Sylvie made an awkward move and landed heavily on her foot. Damn. Damn him for invading her thoughts.
She bent down over her foot, but thankfully she hadn't strained it. They were close to the opening night for the relaunch of the club-Pierre would never forgive her if she injured herself now...especially when she wasn't even practising the revue's routines.
She stood up straight in front of the long mirror that spanned one whole wall and stretched her neck. She was about to start at the beginning again when she saw something move, and she looked towards where the door was reflected in the mirror to see a big dark shape.
Arkim.
This was really getting to be too much. Now she was seeing things. She blinked. But he didn't go away.
The door was pushed open and he walked in. Dressed in dark trousers and a light shirt, sleeves rolled up, top button open. As if he'd just strolled in from a nearby office.
Slowly, eyes widening, Sylvie turned around, half expecting him not to be there when she faced him. But he was. He was real.
To her utter horror she felt a welling of emotion: a mixture of anger, relief and the sheer need to run to him and wrap herself so tightly around him he wouldn't be able to breathe.
She took a deep, steadying breath, and curled her hands into fists. Had she already forgotten the brutality with which he'd let her go that day at the oasis? Coldly. Summarily.
Praying her voice wouldn't betray her, and lamenting her less than pristine physical state, she said coolly,'Hello, Arkim.'
'Hello, Sylvie.'
That voice. His voice. It reached inside her and squeezed tight. She remembered him saying Sylvie with a guttural groan as his climax had made his whole body go taut over hers.
'I can't imagine that you were just passing.'
Arkim put his hands in his pockets and walked into the room, his every step gracefully athletic. Masculine. He was clean-shaven. And he'd had a haircut.
He was still quite simply the most astoundingly handsome man she'd ever seen.
He stopped a couple of feet away. Close enough for his scent to tickle her nostrils and for her body to go into meltdown at his proximity. Her heart seemed to have been in shock, because it started again at about triple its normal rate.
'No, I wasn't just passing. I came especially. To see you.'
She dampened down the surge of excitement. Her hurt at the way he'd sent her off was still acute. She lifted her chin.'Why? Did I leave something behind?'
Arkim's face was impassive, but she saw a muscle work in his jaw. His throat moved. Sylvie could have spent hours just studying every minute part of his olive-skinned anatomy. She had.
'You could say that. Me.'
Her eyes clashed with the darkest brown. Incredulity made her mouth gape before she found the wherewithal to say,'I left you behind?'
'Yes...' he breathed, and moved even closer.
His eyes were roving hungrily over her now, making a hot flush spread out all over Sylvie's body from between her legs. This man had changed her utterly, in so many ways. So much so that the minute Pierre had seen her again the older patriarchal man had looked her up and down and said accusingly,'Something's different...what's happened to you?'
Sylvie had been mortified beyond belief to think that someone might be able to see what had happened to her. But she could feel it even when she danced. A new awareness of her body...her sexuality.
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Arkim, the architect of all of this. His eyes met hers again and she saw the fire in them. But before she could say anything-not even sure what she wanted to say-he asked,'What was that dancing you were just doing? It was different to the way you danced for me.'
Taken aback, Sylvie said,'It's something I'm working on for my contemporary dance class.'
'I liked it...it was beautiful.'
And just like that Sylvie's jagged emotions stopped pricking her.'You did?'
Arkim reached out and touched a loose tendril of hair. He nodded.'You looked as if you were lost in another world.'
She was finding it hard to breathe.'I choreographed the dance.'
It was only when she said it that she felt totally exposed. A lot of that dance had been born out of the pain she'd felt for the past month.
She stepped back and his hand fell away. His eyes flashed. Still the same arrogant Arkim. And what had he meant when he'd said she'd left him behind?
'What do you want, Arkim? I haven't finished practising, and I only have this space for another twenty minutes.'
'I want to talk to you. And I have something for you at my apartment.'
'Your apartment?'
'I have an apartment here in Paris. I'm working here for the next few weeks-in my Paris office.'
Of course he had an office and an apartment here. He would.
But still, she resisted.'Why, Arkim? Why do we have to talk? I think we said everything, don't you? Or you certainly did, anyway.'
He looked for a moment, as if he didn't want to say anything, but then he did.'Your sister came to see me... I know, Sylvie.'
Sylvie could feel her blood draining south so quickly that she swayed. Immediately Arkim's hand was on her arm. To her awful shame, her first thought was not of Sophie but of the fact that Arkim hadn't come because he wanted her back at all...
'Sophie...came to see you?' Sylvie was vaguely aware that her phone had been off all day during rehearsals, so she'd been uncontactable.
He nodded. Grim.'Look, finish your practice. I'll wait, and then you'll come with me...yes?'
There was no way Sylvie could focus now. She'd break her ankle. And that was just at the thought of Arkim waiting for her. She shook her head.'No, I'll change now and come with you.'
She had no choice. She had to know what Sophie's visit to him meant. And that was all Arkim wanted to talk to her about. As long as she remembered that she'd be okay.
He let her go.'I'll wait for you downstairs. My car is at the door.'
* * *
As Arkim waited in the back of his chauffeur-driven car he couldn't dampen down the swell of triumph...or the swell of his erection. His whole body had gone on fire as soon as he'd seen Sylvie through the door...her lithe dancer's body moving with such grace and power...in a way he'd never seen before. Beautiful, elegant...passionate. He'd been mesmerised. In awe. In lust.
She'd looked wary at seeing him again, even though he'd felt the resurgence of the powerful sexual connection between them. Yet could he blame her for being wary? He'd behaved like an idiot that last day at the oasis... He'd been acting on a knee-jerk reflex to get rid of Sylvie before she slid herself even more indelibly under his skin...but it had been too late.
He had to concede that even if Sophie hadn't come-
His thoughts stopped working as Sylvie walked out through the door, her vibrant hair tied back in a knot-damp from a shower? She wore faded skinny jeans that showed her long legs off to perfection, ballet flats and a loose off-the-shoulder T-shirt, with the straps of a vest visible underneath. Her skin was pale again...like a pearl.
Arkim let his driver get out to open the door for her. He literally couldn't move for fear of making a complete idiot of himself.
When she slid into the back seat on the other side she didn't look at him, putting her slouchy bag firmly on her lap as she strapped her seat belt on. Arkim wanted to reach across and force her to meet his eyes, force her to know how much he wanted her before he crushed that soft mouth under his and found some sense of peace for the first time in a month.
A flutter of panic at the strength of how much he wanted her made his gut tighten. How relieved he'd been as soon as he'd laid eyes on her...
Sylvie Devereux was still completely wrong for him on so many levels. This was lust. Pure and simple. Unprecedented, but not without its sell-by date.
Then she looked at him with those wide eyes, blue and blue-green, and Arkim's thoughts scattered to pieces.
'Why did Sophie come to see you?'
Arkim dragged his brain back into some kind of functioning order.'She told me everything.'
CHAPTER NINE
THE CAR WAS moving at a snail's pace in the early-evening Paris traffic as Arkim's words sank in. And even though Sylvie was preoccupied by what he was saying, and what it meant, she was acutely aware of that big, powerful body so close to hers. Legs spread, chest broad.
She had to get it together. Sophie. Hesitantly she asked,'When you say "everything", do you mean-?'
'I mean,' Arkim said, cutting her off,'I know that she's gay, Sylvie. She told me everything. About how she was afraid to come out. About how she was railroaded into marriage by her parents because they thought it would sweeten the deal for me. I'd made no attempt to hide the fact that I wanted to settle in England, and I wasn't averse to settling down with a suitable wife.'
The kind of wife who would remove Arkim permanently from his sordid past... Sylvie thought to herself, with a lurch of pain near her heart.