Mistresses? In Dubai? Her tummy dropped to the soles of her feet and her facial bones were clenched so tightly that her face felt frozen. Was it true? Was Zarif entertaining multiple women in his bed, just as his ancestors had done in the days of the harem?
CHAPTER NINE
ELLA AGONISED FOR what remained of the afternoon over the thorny question of whether or not she had the right to ask Zarif awkward questions.
It was a matter of decency, she told herself. She wasn’t prepared to have sex with a male who might still intend to engage in encounters with other women at the first opportunity. The sick feeling in her stomach was disgust at that suspicion, nothing more personal. She was not hurt or jealous. To experience either reaction, she would have to be in love with Zarif and only the most stupid woman in the world would have fallen in love with a man who only wanted her body in his bed for a year. And she was, most assuredly, not stupid. Zarif had never had deeper feelings for her and what you didn’t have, you could hardly miss. In fact, a sexual affair conducted on the lines of the utmost practicality and honesty was much less dangerous than one wrapped in honeyed lies and pretences.
Thus bolstered by a fine head of superior steam interlaced with deep abiding shame at her brother’s threats, Ella sat down to dinner with Zarif and simply placed her phone in front of him, opened up so that Jason’s texts could easily be read. ‘You said we should be honest with each other, so I thought you should see this.’
In smouldering silence, Zarif studied the screen, beautiful wilful mouth twisting with derision, but Ella also noticed the hint of pallor that had paled his golden skin and the tension that steadily entered his big powerful frame.
‘I will deal with this. Don’t respond,’ he instructed smoothly. ‘But I think Jason will find it a great challenge to sell another story about either of us. My legal team has already demonstrated my zeal with regard to protecting your reputation in the British courts this week. The tabloid that printed that sleazy article on our wedding day will be printing a retraction and I am suing them for millions.’
Ella stuffed a lettuce leaf into her dry mouth and waited but that, it seemed, was that. Zarif mentioned how unexpectedly well Halim was doing on his new drug treatment and informed her that he had decided to extend their current accommodation into the suites on either side to give them more space. He then told her with a warm smile of amusement that her appearance in the council chambers that morning had made the headlines in the evening paper.
Indeed they had reached the dessert course of fresh fruit and cheese when Ella mastered her growing incredulity at his shocking ability to avoid the obvious and said dulcetly, ‘And that’s it? You’ve said all you intend to say about Jason’s allegations?’
Dark golden eyes set with stunning effect below winged ebony brows and a lush cloak of blacker than black lashes gazed in serene challenge back at her. ‘I answer to no one on the score of my private life,’ he declared smooth as velvet.
Temper bubbled up through Ella’s stiffening frame. ‘You answer to me!’ she contradicted without hesitation.
‘And why would you assume that?’ Zarif enquired in the mildest of tones, his handsome features taut with proud assurance and steadfast cool.
Ella thrust back her chair and stood up, her eyes electric blue with steadily mounting rage. ‘Because you married me.’
‘But it is not a conventional marriage. It is more one of convenience for both of us.’
Ella whirled round to face him so fast that her hair slapped against her cheeks. ‘I will not sleep with a man who is planning to sleep with other women!’
Zarif left the table at an infuriatingly leisurely pace and strolled forward. ‘Then you have no possible cause for concern. You are presently the only woman in my life or my bed.’
‘Couldn’t you just have told me that upfront?’ Ella almost screeched at him in vexation. ‘And ditched the macho need to tell me that I have no right to question your behaviour?’
‘My past is none of your business,’ Zarif stated on a note of distinct challenge. ‘You go beyond your boundaries when you try to question me.’
‘Do I indeed?’ Ella hurled back, trembling with rage. ‘Then maybe you should’ve spelt out those boundaries before we got married!’
‘A clear oversight for which I apologise,’ Zarif murmured as smoothly as ever.
‘There are times when I hate you!’ Ella launched at him full volume, her hands clenching into fists of frustration by her side.
‘I will not stand here while you shout at me,’ Zarif told her grimly, lean, strong face hard as iron as he strode towards the door.
‘If you run away sooner than answer my perfectly reasonable questions, I will see it as an act of extreme masculine cowardice,’ Ella informed him with fiery vehemence.
Temperamentally incapable of ignoring a charge of that magnitude, Zarif froze two steps from the door before swinging almost violently back round to survey her with glittering golden eyes of sheer fury. ‘How dare you?’
‘I dare because I want answers,’ Ella admitted grittily.
‘Even if you’re not entitled to them?’
‘The way I see it, I was entitled to answers the instant we shared a bed,’ Ella replied with a toss of her head. ‘Do you have an apartment in Dubai?’
Zarif considered the question for several burning seconds and compressed his lips. ‘I do. Have I kept women there? I have but it is presently empty,’ he concluded curtly.
‘And is it going to stay empty for the duration of our marriage?’ Ella prompted, more than a little relieved that he had chosen to respond.
‘For as long as you are with me,’ Zarif confirmed in a low-pitched growl, his brooding rancour over her persistence unhidden in the stubborn set of his jaw line and the angled-back height of his proud dark head.