‘These things have a habit of getting out,’ he said slowly. ‘That’s the way the world works.’
He sounded almost weary, as if he had seen sides of the world she did not know—and of course he had. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be a sheikh, but she was fairly sure that it would be very hard to trust people’s motives towards you. ‘Yes,’ said quietly. ‘I imagine so.’
The silence between them seemed huge. ‘I am sending some people to look after you, Sienna. If I come myself it will only add fire to the story. Is there somewhere you can go?’
She was suddenly and acutely aware that this conversation was a purely practical one, and not personal at all. He didn’t want to talk—notreally talk—and besides, what was there left to say? This was damage limitation time.
She bit her lip. Where did she always turn when she wanted an escape route? Who would always accept her with open arms and no questions asked? Who wanted the best for her no matter what. ‘My mother wants me to go to her.’
‘Then go. Let me arrange it.’
‘Hashim—you don’t seem to understand!’ she said frustratedly. ‘I have existing contracts to fulfil. And the phone hasn’t stopped ringing with work requests—I’ve never been so popular. I think it’s the curiosity factor,’ she added acidly. ‘Having your party planned by a so-called “Glamour Model.” But some of the calls are from journalists pretending to be clients. I’m certain of it.’
He felt the dark dagger of self-contempt as he remembered that he too had done just that. Pretended. Masqueraded. Finally got his way by seducing her—and now what had happened? Had she ever deserved this because of some rash youthful decision made with all the best intentions? ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.
She shook her head as if he was in the room, hating to hear his apology—so stilted and formal—like one stranger talking to another. ‘It isn’t your
fault, it’s mine. I should never have done it in the first place—I just didn’t realise it was going to come back and haunt me in such a big way.’
‘But that is down to me. To your relationship with me.’
The most precious thing in her life.Past tense , she reminded herself. She sighed, wanting to lean on him yet knowing she shouldn’t. And anyway, she couldn’t—not really. He was at his Palace, thousands of miles away, and she was holed up in her tiny terraced house in Kennington. There were no arms to hold her, no heart to beat next to hers, no hand to stroke her hair.
‘Can you get someone else to honour your existing contracts and ignore all the others?’ he demanded.
‘And who is going to pay my mortgage in the meantime?’
There was a moment’s silence, and Hashim chose his words with fastidious care, knowing that he trod on very sensitive ground here. ‘That is simple. You must let me help you, Sienna.’
She froze. ‘What do you mean—helpme?’
He could hear the bristly defensiveness which spiked her voice and, while he silently applauded her fierce pride, he knew that it would not and could not serve her well—not in circumstances such as these. ‘Just hear me out without interruption. That is all I ask of you. Please, Sienna, it is vital,’ he said softly. ‘If I took care of your mortgage for you—would that not free you up to get away for a while?’
‘I’m not letting you pay for me!’ Her voice lowered. ‘You must be able to see why I stand so firm on this issue.’
For a moment he had to control the instinctive lash of his tongue. Stubborn woman! Could she not see that he was only trying to help her?
Drawing on diplomatic reserves he had never had to call on before, he tried again. ‘Sienna,’ he said patiently. ‘I admire your independence and your spirit, but this is not some showering of expensive baubles on a mistress—this is me trying to help you get out of a bad situation which is mostly of my doing. To make some kind of amends. Will you not let me do that for you? Would not all that has grown between us be completely worthless if you will not allow me to behave as any true friend would towards another?’
There was silence. How appalled he would be if he knew that her thoughts were not of indignation that he was trying to buy her out of something but instead had fixed upon a word which resonated cruelly round and round in her head. Who would ever have thought that the acknowledgement that he was herfriend could have unwittingly caused so much heartache?
‘Will you let me?’ he said.
What choice did she have? To brazen it out in London, aware of the eyes which followed her? The curious glances? Women looking down their noses at her and men looking…? Well, she didn’t even want to gothere .
‘In a few weeks all the fuss will have died down,’ he continued smoothly. ‘The news will have moved on. That’s what happens.’
And, stupidly, that upset her even more—for once it had died down it really would be over. And wasn’t there a part of her—ever while loathing all this fuss and attention—that was secretly glad because it had brought Hashim back into her life when she’d thought that he had gone for good?
‘All right. I’ll go to my mother’s,’ she said.
At the other end of the phone, Hashim closed his eyes with relief. Outside his private study the court was in uproar, and Abdul-Aziz was prowling round the palace like a starving tom-cat, but Hashim didn’t care. She was safe. She would be safe—he had the resources to protect her.
‘I will have a car sent immediately,’ he said, glad now that he could rely on action, for this was something he always felt comfortable with. ‘And bodyguards will be placed at the entrance to your mother’s home.’
She opened her mouth to say that he didn’t even know where her mother lived, but then shut it again. Of course he did. He knew everything—and if he didn’t he could get someone to find out for him. Hashim could get anything he pleased.
‘Thank you, Hashim,’ she said.