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But she was. She missed her friends. She’d lived with Georgie the whole way through university, and Andrew was at their flat so often he might as well have had a room. She typed Time in London into her phone and waited for the response. It was early evening. Perfect. She clicked on Georgie’s number and waited for the call to go through, only it rang out. And so she tried Andrew. No luck there either. Thwarted at every turn, she had been in the process of browsing the books when the servant had appeared and said, in heavily accented English, “The Sheikh will see you now.” As though they were strangers.
Now, as she turned and ascended yet another flight of timber stairs, polished to such a sheen they were almost reflective, nerves were winning the battle. Finally, when she had been about to ask if they’d almost reached the moon, the servant pulled on a door handle and stepped back to allow Julia entry.
What she saw fairly took her breath away.
It was a huge space at roof height of the building that didn’t seem to know if it was a balcony or an outdoor room. On one side, there was gauzy fabric suspended, and the burning candles gave the space a fragrance of orange and cinnamon, and some unknown, more exotic spice. There was a large bed, or mattress rather, on the floor in the center of the room, and though it was obviously basic, it was covered in ornately covered cushions and a woven quilt that almost seemed to shine with gold flecks.
She gulped nervously as she turned her attention away from the bed. But it was Zayn who truly took her breath away. He’d changed into a pair of loose grey pants and a black shirt; an outfit she could only guess was more traditional to the men of Naman, and he looked dark and dangerous, and bone-meltingly sexy.
“You did well today,” Zayn said seriously, his face covered in shadow and therefore unreadable.
“Oh?” Her throat felt tight, too tight to speak. She clasped her hands behind her back. For some reason, they were shaking, and she didn’t want him to see.
“Yes. I think you convinced Adina and Amal that ours is a match of love.”
Julia was glad that the night was dark, because despite the stars shining up above, she knew he wouldn’t be able to see the way her cheeks were blushing. She had loved him once, and she was pretty sure she was only about five minutes away from loving him again. He could never know how close to the surface the emotion was for her. He had shown how willing he was to disregard her feelings to achieve his own ends. What would he do with her heart if he knew he held it? Undoubtedly contort it until she did whatever he wished.
She straightened her spine and forced herself to speak steadily. “I liked Adina very much. I don’t like lying to her.”
Zayn’s eyes narrowed as he slowly took in her appearance. Despite the warm desert night, she was shivering, and she was standing in a stiff pose. He walked stealthily across the floor, like a panther stalking his prey. She didn’t flinch. Good. He liked her strength, always had.
He stood so close that if she swayed just a little they’d be touching. She looked up at him, careful to keep her expression muted. His fragrance was like sandalwood, and it felt like a physical punch in the gut because she remembered it so well. It was a cologne that was specially crafted for him, and he’d given her a vial of it when he’d left her, to come back to Naman, four years earlier. “To remember me by, until next we meet,” he’d promised with the kind of kiss that had curled her toes and made her blood boil with lust.
“Such a tiny bottle,” she’d remarked teasingly, when she was capable of speech once more. “This won’t last long.”
“Then we shall have to meet again soon.” Only they hadn’t. Not for four years. He’d moved on only a month or two later, and she’d been left with the memories and the cologne and the pain of his absence and the sting of betrayal.
Julia pulled herself back in the present. It was dangerous to remember the past, especially the pleasurable parts. What little resolve she had would not last long in the face of such sweet seductions. “What is this place?” She asked, trying her hardest to sound bored.
“This is my real home,” he said with a curl of his lips.
Julia’s brows drew together as she studied his face. “Do you mean it?”
“Yes. Living in the desert is a great Namani tradition. I know it’s ironic, given the wealth and status of my family, but I like to sleep up here, under the stars, as my kinsmen always did.”
Inside her chest, Julia’s heart thudded painfully. As if he wasn’t already irresistible enough, he started sprouting poetic statements about kinsmen and the desert and starlit sleep. She repressed the wistful sigh that was forming inside her.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” he intoned with something like coldness. “I know you like the finer things and there is a bedroom downstairs that would not look out of place in the palace. I expect it will come up to your standards.”
Anger breathed into her. “Why do you do that?”
“It is the truth. I know you, Julia. Don’t forget who you are speaking to.”
“Oh? Who’s that?” She asked tartly, wishing she could step away from him, but not wanting to at the same time.
“The man who paid six million pounds for you. You can pretend you don’t have a price, but we both know differently.”
She tried to swallow down the pain in her chest but it didn’t go anywhere. She closed her eyes in the hope it would block him and his hateful words out, but he was still there when she opened them a moment or two later.
“How could I forget our marriage contract?” She said with a steely determination that hid the jumble of sad nerves in her gut. “I told you already, you don’t own me. We had a deal. You helped my father out and I agreed to marry you. That does not mean you bought me.”
“Semantics, my bride. We agreed the terms before our happy marriage took place. It’s time for you to go through with your side of the deal.”
Unconsciously, her eyes strayed to the bed. His meaning was clear, and she had two choices. She could either lose her virginity here and now to a man who clearly thought her to be the worst of the worst, or she could renege on their deal and run the risk that he might back out on his promise to buy her father’s company.
She blinked back the sudden moisture in her eyes, and dropped her gaze. In the end, her treacherous body was making the decision for her. Rational though could argue the toss for all eternity, but her body was aching for the promise of sexual satisfaction that it had craved for years and years.
