Seduced by the Sultan(17)
He walked over to where she sat on the window seat, before bending down to brush his lips over hers. ‘You know that I would prefer to spend the evening here with you and only you—but this meeting is important. And it gives me an invaluable opportunity to talk football—since nobody appreciates the sport as much as an Italian.’
‘Which I agree is much too good an opportunity to pass up,’ she said. ‘If only I could remember the offside rule, then maybe I could talk football, too.’
He relaxed a little as he saw that her uncharacteristic sulk was already subsiding, and he tangled his fingers in the silky fall of her hair. ‘I’d love to see Da Conti’s face if you started talking about the offside rule! And if I can’t persuade you to rub me dry, then I guess I’d better go and get dressed. I won’t be long.’
Catrin sat staring into space while Murat changed and he reappeared just as the peal of the doorbell echoed through the apartment. Outside the heavily fortified door stood two bodyguards, who accompanied them down in the elevator. Murat’s bullet-proof car was waiting in the street, with a second vehicle ready to follow close behind. The whole operation happened with a swift smoothness which Catrin now took for granted.
Her lover had riches beyond the dreams of most men, but it was difficult to get to do anything ‘normal’ with him. Going anywhere meant having a whole team of accompanying guards, which always made people stare. The only place where they could be really private was tucked away inside his apartment. He told her that he’d eaten in fancy restaurants all his life and they bored him. That he’d rather spend time alone with her. At the time his declaration had flattered her, but now she was beginning to wonder whether she should have asked for more.
Catrin frowned. Had she been crazy to settle for what he had offered her—or rather, for what he hadn’t offered her? Had she secretly been thinking that one day he might change his mind about love and marriage?
‘We’re here,’ said Murat, his voice breaking her racing thoughts as the car drew up outside a discreet restaurant.
It was one of those places so full of important people that few arrivals warranted a second glance. Murat did, of course—but Catrin was used to him drawing the eye wherever they went. She guessed his raw sex appeal, coupled with the unconscious arrogance which accompanied royal power, made for a pretty irresistible combination.
She felt increasingly edgy as they began to walk through the restaurant, where Niccolo Da Conti was already seated at a table towards the back of the room. Catrin could see a man with ruffled dark hair and a lazy smile, leaning back while a waiter poured him a glass of champagne. Close beside him was a long-legged blonde, wearing a tiny dress of silver mesh, which gleamed against the caramel glow of her skin. Her glossy silver fingernails were splayed possessively over one of Niccolo’s thighs, as if they were glued to that hard and muscular surface.
Catrin was smiling as they approached the table, but her lingering disquiet was making her palms grow clammy. Calm down, she told herself fiercely. Nothing has changed. Everything is just the way it has always been.
‘Murat,’ said Niccolo Da Conti, shaking off the blonde as he rose to his feet, his two hands outstretched in greeting. ‘How is my favourite Middle-Eastern potentate? Would you like me to bow?’
‘I would much rather you didn’t.’ Murat laughed. ‘Two of my bodyguards are seated discreetly a few tables away and they like me to remain as incognito as possible.’
‘You, incognito? I don’t think so. Every eye in the place was on you from the moment you walked in. I’ve never known it to be any different.’ Niccolo turned and smiled. ‘And you must be Catrin. I can’t believe we haven’t met before—but I believe Murat keeps you tucked away so that nobody else can get close. Looking at you now, I can see exactly why. It’s good to meet you.’