She knew her voice sounded husky and when her eyes met his she couldn’t hold his stare. What was she doing here in this room with him? More importantly, what was he doing in this room with her and Nadeena? She felt self-conscious and it was all too easy to remember how it felt to have him at her breast, drawing her aching nipple deep into his mouth. All too easy to recall the pleasure that had turned her into an incoherent puppet for him to master at his will.
When she continued to hesitate and Nadeena grew restless Nadir pivoted on his foot and stalked to the long windows overlooking some sort of dense green park that most likely belonged to him as well. Imogen quickly arranged her T-shirt and Nadeena latched on like a baby that had never fed before.
‘When were you going to tell me I had fathered a child, Imogen?’ His quiet question held a wealth of judgement and loathing behind it and Imogen felt as if someone had just dropped an icy blanket around her shoulders.
She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t because all of a sudden she felt horribly guilty about the fact that she had never intended to tell him. And hot on the heels of her unexpected guilt rode anger. Anger she welcomed with open arms. He was the one who had run away when he’d learned she was pregnant, not her. He was the one who had made it clear that he didn’t want a baby in his life when she had felt such a rush of elation at the time she had almost grinned at him like a loon. Then she’d seen his stricken face and her world had fallen apart.
A sound like a low growl came from deep in Nadir’s throat and he towered over her. ‘Never? Is that the word that is at this moment stuck in your throat, habibi?’
‘Don’t call me that,’ Imogen growled back, unable to contain her rioting emotions.
‘It’s preferable to what I want to call you, believe me.’
Imogen had never seen Nadir angry before and he was magnificent with it. Fierce and proud and so powerful.
She swallowed, hating that she still found him so utterly attractive. ‘How dare you come over like the injured party in this scenario?’ she snapped. She was the one who had been as sick as a dog carrying Nadeena. She was the one who had been all alone in the birthing suite as Nadeena had come into the world. She was the one who struggled day to day with the demands of motherhood and putting food in their mouths. And she had asked for nothing from him. Absolutely nothing. ‘I have done very well for myself since you left my life,’ she said, her body vibrating with tension. ‘I have survived very well on my own. I’ve eked out a life for myself and Nadeena is healthy. She’s happy and—’
‘Nadeena?’
Imogen’s eyes squeezed shut and her temper deflated when he repeated the baby’s name. His irreverent tone somehow made her remember how lonely she had felt when Nadir had walked away from her. She’d felt lonely before, of course, but with Nadir she had felt as if she had got a glimpse—a taste—of paradise, only to have it snatched away when she was least prepared.
Powerful memories surged again and she couldn’t look at him. ‘Why am I here, Nadir?’
He didn’t say anything, his eyes troubled as they made contact with her own. He leant against the cherry wood dining table, his gaze riveted to Nadeena, kneading her T-shirt like a contented cat, his silence drawing out the moment. Drawing out her nerves until they lay just beneath the fine layer of her skin like freshly tuned guitar strings. ‘Why is there no public record of her birth?’
Bewildered by both the flat tenor of his voice and the unexpected question, Imogen frowned. ‘There is.’
His gaze sharpened and she could see his agile mind turning. ‘Under what name?’