Pursued by the Desert Prince(13)

Angelique had been so proud, she'd had a little cry about it, which had  made Trella laugh and hug her and call her their sensitive little Gili.

Nevertheless, Angelique felt guilty for leaving. Trella was very safe.  Situated on the top floor of the design house, the Paris flat was  ultra-secure. Seamstresses and other staff came and went from the lower  floors, working into the night if the mood took, but the flat had its  own entrance, a panic room and a private passage to the office.

Trella had been very heartfelt in her plea for Angelique to do something for herself for a change.

I've held you back too long, Trella had insisted, then added with a sly  look, Besides, I'm curious about Henri and Cinnia. See what you can find  out.

Angelique had laughed at that, but if Trella had a setback, she would never forgive herself.

Deep down, however, she was anxious to see Kasim again. It was a foreign  state of mind for her. After Trella's experience, she'd spent her  adolescence wary of boys and sex. When she finally started to date, she  had been hard-pressed to find men who measured up to the standards her  father and brothers had set. When her suitors had fallen off because her  life was too restrictive, or proved to be social climbers or other  opportunists, she'd been annoyed and disappointed, but never truly hurt.

She had never been taken with any man. None had engaged her feelings  very deeply and she had never, ever, allowed a man to come between her  and her family.

In some ways, she was terrified of the influence Kasim was having on  her. He fascinated her and thus had power over her. He was confident and  secure in himself, almost brutally honest, but that lack of subterfuge  was as seductive as the rest of him.

And oh, did he seduce! From a physical standpoint, she was completely  infatuated. Her blood raced as she silently willed the driver into  London after the family jet landed at the private airfield.

She hadn't given Trella many details about her evening with Kasim, but  her sister had said with a sensual lift of her own hair, I know you  slept with him. Don't deny it. I'm kind of jealous, actually. In a good  way. It makes me realize what I'm missing.

That had made Angelique very self-conscious, but she knew Trella was  interpreting her body language. They had the same expressions and  mannerisms so even though Angelique could disguise her thoughts and  feelings from many, her sister would read the indolent stretch or the  warmed cheek and soft gaze of pleasant memory without effort.

Trella didn't tease her for it, and when Angelique studied Trella, she  saw nothing but determination in her sister at being left alone this  evening.

Kasim had been right about Angelique suffering survivor's guilt. She  wondered if it was the reason she had given up so easily on her previous  relationships. Being happy when her sister had been struggling had  always felt incredibly disloyal.

She still felt disloyal, haring off to London to be with a man, but it  was only one night, she told herself. Kasim hadn't promised anything  else and neither had she for that matter, even though she felt a  yearning for more.

Not that she'd defined exactly what "more" would be. The artist in her  appreciated that whatever they had was too new and special for close  examination. Deconstruction could kill it. Sometimes you had to go with  instinct, then determine after the fact what you had.

Was this instinct? Or greed and selfishness? Or old-fashioned blindness to obvious facts?

Exactly the type of scrutiny she had to avoid, she thought with a stifled sigh.

Whatever it was, it drew her inexorably. Her pulse was racing over a  single text from Kasim, promising to meet her at her brother's flat  within the hour.

It was actually the family flat. Knowing Henri was in New York,  Angelique assumed Cinnia was staying in her own flat, but texted her as a  courtesy, mentioning that she was in town and asking if Cinnia wanted  to get together for a meal.         

     



 

Cinnia's reply came through as Angelique was letting herself in. It was a  simple regret that she was staying with her mother and was sorry she  had missed the chance to visit.

Angelique put her bag in the room she and Trella used, checked that  there was a decent bottle of wine in the fridge and moved restlessly  into the lounge, wondering if she and Kasim were going out for dinner  and if so, where? What should she wear?

Paparazzi. Ugh, she thought with another sigh, but for once she wasn't  filled with as much dread as usual. She would have hated to have her  night with Kasim reduced by the online trolls to a one-night stand,  sullied and mocked, even though she'd gone to his room last night  convinced it would be only that.

Having this affair extend into a second night made it feel-Well, it  still felt so rare and precious she wanted to guard it jealously, but  she was so thrilled to see him again, she was willing to pay the price.

"Oh, no," she murmured, jerked from introspection as she caught sight of the coffee table.

A courier envelope had been torn open and the contents spilled out. It  was at least a hundred thousand euros in jewelry, probably more. It  looked like the contents of Ali Baba's cave, glittering and sparkling  innocently against the glass tabletop.

Angelique sat down hard on the sofa, chest tight. She thought about  texting Trella, but Henri was the most private of all of them. He would  kill her if he knew she had seen this. She couldn't share it like tawdry  gossip, not even with Trella.

But what had gone wrong?

Henri was adamant in his decision never to marry, but he and Cinnia had  seemed so good together. Angelique would have bet real money that Cinnia  genuinely loved him. How had those tender feelings become something as  harsh as throwing his gifts back in his face?

It was a cool, disturbing reminder that relationships fell into one of  two categories: those with a future and those that ended. Her heart  chilled, starkly confronted with the kind she had with Kasim.

There wouldn't be a moment of callous rejection between them, though.  Not like this. She and Kasim were never going to spend two years  together the way Henri had with Cinnia.

Upset for Henri and Cinnia-and disturbed on her own behalf-she pushed  the jewelry into the envelope, but the artist in her was drawn to  examine the tennis bracelet. She'd never taken a proper look at it. It  was a string of alternating pink and white diamonds, one Cinnia had  always seemed to be wearing. Angelique was really shocked she'd given it  up, especially now that she saw how exquisite it really was. The  craftsmanship in the setting was extraordinary. She searched it for an  insignia that might tell her where it had come from.

When the door opened behind her, she stood with surprise, expecting  Maurice, but it was Kasim. She had told Maurice to expect him, but had  thought she'd have to ring him through the main doors downstairs before  he would appear up here.

"How did you get in the building?" she asked as she moved to meet him, flushing uncontrollably with instant pleasure.

His mouth tilted with a hint of smugness, as if he read her infatuation  and knew how slowly the minutes had passed for her before seeing him  again. It was disconcerting, making her feel defenseless and obvious,  but she still found herself crossing toward him, tugged by an invisible  lasso around her middle.

He waited for the door to shut before he hooked his arm around her and kissed her.

It was proprietary and given how fleeting this affair was likely to be,  she should be keeping better control over herself, but her heart soared.  She quickly melted into him, instantly transported to the languorous  memories of last night and anticipation for more of the same incredible  pleasure he'd delivered.

"You missed me," he said when he drew back.

"You didn't miss me?" She tried to sound blasé, tried to pull away, but  she was hyperaware of how needy that sounded. How completely easy she  was being.

His hand slid to her tailbone and pressed her hips into his enough that  she felt how he was reacting to her. "I've been thinking about you," he  allowed.

Fluttery joy invaded her abdomen and she tried not to reveal how quickly and thoroughly he'd bowled her over.

"Good to know," she said lightly. "But I am genuinely curious how you  got into the building. It's supposed to be locked down for residents  only."

"It is. I was given the codes when I bought my flat this morning. Shall  we go look at it?" He finally released her and stepped toward the door  with a low wave for her to accompany him.

"You-you bought a unit in this building this morning?" She had grown up  with wealth, but they only owned a flat here because her father had  bought it during the design stage, just before his death. The address  was obscenely exclusive with a wait list a mile long of international  dignitaries and techno-billionaires trying to get in.         

     



 

Perhaps she had underestimated how wealthy and powerful Kasim was. The cost to jump queue must have been exorbitant.

"It's a good investment. My mother likes London," he said with a shrug.  "She'll use it if I don't. Mostly I thought you'd appreciate the  privacy. By some miracle, there is nothing online about us. I thought  we'd celebrate our lack of infamy by staying in and extending our lucky  streak. I've ordered dinner to be delivered in a couple of hours."