reputation, probably thinking that it wouldn’t look good if the estranged wife of the Sheikh was going off to live somewhere unsuitable. Because he had shut down emotionally, she realised. He’d gone back to being the Zayed he preferred to be. They’d just had full sex but they might as well not have bothered. At the time she’d felt close to him but the feeling obviously hadn’t been reciprocated. All she represented to him now was a symbol of his failure to resist her, and she suspected he would never forgive himself for that. Or her.

So she gave him a cool smile. The kind of smile intended to let him know that this really was the end of their ill-fated marriage. That once she walked out of that door there would be no coming back. Her heart felt shattered enough as it was—there was no way she was going to risk inflicting any further pain on it.

‘Where I’m going is none of your business, Zayed. This is it. It’s over. I don’t want anything more to do with you,’ she said quietly. And, walking into the adjoining bathroom, she locked the door behind her.

CHAPTER TEN

FOR THE FIRST time in her life, Jane was without a plan. Within hours she had left Kafalah and flown into London, but she didn’t go back to her half of her rented house. She didn’t dare. She’d told Zayed she wanted nothing more to do with him, but she was aware that nothing was that straightforward. For the time being she was still legally his wife. What if he decided on a whim that he wanted some more hot sex with her? He might try to seek her out to do just that and she wasn’t going to risk it.

She didn’t dare risk being unable to resist him.

So, dreading what she might find when she got there, she travelled to Cleo’s home, surprised to discover that her sister had moved. No longer in a scruffy room in the farthest outreaches of East London, her twin was now ensconced in Ascot, in a cute little cottage which stood in the grounds of an enormous mansion.

‘I’m a housekeeper,’ said Cleo, by way of explanation. ‘And don’t look so surprised, Jane. Did you really think I was going to live in a shoebox for the rest of my life, trying and failing to be a model?’ Her gaze had narrowed. ‘Didn’t you ever think I might be capable of turning things around—or is it only you who is capable of positive change?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Jane slowly as she put her single suitcase in the hallway, thinking how badly wrong her sister had got it because nothing positive had come out of her ill-fated marriage to Zayed. Nothing but an ache deep in her heart and a sense of how badly she was going to miss him. ‘It’s just I can’t imagine you as a housekeeper.’

Cleo smiled. ‘Being subservient, you mean—on my knees, scrubbing floors, like Cinderella? You don’t honestly think I’d risk ruining my manicure?’ She wiggled her bright red fingernails in the air. ‘No danger of that! The guy who owns it is some big-shot billionaire who’s never around, who employs an army of cleaners and gardeners to look after the main house. I just live there when he’s away and my presence is supposed to deter any would-be burglars.’