A Diamond for the Sheikh's Mistress Read online

  Kat’s conscience pricked when she recalled how she’d always put off telling Zafir the unvarnished truth of her background. And as for the debt... She’d never wanted to reveal that ugliness, or the awful powerlessness she’d felt. Not to someone like Zafir, who set such an exacting standard for moral strength and integrity.

  ‘Dammit, Kat, you told me nothing about yourself—when were you going to reveal the truth? If ever?’ He shook his head before she could respond, and repeated his accusation of that night. ‘You were obviously hoping that I’d marry you before the sordid details came out and then you’d be secured for life even if we divorced.’

  Kat felt breathless, and nausea rose inside her. ‘It wasn’t like that...’

  Zafir looked impossibly stern. As unforgiving as he had been that night. He changed tack, asking her again, ‘Who is Kaycee Smith?’

  Kat swallowed painfully, not remotely prepared for her past transgressions to be visited upon her again like this. ‘Kaycee Smith is the name on my birth certificate.’

  A dark brow arched over one eye. ‘A pertinent detail missed by the papers?’

  She refused to let Zafir do this to her again. Humiliate her. Annihilate her.

  Kat tipped up her chin. ‘It was about the only thing they did miss.’

  Thankfully, she thought now. Otherwise she would never have been able to fade away from view as she had.

  ‘We have nothing to say to each other, Zafir. Nothing. Now, get out—before I call the police and tell them you’re harassing me.’

  Kat moved decisively from her spot behind the sofa towards the door, powered by anger and the tumult inside her, only to be stopped in her tracks before she reached it when Zafir asked sharply, ‘Why are you limping?’

  Immediately the adrenalin rush faded, to be replaced with a very unwelcome sense of exposure. There was nothing to hold on to nearby and it reminded her of how vulnerable she was now.

  She turned around slowly and realised that she was far too close to Zafir. Every part of her body seemed to hum with electricity. It was as if her libido had merely been waiting for his presence again, and now it was no longer dormant but very much awake and sizzling back to life.

  His scent wound around her like a siren call to lean closer...to breathe in his uniquely male smell. It had always fascinated her—the mixture of earthy musk and something indescribably exotic which instantly brought her back to her first and last visit to Jahor, with its awe-inspiring palace on a hill overlooking the teeming ancient city on the edge of the ocean.

  She’d felt so awed and intimidated at the prospect of becoming a Queen of that land, and yet deep within her she’d thrilled to the challenge. But when Zafir had deemed her unsuitable to be his wife she’d realised what a fool she’d been to indulge in such a fantasy. She was no Queen, and she had no right to the ache of loss that still had the power to surprise her when she wasn’t vigilant.

  Her head snapped up. Zafir was still frowning. She moved back, aghast that her body could betray her like this. And then she remembered what he’d asked: Why are you limping?

  Everything inside Kat recoiled from revealing herself to Zafir. The urge to self-protect was huge. He had no idea of the extent of the devastation in her life since she’d seen him—not all of which had to do with him. It also had to do with events totally beyond him.

  But she knew that giving him nothing would only pique his interest even more, so reluctantly she said, ‘I was involved in a road traffic accident a while ago. I injured my leg and I was out of circulation for some time.’

  Try at least a year, Kat thought to herself, and held her breath, praying he wouldn’t ask for more details.

  Zafir looked at her assessingly. ‘Is that why you haven’t returned to modelling? And is that why you’re living like this? Because you still haven’t cleared your debts? You’re obviously recovered now though, and I can’t imagine the fashion world wouldn’t have renewed your contracts eventually, once the story had died down.’

  Kat hid her reflexive flinch at ‘you’re obviously recovered now.’ But she wasn’t about to explain anything—not when Zafir was clearly no more ready to hear the truth now than he had been back then. And he was right—except when the fashion houses had come calling again she’d been in no position to consider going back...

  Kat breathed out unsteadily. She avoided answering his questions directly and said, ‘I do some hand modelling, but that’s about it. And the waitressing.’

  Zafir came closer, standing beside the chair. His gaze was far too keen on her and incisive. She could almost hear his brain working, trying to join the dots.

  Kat just wanted him gone. He’d upended her world once before and she wouldn’t survive him doing it again.

  ‘Look,’ she said now, trying to hide the desperation in her voice, ‘did you really come here to rake over old ground, Zafir?’

  She stopped and bit her lip as a dangerous thought occurred to her—perhaps in spite of everything he had come to listen to her side of the story? Even belatedly?

  For a moment Kat felt something very delicate flower deep inside her, but after a moment Zafir shook his head and said curtly, ‘No. Of course not. That’s in the past and I’ve no wish to revisit it any further.’

  Kat’s heart thumped. Hard. Of course he hadn’t come here to hear her side of things. Apparently she was as pathetically susceptible to this man as she’d ever been, and in spite of everything she’d been through that was somehow more devastating than anything else. She felt a dart of panic at the knowledge that time had done little to diminish her feelings or her attraction to him. If anything, everything felt more acute than it had before.

  She forced out words through a tight jaw. ‘Then if you wouldn’t mind leaving? We had a past and you pretty definitively ruled out any future, so what more could there possibly be to say?’

  She regretted asking the question as soon as she saw the calculating gleam come into those slate-grey eyes.

  ‘Our future is exactly what I’m here to talk about. A different future to the one previously envisaged, yes, but I don’t see why we can’t leave that in the past and move on.’

  Kat’s insides tightened as if warding off a blow. ‘I’m not interested in discussing any kind of future or moving on with you, Zafir.’

  * * *

  Zafir’s jaw clenched and he had to consciously relax it. He wasn’t used to anyone talking to him like this—and he couldn’t remember Kat ever being so combative. But he couldn’t deny that somewhere deep inside him he thrilled to it. She had changed, and yet she was still intriguingly familiar. Achingly familiar. His whole body hummed with frustration to be so close and yet have her hold him at arm’s length and look at him as if he was an unwelcome stranger.

  In truth, he hadn’t expected her to be so antagonistic towards him. He knew things had ended badly before, but she was the one who had kept the truth from him, clearly in a bid to avoid risking his commitment to marry her—which was exactly what had happened. Yet she was acting as if she was the injured party!

  He cursed himself. He hadn’t planned on rehashing the past, but obviously it had been inevitable. But, as he’d said, he was done talking about the past now—it was time for him to lay out his plans for Kat. For them.

  In spite of everything, and even though he knew there were a thousand reasons for him to turn and walk away from Kat and forget he’d ever seen her again, he couldn’t. Not now. But he assured himself that he could have what he wanted and get on with his life. And he fully intended to.

  ‘I’m not leaving until I’ve said what I came to say, Kat.’

  Dismayed, Kat watched as Zafir illustrated his point by sitting down again. He was an immovable force, and she recognised that steely determination all too well. The last thing she wanted was for him to see how raw she felt, so she schooled her features and sat down opposite him, as if this visit wasn’t tearing her apart.

  She looked pointedly at her watch and then back to him, ‘It’s getting late and I’ve got work early in the morning. I’d appreciate it if you could keep this short.’

  Zafir inspected the bland expression on Kat’s face. For a moment he’d caught a glimpse of something much more fiery, but it was gone now. She seemed to be determined to treat him as if he was someone she hadn’t been intimately acquainted with. Soon, Zafir vowed, they would be intimately acquainted again, and she’d be moaning his name in ecstasy as her release threw them both over the edge and purged him of this ache.

  He forced his mind out of his fantasies with effort and said, ‘Did you even listen to the proposition I sent your agent?’

  Kat shook her head, a long tendril of hair dropping from the knot on top of her head to curl around her neck. Zafir wanted to undo her hair and let it fall in a luxurious curtain down her naked back, the way it had before. He gritted his jaw at the image. This was ridiculous—he could barely conduct a coherent conversation without X-rated images flooding his mind.

  Calling on every ounce of control he possessed, he said, ‘What I’m proposing is a modelling assignment—’

  He stopped and put up his hand as soon as he saw Kat’s mouth open, presumably to protest. She closed it again, her lush lips compressing into a tight line. Zafir ignored the pulse throbbing in his groin.

  He tried another tack. ‘You might recall me telling you once about the famed missing jewel, the Heart of Jandor, the biggest red diamond in the world?’

  Kat tensed opposite him, and then he saw a flush tinge her cheeks pink as if she too was remembering that moment—lying in her bed in Jahor, her limbs sprawled over his in sated abandon as he’d told her the story of the gem. He’d had to sneak into her rooms like a teenager, even though they’d been unofficially engaged at the time. His people would have bee
n scandalised by such liaisons.

  Kat had lifted her head from his chest and said huskily, ‘That’s so romantic... I hope they find it some day.’

  Zafir could recall how a vague feeling of dread mixed with fear had washed over him on hearing the wistful tone in Kat’s voice, and how he’d felt the urge to say something, anything, to take the dreamy look from her eyes, to tell her that such a thing as romance had no place in his life. Duty trumped emotion. Always. There would be no room for romance when he became King and she was Queen.

  But then she’d reached up and kissed him...and he couldn’t remember anything else.

  ‘I remember something...vaguely,’ she said tightly now, and Zafir desisted from arguing that she clearly remembered very well.

  There was a curt edge to his voice after that memory. ‘They found the diamond recently, during an archaeological dig. It was a cause of much celebration and my people have seen it as a good omen for the future.’

  Kat’s hands were clasped in her lap. ‘I’m very happy for you...and them...but I fail to see what this has to do with me.’

  Zafir said carefully, ‘It has everything to do with you, Kat, because I’ve chosen you to be the model who will wear the diamond on our worldwide diplomatic tour to promote Jandor.’

  * * *

  The sheer arrogance of Zafir’s pronouncement rendered Kat speechless for a moment. And then she spluttered, ‘But that’s ridiculous. I’m working here. I have a life here. I have no intention of going anywhere with you.’

  Zafir stood up, and as if she hadn’t spoken he said, ‘It’s a very select tour. The first function is the evening after tomorrow, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Then we and the diamond go to London, then Paris and then back to Jandor, where it will be put on permanent display.’

  Kat stood up, quivering all over with volatile emotions. ‘There is no we in this, Zafir.’

  ‘If it had gone according to my plan, then, yes, I agree—I would have no need of you. But my chief aide came up with the idea of showing off the diamond in an infinitely more accessible way—instead of keeping it in a sterile environment, we will display it on a beautiful woman and have her meet and greet specially selected guests with us at each function, so that they can see how the gem really glows with a life force. It will bring the gem—and Jandor—alive.’

  Kat folded her arms against the terrifying thought of people clamouring around her, too close, staring at her, pawing at her to get to the stone. One of the side effects of the accident she’d been involved in was that she felt claustrophobic in certain situations where she felt trapped.

  She shook her head. ‘No way, Zafir. I’m not interested. And surely if this is to promote your country, then you should be using a model from Jandor.’

  Kat saw the steely glint in Zafir’s eyes. It meant that he’d most likely anticipated every one of her arguments and was ready to counter them.

  ‘We don’t yet have a modelling agency in Jandor, but we do have aspiring fashion designers who are eager to showcase some of their designs during this tour. Also, I want someone who has the poise and grace of an experienced model—and they don’t come more experienced than you.’

  Feeling desperate, she said, ‘There are a million models just as experienced as me—if not more.’ A hint of bitterness crept into her voice. ‘Models who don’t come with negative baggage. If I appear in public with you as Kat Winters, the press will have a field day and all those stories will get raked up again.’

  Kat sent up silent thanks now that their break-up had occurred before the official public announcement of their engagement had been made.

  ‘Yes, they might,’ he conceded, ‘and I’ve considered that. But I have an excellent PR team, who will field any of the old stories and drown them out with this new one. Resurrecting Kat Winters to wear the most famous rediscovered gem in the world will be an irresistible story.’

  Kat went cold inside as the full extent of Zafir’s cool calculation sank in. Her involvement would be purely to provide an angle. Something to fire up the headlines even at the expense of negativity. Everything Zafir was outlining was literally her worst nightmare. She felt panicky. She wasn’t prepared to step back into the world of Kat Winters again—not for anyone.

  She shook her head. ‘The answer is no, Zafir. Now, please leave. I’m tired.’

  But of course Zafir didn’t turn around to leave, much as Kat wished he would. Even as she felt the betraying hum of awareness that flowed like illicit nectar through her blood.

  ‘Obviously I wouldn’t expect you to do this for free, Kat. I would be willing to pay handsomely for one of the world’s most sought-after and elusive models. I’m well aware of the fees you once commanded, and as your credit history shows a lack of ability to hang on to your earnings, it looks like you’re not really in a position to turn down such a lucrative contract.’

  He illustrated his point with a sweeping glance around her studio apartment.

  Kat’s hands curled into fists. Of all the patronising—She stopped just as she was about to blurt something out. Something that would make those far too incisive eyes narrow on her and make him start asking questions again.

  It was the last thing she wanted to bring up, but she had to. Maybe it was the thing that would finally push Zafir to leave. ‘Have you considered the speculation that would inevitably be sparked about us again?’

  He waited a beat and then said, ‘Yes, I have, and I see no harm in it—not when it’s likely to be confined to the duration of the tour and then it’ll die away again.’

  There was a rough quality to Zafir’s voice that sent a rush of awareness through Kat’s blood—as if her body was already reacting to some secret signal. For a moment she couldn’t really comprehend the way he was suddenly so watchful, but then it sank in with horrifying clarity.

  ‘You can’t seriously mean for us to—’ She stopped, afraid to speak the words out loud. Afraid to make herself look a fool again. Afraid she might be right.

  Afraid she might be wrong.

  ‘Can’t seriously mean for us to what, Kat?’

  Zafir moved closer and she was rooted to the spot. He stopped within reaching distance, the harsh lighting of her apartment doing nothing to leach away any of his sheer gorgeousness.

  ‘I can’t seriously mean for us to be together again?’

  Kat looked at him, horrified and excited in equal measure. She half shook and nodded her head.

  Zafir’s face suddenly took on a harsh aspect. ‘That’s exactly what I mean. I want you back in my bed, Kat. We have unfinished business. When you walked out—’

  ‘You mean when you cast me aside!’ Anger flooded Kat’s veins again, giving her the impetus to move back out of Zafir’s dangerous proximity, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.

  ‘We’re not going to rake over that ground again,’ Zafir said harshly. ‘Suffice it to say that our engagement might have been over—there was no way I could have presented you as my future Queen after those headlines and pictures—but our relationship didn’t have to be over.’

  Shock mixed with affront, and hurt poured through Kat, making her tremble. She was back in time, standing before Zafir in far more luxurious surroundings saying incredulously, ‘You don’t love me.’

  He’d slashed a hand through the air. ‘This isn’t about love, Kat. It’s never been about love. It’s about mutual respect and desire and the fact that I believed—mistakenly—that you were the perfect choice to be my wife and future Queen.’

  ‘Perfect...’ She’d half-whispered it to herself, never hating a word as much as she had then.

  Her whole life she’d been told she had to be perfect. To win the next competition. To get the commercial over the other pretty girl. To get enough money to save her mother... Except she’d failed—miserably.

  She’d looked at Zafir and said in a hollow voice, ‘Well, I’m not perfect, Zafir. Far from it.’

  And she’d walked out, leaving her engagement ring on the hall table. And now she was glad—because clearly he would have demoted her from the position of future wife, but kept her in his life as his mistress.