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Even though she’d made it clear that she wanted all the fireworks and passion and roller coaster of true love. Finally, it was the thought of another man giving her what he’d refused to that had spurred him into action. The thought of spending the rest of his life wondering where she was, who she was bestowing that warmth of hers on, felt scarier than the risk of opening his scarred heart to her, hoping she wouldn’t deal it a death blow.
So here he was in Athens at a fashion show, the buzz that it was Yana Reddy’s last show—another fact he hadn’t been privy to because she wasn’t talking to him, letting himself be photographed by media and paparazzi, giving rise to all kinds of speculation just so he could have one glimpse of her.
He wanted to see her shine and dazzle and sizzle. He wanted to be a part of her dreams coming gloriously true.
Whatever Nasir had imagined about how she’d look when she strutted onto the catwalk had nothing on the reality. The music, the crowd’s energy and the sensual beauty of each model highlighted by carefully orchestrated lights and makeup and music...it was meant to bamboozle the audience.
Having been to a few shows in his twenties, and the couple of shows he’d been to during Yana’s stay at the castle, he knew how this worked. And yet, when Yana walked onto the stage—the last of the models to do so—in the French designer’s magnum opus: a glittery, rainbow-colored pantsuit, he was captivated anew.
Without a bra, the lapels of the jacket were stuck to her skin, baring most of her breasts, and she looked like a queen.
No, she was his prickly, fierce princess. And he’d been stupid to turn away from the best thing that had ever happened to him. To turn away from the incandescence of Yana’s love. A coward, as she’d called him.
But there was no turning back now, because she’d brought him back to life.
He was bemoaning his habit of not drinking alcohol when the doors to the penthouse suite of the hotel opened and she stepped inside.
Smoky eyes and a pale glossy lipstick and shimmery glitter over her chest...she looked like a dark, alien goddess full of fire and passion. Her hair had been plastered to her scalp in some weird hairstyle that served to highlight the stark sharpness of her features. All angles and edges that were soothed by the promise held in that lush, wide mouth.
“I wondered if it was you I saw out there,” she commented coolly, still standing there.
That explained her lack of surprise at seeing him in here now.
He nodded and swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. She watched him, and he watched her.
“Not a fan of the after-parties?”
“Not really,” she replied.
He stole a glance at his watch. He hadn’t expected her for hours, not until dawn. Suddenly, he felt woefully unprepared for all the words he wanted—no, needed—to say, after a lifetime of employing them. “I thought you’d be there.”
“You were the one who had me upgraded to this penthouse suite?”
He shrugged, waiting for her to slam the doors in his face and run off.
Instead, she walked into the suite, grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge and emptied it out. Then she opened another one, stood over the sink and poured it out over her hair and face. Her breath came in sharp, bracing spurts as the ice-cold water made goose bumps rise on her skin. “That’s better. It feels as if all those lights and sounds are stuck to my skin.”
He grabbed a hand towel from the bathroom and handed it to her.
She pressed her face into it and when she emerged from it, there was a resolve to her mouth that spelled his doom. “Will you tell me why you’re here? Or can I go to sleep? I’ve been on my feet for eleven hours straight.”
“Catch some rest. I’m not leaving until we’ve talked,” he finally said, following her to the sunken living room.
“I won’t catch a wink knowing you’re out here.” She plopped onto one of the sofas and before she could stretch her legs onto the marble coffee table, he sat down. His hands were shaking when he took her foot in his hands, pulled the lethal-looking heels off and pressed his fingers into the arch.
“God, I’ve forgotten how good you are at that,” she said, throwing her head back.
He repeated his actions with her other foot and an electric silence built around them.
“I’ve brought you good news,” he admitted finally.
She sat up, pulled her feet from his lap. “What?”
“Samuel loves your book. He wants exclusive rights to it. This is big, Yana. You’re going to be incredibly successful.”
She threw herself at him so suddenly that his heart rushed into his ears. “Oh, my God! That’s...awesome. I didn’t... I can’t tell you what it feels like to hear that. I...” Then she grinned, and there were tears in her eyes, but she rubbed them away quickly with the back of her hand. “Wait, of course you know how it feels. Thanks for telling me, Nasir. It means a lot. And it means even more that you came all this way to tell me.”
“When Samuel told me, although I know he shouldn’t have, I begged him to let me be the bearer of good news.”
