Prince Nadir's Secret Heir(39)
Imogen trembled and knew he felt it by the satisfied gleam that seemed to soften his gaze. ‘I’ve never stopped wanting you, Imogen, and that kiss back in my apartment proves we share an incredibly strong chemistry. Why fight it?’
Realising with a pang that she was held captive under his unwanted spell, Imogen wrenched herself out of his hold and swung away from him. Embarrassed at how easily she became enthralled by him, how easily she succumbed to his words, his touch, she let anger at him, at herself, at the whole world take hold. ‘You want to know why?’ She squared off in front of him. ‘Because, no matter what happens, I have no intention of marrying you and because, despite what you believe, a marriage based on sex will always be weak.’
‘Perhaps. But you’re a smart girl and you must realise that a marriage based on mutual chemistry and shared interests has strength.’
Imogen didn’t feel very smart right now. She felt wrung out and beaten. ‘And what do you think that we share, Nadir?’ she all but spat at him, desperate to lash out at him in any way that she could. Desperate to alleviate the giant ball of emotion welling up inside her and threatening to burst right out of her. ‘That could possibly hold a marriage between us together?’
She slapped her hands on her hips and waited for his response but she should have known that he’d have an answer poised on his lips that would floor her. She should have known that a man whose negotiation skills in the business world were second to none would have something up his sleeve to make her feel as big as a thimble.
‘Nadeena.’ He paused to let his words sink in. ‘We have Nadeena.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
AFTER WAITING FOR Zach inside the council chambers for nearly an hour it was safe to say that Nadir was now extremely irritated. Yes, he’d managed to field a few important work calls while he waited but there was only so much he could get done from a country with limited Internet resources.
He also needed to sort things out with Imogen but she’d steadfastly avoided him all morning and frankly he hadn’t tried that hard to challenge her on it. Last night’s discussion—hell, argument—had played heavily on his mind and made sleep impossible.
Before picking her up yesterday he’d expected to find that she’d aborted his baby, mainly, it had to be said, because she hadn’t approached him for a truckload of money and for a while yesterday he’d continued to think that maybe she was somehow playing him for a fool. He’d continued to believe that she had run from him because she’d had something to hide.
He didn’t think that now. She was too earnest in her attempts to get him to change his mind about their marriage. Too earnest in her belief that he had been the one to do the wrong thing by her and not the other way around.
* * *
He recalled her fierce expression when she’d mentioned his text. At the time he hadn’t contemplated the possibility that she would be upset by it. He hadn’t contemplated the possibility that she would feel abandoned by his return to New York and feel as if she had to deal with her pregnancy alone. Guilt knifed through him.
He supposed, if he was honest, he’d been mostly to blame because he hadn’t communicated his feelings to her, but how the hell was he supposed to have done that when he didn’t know how he had been feeling?
Dealing with emotions had never been his strong suit, even before his mother and sister had died.
He remembered his mother encouraging him to embrace that side of his nature and his father telling him it was dangerous and it had been his father who had been proved right.