A Diamond for the Sheikh's Mistress

‘I’m sorry, Kat.’

Zafir’s words reverberated in Kat’s head as she wound her way through the crowd, with Noor hovering protectively at her side. She’d smiled so much she thought she’d never be able to crack a smile again, even while her heart was shattering.

When Zafir had looked at her outside the door and said those words Kat had known then that it was over. It couldn’t have been clearer.

Their past had been resurrected in spectacular fashion and now Zafir knew Kat’s story—warts and all. Clearly he was taking responsibility for his father’s actions and felt guilty, but Kat couldn’t let him own all that guilt.

She should have told him everything. She should’ve have trusted that he wouldn’t reject her... And even if he had—well, then she might possibly have saved herself the negative press fallout because he might have pursued the photographer earlier to protect his reputation as much as hers.

But she’d been living in a dream...fantasising that Zafir loved her and that she would make a great Queen...until it had all shattered. The truth was that their bond hadn’t been strong enough to hold them together.

Then...or now.

For a moment the crowd seemed to thin around her and she sucked in a breath, relaxing her facial muscles for the first time in hours. Zafir was on the opposite side of the room, and Kat saw that for once there were no bodyguards close by. She had the crazy sensation that she wanted to run from the room, taking the diamond with her—as if it was all she had left to bind her to Zafir, and once it was taken off at the end of the evening she’d disappear completely and he wouldn’t even notice she’d gone.

Kat looked over to where Zafir was and at that moment, as if feeling the weight of her gaze on him, he turned his head and his gaze zeroed in on her immediately. Not wanting him to read her far too expressive face, Kat turned and took advantage of the lull to escape to a quieter part of the room.

She saw open French doors nearby, and was almost there when she bumped into someone. She started to apologise, but the words died on her tongue as she recognised who it was. Zafir’s mother. And suddenly everything she was feeling coalesced into a very familiar sense of inadequacy. The sense of déjà vu was overwhelming.

Zafir’s mother was a tall and regal woman, with cold dark eyes and a strong-boned handsome face. Her head was veiled and she wore an elaborate royal blue kaftan. Kat felt ridiculously ill-prepared, and found herself doing what she’d done the first time—bending in an awkward curtsey, with the vague idea that all royalty had to be curtsied to. Not that she’d ever done that to Zafir, of course.

When she stood again the older woman was managing to look down her nose at Kat, even though she was about the same height.

In perfect English she said, ‘I hadn’t expected to see you here again.’

Kat tried to ignore the dart of hurt at the thought of what this woman’s husband, and possibly she too, had done. Kat didn’t need to be reminded that she was not of this world and never would be. ‘Your son was kind enough to offer me a job opportunity...’

To be in his bed.

Kat didn’t say it.

But as if reading her mind, the older woman made a rude sound. ‘

If you want to call it that.’ And then she said, ‘Is it true what they’re saying? You lost your leg?’

‘Yes.’ Kat stood tall. ‘My left leg—below the knee.’

Someone who looked like a personal maid came forward then, and whispered something in Zafir’s mother’s ear.

When the maid melted away again she gave Kat a glacial once over and said, ‘If you’ll excuse me, please?’ And then she swept off with a veritable retinue of people in her wake.

Kat was left reeling a little at the woman’s ill manners. And then, remembering that she’d wanted to escape Zafir, she quickly walked outside to a blissfully deserted terrace. She went over to the wall overlooking Jahor and sucked in some air. Thousands of lights lit up the city, making it look even more exotic than usual.

For a moment she stood tthere, soaking in the view, because as of tomorrow morning when her flight took off she wouldn’t ever see it again.

Her peace was shattered, though, when a group of laughing, chattering people came out to the terrace. Kat tensed and turned around warily, ready to project her model persona again.

When the group of about five men and six women saw who it was they stopped, before smiling and moving forward towards Kat, evidently excited that they had a private audience with her.

Kat smiled, but the wall was at her back and the people were pressing closer. They weren’t speaking English and they were all talking at once, crowding around her to see the diamond.

Kat tried to look around them, to see if she could see Noor or another bodyguard, but there was no sign of anyone from the security team and she cursed herself for fleeing.

Someone reached out to touch the diamond and Kat started to panic, her breath growing choppy. They were closing in on her and she had nowhere to go. She couldn’t see past them, and one of the women had very strong perfume, which made it even harder to breathe.

Someone caught at Kat’s arm then, in a surprisingly firm grip which only intensified her panic and growing sense of claustrophobia. She pulled her arm free and stepped to the side in a bid to escape—and found she was stepping into nothing as she discovered too late that there must have been a step she hadn’t noticed.

She couldn’t stop herself falling helplessly, and all she heard at the last minute was a familiar voice saying, ‘Kat!’