A Diamond for the Sheikh's Mistress
Zafir frowned. ‘I’ve booked this suite for you for tonight and tomorrow night—until we leave for Europe.’
Kat shook her head firmly. ‘No. I’m going back to my apartment tonight. There are still some things I need to pack, and I’ve got one last shift at the restaurant this evening.’
Zafir’s eyes flashed. ‘You are not working in that restaurant another minute. And my driver can wait for you and bring you back here when you’re ready.’
This was what Zafir had done before, and she’d been too awed to say no.
‘You’re moving in with me, I want you in my bed when I wake up in the morning, Kat.’
A summons she’d been only too happy to comply with.
‘Please do not tell me what I can and can’t do, Zafir. I’m not officially working for you until tomorrow, when I will be here at the appropriate time to start preparing for the first function.’
She tore her gaze away from his and walked with as much grace as she could muster to the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her and resting against it for a moment.
Her heart was pounding. Underneath all Zafir’s arrogance she could feel his compelling pull, asking her for so much more. It had been explicit in the way he’d looked at her wearing the diamond. As if he wanted to devour her. No wonder she’d panicked for a moment.
Was that why he’d dismissed all his staff? Had he really believed that that’s all it would take? Seeing him, being enticed with the rarest jewel in the world, she’d fall back into his bed—except this time without any illusion that he wanted more than a finite affair.
This time there would be no marriage proposal to kick the earth from under her legs, making her feel for the first time in her life as if she truly was worth something to someone... She’d believed that Zafir had really wanted her and loved her for herself, and not just for the aesthetically pleasing sum of her parts.
Kat struggled with the zip on the dress, but she was damned if she was going to emit so much as a squeak to let Zafir know she might need help. Eventually she managed to get it down, after some serious body contortions, and stripped off to get back into her own clothes.
She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror and stopped for a moment, reminded of the fact that at first glance no one would see anything amiss but that on closer inspection they’d see her leg, and frown, and think, Wait a second...
Kat went cold all over as she contemplated Zafir ever seeing her like this—naked and exposed, her wounds visible.
Suddenly conscious that he was mere feet away, and separated from her only by a door, Kat stopped dithering and got dressed in her own clothes again, before going into the bathroom to wash off the make-up.
When her face was clean she straightened up and looked at herself. This was her now. Unadorned. She was naturally pal
e, and her hair tumbled around her shoulders, messy after she’d brushed it so roughly and darker in hue than she’d had it before, with natural copper highlights. She could see the faint lines wrought on her face already—the marks of her experience. Marks of her new strength, which she’d never needed more than now.
Zafir only wanted her when she appeared as she just had—when she was Kat the Supermodel.
As long as she could keep him at arm’s length and show him that she wasn’t the same woman, he’d soon lose interest and move on to someone far easier and more docile. As she’d once been. And when Zafir did lose interest and move on she’d finally be able to let go of the ties that still bound her to him like a spider’s resilient silken threads, because his behaviour would confirm for her that all he’d ever been interested in was the illusion of the perfect woman.
A small voice whispered to Kat that all she had to do was take off her jeans, walk out of the bedroom and show Zafir exactly who she was. He’d never want anything to do with her when he saw that she wasn’t everything she’d once been. He could handle the potentially negative PR fallout, but he surely wouldn’t want to seduce an ex-lover who was now an amputee.
So why don’t you just do it, then? crowed that inner voice. Go on—walk out of here and show him who you are now.
Kat’s hands gripped the sink hard. Her gut churned. If she did, it would all be over. She’d have to give the money back. She’d have to go to the rehab centre and apologise for getting their hopes up.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm. She was overreacting. Panicking. She didn’t owe Zafir anything. She didn’t owe him any explanations. He would lose interest once he realised that Kat would resist him no matter what. A man like Zafir didn’t want a strong, opinionated woman. He wanted someone who wouldn’t challenge him.
She could do this. She would do this. And when she walked away from Zafir after this was over, it would be for good.
* * *
Zafir handed over the diamond in its box to Noor and her security team. When he’d closed the door behind them he paced up and down restlessly.
Kat was seriously perplexing him. The fact that she’d choose going back to her rundown neighbourhood over sleeping in luxury was simply inexplicable. Not to mention wanting to fulfil one last shift at that excuse for a restaurant.
Once he’d known that she’d acquiesced to the job, he’d assumed it meant that she was also agreeing to share his bed again. After all, he’d made it explicitly clear that he wanted her. And he knew she still wanted him—it throbbed in the air between them like live electricity.
He scowled at the closed bedroom door. So what was she up to? The sum of money she’d already received was enough for her to seriously upgrade her life. And yet just now, when he’d reminded her that it was too late for her to walk away, it had almost seemed as if she was reluctantly agreeing to commit to something burdensome—not embarking on a journey to one of the easiest paydays she’d ever had in her life.
He had to admit to a niggle of doubt that it was the money she was really interested in, even though he’d long ago come to the conclusion that Kat had refrained from telling him about her massive debt because she’d figured that once they were married he’d have no choice but to clear it for her.