Caught in His Gilded World

‘But how do you know that? Why couldn’t it have been the opposite? She’d known love and it was a wonderful memory for her, something she might find again.’

The chay sloshed as he lifted the jug towards the bench. ‘I’ll tell you why, Gigi. My stepfather couldn’t forgive her for being in love with my father. It didn’t matter what she did—it was never enough to assuage his jealousy.’ Khaled banged the jug down with force. ‘There was nothing wonderful about the way he treated us.’

He realised he was breathing hard.

Gigi sat back, her brow pulled in that knot he remembered from their first encounter, but she wasn’t backing away from him.

‘I think Carlos was in love with my mother even after she refused to have him in her life. I’m sure that was why he came for me after she died. But it didn’t translate into love for me. He pretty much resented me from the start.’

‘You were his blood—why would he resent you?’

‘Because she loved me,’ Gigi said, with devastating simplicity, ‘but she didn’t love him.’

Khaled stilled.

‘You see,’ she said quietly, ‘we have more in common than either of us realised.’

His chest wall tightened. She was looking at him with those bright, hopeful blue eyes and all he could think was that it was like putting a little field hare in a cage with a grey wolf to compare their lives in any way. He could so easily tear her apart.

Gigi didn’t seem to understand this. She didn’t understand who he was.

Right now he was relieved that he’d turned down the stairs and not up—because if he took her to bed she was bound to read more into it than there was.

He would put her in a guest room tonight and a hotel tomorrow. It was time to reassert the barriers between them.

Instead he heard himself ask her gruffly, ‘Your father is no longer in your life?’

‘He’s in Barcelona. We talk on the phone. I’m not good at holding grudges. You don’t seem to be either.’

He tried to ignore the fact that she was telegraphing something else with her eyes—something about what had happened upstairs. She was biting her lower lip.

‘You’d be surprised,’ he murmured. ‘Tell me about your dad.’

She gave a rueful little shrug that held a great deal. ‘He tries to make amends, but he’s very old-school traditional—he thinks the way he raised me was right: being strict, withholding praise...’

‘Winding cords around your young feet?’

‘Oh, no, I did that myself, trying to please him. It was being lifted and lowered on the ropes every day that did it. Carlos is many things, but he’s not a sadist.’

‘Those marks on your feet make me want to meet your father in a quiet place,’ he said with intent.

‘It’s not necessary.’ She looked up at him through her lashes. ‘Although the cavewoman in me appreciates the gesture.’

Shoving aside his very real desire to clear the table and haul her into his arms, he pushed a plate towards her and poured cold chay into glasses.

She needed food in her stomach—that was the only reason they were down here together—and then he would do the right thing and send her to bed alone.

If it killed him.

Gigi bit into her sandwich with gusto and moaned.

He was a dead man.

‘Good, this is so good,’ she mumbled. ‘You’re like the King of Sandwiches.’

‘I’ll mention that to my investors,’ he murmured, watching her eat. ‘You really are hungry.’

‘This is normal for me. I eat like a horse. It’s all the dancing.’ She swiped at her mouth unselfconsciously.

Many women had gone to great lengths to seduce him. Not one of them had ever thought just to eat a sandwich.

He noticed he hadn’t touched his own. Food wasn’t a priority for him right now.

His skin felt tight, hot, and he couldn’t help looking at the wondrous architecture of her dancer’s body and the soft female curves of her breasts and bottom beneath her clothes. He’d had his hands on her, and he wasn’t going to forget that any time soon.

To take his mind off it he concentrated on what she needed. He knew she must still be hungry and dug out some kirsch-flavoured dessert from the fridge.

While he was fossicking around Gigi was collecting the two plates and wiping up where she’d splattered bits from her sandwich. He paused with the fridge door open, taking in the sight of Gigi pottering around his kitchen. Rinsing the dishes. It all felt weirdly domestic.