"Her actions deserve to be judged. I look like a fool. If you had had an actual affair with that man last year, I wouldn't care." That was a small lie, but he would be able to convince himself he didn't care. "The fact you've been photographed with both of us in the same week makes all three of us look bad."
"We're all going to have to grin and bear it, aren't we?"
"No," he told her sternly. "You warned me about attention. You didn't say your sister would ridicule me. I will give her the chance to come clean. If she doesn't, I will make the completely true statement that you were with me in London all of last weekend."
"No!" Her fists hit the air next to her thighs, arms straight and angry. "Don't do that to her."
"I didn't take the photographs, Angelique. She's bringing this on herself!"
"It could do so much damage, you can't even comprehend." She paced with agitation across the lounge. "The press was horrible to her for years after the kidnapping, printing every lurid scrap, fact or fiction, on what happened while she was captive. True or not, those things assaulted her every time, victimizing her again and again. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, they called her unstable and a drug addict and fat. She was barely a stone heavier than me, but there was this magnifying glass on her so she couldn't buy a stick of gum without it being a cry for help, or a sign she was suicidal... It drove her to go the other way, until she was underweight and we were scared she would disappear completely. I'll tell you, if anything is designed to break a person's spirit, it's that sort of relentless, vicious criticism."
She paused to take a few panting breaths. Her face contorted in a wince of distant memory.
"Then, after my father's funeral... I guess we finally looked like young women by then. It's not like we were dressed for clubbing, you know, but photos circulated of us at the service and men stalked both of us online after that, saying the most disgusting things. Sending us-" She waved a hand toward her crotch. "Those sorts of pics. It was even worse for Trella. She knew what men like that are capable of." Her voice broke on the last words, eyes haunted.
"Angelique," he breathed, and started toward her.
She bent to unfasten her shoes and kick them away, then kept moving, restless with heightened emotion, dress swirling like a cape each time she turned.
"She started having panic attacks because of it. That is not public knowledge." She pointed at him as though warning him not to speak of it. Then she whirled away again. "She was terrified all the time. It was horrible for her. For all of us. It was like watching someone who is depressed to the point of being suicidal, or in chronic pain, and listening to them scream. You can't do anything except sit there and watch. She spent, God, a good two years stoned on medications, trying to get it under control. Finally she left the public eye and it took a while, but she was able to stabilize. That was so hard-won, none of us rocks the boat. We don't want to throw her off again."
She hugged herself, gaze fixed on the past.
"For years, one of us has always been with her, never farther than the next room. We all know it's not healthy. We want a normal life for her. Our version of normal, anyway," she muttered, then waved with exasperation toward the guards in the hall.
"Even Trella is balking at how she lives. I just asked her how this happened and she told me she feels like she's been doing time on a prison sentence for a crime she didn't commit. What did she do wrong, Kasim? Are her kidnappers half so tortured? They might be in jail, but have they suffered one-tenth as much as she has? And even through all of what she has faced, she tries."
Her eyes were wet and gleaming. She was visibly shaking with intense emotion, making his heart feel pinched and tight.
"She's been trying so hard to get over all her mental blocks. She flew to Paris alone. You have no idea what a big deal that was for her. And then, when she realized you and I were keeping out of the spotlight and I was expected at that dinner, she stole the chance to go out as me. To see how she felt going out alone. It was a spur-of-the moment thing, which is exactly like her when she's at her best. In certain ways this is such thrilling news."
She began pacing again, her dress flaring around her as she pivoted, but halted to press a hand to her brow.
"Not the part where she went home with a stranger, of course. I asked her how that happened, but she didn't want to talk about it, only apologized for not telling him who she really was. My brothers are going to kill me for not being there to stop her."
Kasim folded his arms, observing drily, "She took acting like you to the highest level, didn't she?"
Angelique jerked her head up, eyes narrowed with antipathy. "I had dinner with you first!"
They hadn't even finished their drinks, let alone started on the appetizers, but okay.
"That has to be me in those photos, Kasim. If the press gets wind that it was her..." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Trella is a tiny baby sea turtle making her way to the water. If we can just give her time to get there before unleashing the crabs and gulls..."
He snorted. "Laying it on pretty thick, aren't you?"
"What do you want me to say? That it's okay if you traumatize my sister by causing the hell of public attention to rain down on her again? It's not."
"What do you want me to say? That it's okay if the world thinks you've slept with both of us? It's not."
"Who cares so long as you're the one in this room with me tonight? Or, wait, am I invited to stay in the room I booked for myself?"
He scowled. "Don't get bent out of shape about that. I don't book weekends with women then ask them to foot the bill."
"I see. That's interesting." She gave a considering nod, shoulders setting in a stiff line. "You realize that by mentioning these legions of other women for whom you have paid hotel bills, you're saying it's okay that you have a past, but not me. Is that what you were doing this week, by the way? When you were not texting me? Paying for hotel rooms with other women? Just because no one returned a cuff link downstairs doesn't mean you weren't making a fool of me, but do you hear me complaining? No. Because I'm well aware we haven't made any commitments to each other-"
"Enough," he cut in. "I paid for the room because I will put up with your pain-in-the-ass security protocols, but you will stay in my room. I will not ask permission from your guards to enter. As for the photos, I don't want people to think that's you because I'm jealous. All right? Is that what you need to hear?"
Her shoulders went back, but he could see he had finally pulled her out of her own interests into theirs.
"Which I might have hesitated to admit if you weren't acting like a green-eyed shrew yourself. No, Angelique, I was not sleeping with other women. I was working. Nonstop. So I could come here and be with you. Future or not, we are damned well exclusive to one another until we're over. Is that clear? Now, go warn your sister I won't be so forgiving if she does this to me again."
The line of her mouth softened. "You're not going to expose her?"
"Do I look like someone who takes pleasure in feeding baby sea turtles to the gulls?"
She threw herself at him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ANGELIQUE GLIMPSED THE velvet box on the romantically set table when she arrived at Kasim's Paris penthouse.
She was getting to know him very well, but wouldn't have pegged him as a man who celebrated a one-month anniversary. His sentimentalism touched her. It told her he valued what they had as deeply as she did.
"We're staying in tonight?" she asked as she kissed him without even taking off her jacket or setting down her purse.
He had already shed his suit jacket and tasted faintly of Scotch and...tension? He lingered over their kiss, drawing it out with a quest for her response, waiting until they were both breathless and hot before drawing back.
"Do you mind?"
"No." She tossed her purse toward the sofa then hugged her arms around his waist again. Nestled her mons into his hardness, pleased with the evidence his desire wasn't letting up any more than hers. "It's been a long week. I missed you. I'd rather have you all to myself."
"Me, too." His voice was sincere, but...off. He started to pull her into another kiss.
She hesitated. "Are you angry?"
A flash in his eyes, then, "Not at you."
He combed his fingers into her hair and gently pinned her head back, so her neck was arched, her chin tilted up for the press of his damp lips. The stamp of hot kisses went down her throat, making her skin tighten and tingle.
"And you can't talk about it so you want to forget it. Perhaps I can help with that," she allowed with another press of her hips into his groin. It was her cross to bear that she was the lover of a man with great responsibilities.