She pressed her lips together, visions of what she’d seen that horrible morning burning across her mind. The crushing grief of losing her sister to domestic violence, of being the sole carer of a dependant, exhausting new born. The pervasive need for the man who had stolen her heart.
“As it turns out, I didn’t,” she said with a trace of the strength that had helped her survive. “I didn’t need you. And I don’t now.”
His lip twisted in a half-smile. “We’ll see.” He lifted a hand to her, holding a small piece of card. “This is my number.”
She stared at it without attempting to take the damned thing.
Syed placed it on the coffee table beside him. “This is your decision, najin. I am offering you…”
“What? What are you offering me?” Her eyes were haunted. “You’re offering me nothing. Sex. Five years after you left.”
His eyes washed with regret. She was right. Was that what he thought? That he could come here and somehow pick up where they left off? That he’d apologise and she’d accept and they’d be as happy as before?
“I’m offering you a way out of this hell,” he said finally, wishing he had thought this through better.
“And a one-way pass into a new one,” she said softly. “Do you think I could live with myself if I slept with you for money?”
And the look of misery on her face set every single one of his convictions scurrying. Doubt filled him. “I want you,” he said again, as though it explained everything. As though that simple answer alone would make it okay. He didn’t just want her; he needed her.
“I’m not for sale.”
He stared at her; dark eyes clashing with her ice blue. “I don’t want to buy you.”
“That’s exactly what you’re trying to do?”
Silence throbbed around them. How could he dispute her assertion? He had done as she’d said. Only what choice did he have? Giving her money was an immediate concern. But in the back of his mind was the knowledge that he might have lost her forever. That without doing something drastic, she would never speak to him again.
And he couldn’t risk that.
“You don’t look well,” he said, the words a soft, gruff observation. So soft that for a second she mistook his statement for a sign of the relationship she had, at one time, believed they had.
But it was another lie. She would never trust this man again.
“I’m fine.”
“You are skin and bone.”
She glared at him. “So why are you fighting for this so hard? You obviously don’t find me as attractive now as you did …”
He shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did.” She turned back to the window. Resignation flooded her. “Please, just go, Syed.”
She kept her eyes squeezed shut. Only when she heard the front door of the house close did she dare look around.
The room was empty.
He was gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
Five years earlier.
“Stop it,” Sarah giggled, mock-punching Syed’s arm as she studied the photo dispassionately.
“Stop what?” He reached for another dolmades, his eyes glimmering with mirth as he bit down on one end of the salty snack.
“Stop doing this.” Sarah focussed both eyes on the tip of her nose, copying his cross-eyed expression before she burst out laughing. “You look goofy.”
“Goofy?” He shook his head ruefully. “Definitely not a word that’s ever been attached to me before.”
“So maybe you’ve never had your portrait taken before,” Sarah said with a shrug of her shoulders. It was one of those hot July days that had gradually given way to a steamy, oppressive night. Not a breeze was to be had, and her dress was sticking to her body, her generous curves visible to Syed’s appraising gaze. And he was appraising her, in a way that made heat creep over her neck.
“Only once or twice.” He placed the dolmades down and wiped his fingers on a paper napkin.
Sarah had lit at least a dozen little candles throughout the lounge room of her tiny house. It was cosy and quaint, and somehow, it was the most beautiful room he’d ever been in. And that was saying something.
“Really? What for?” Her curiosity was natural.
Syed had been careful in the time they’d been dating; careful not to make slips that alluded to his other life. What had started off as a natural misunderstanding – how could he have known that Sarah hadn’t recognised him? – was now an intentional deceit.
“Oh, you know. Family pictures, that kind of thing.”
“I see.” Sympathetic anguish marred her features for a moment, as she moved to him with the kindness that he’d come to recognise was as much a part of her as those enormous eyes or the ready smile. “Do you have a photo of her?”
He knew instantly who she meant. “Of course.”
“May I see?”
Adrenalin pumped in his veins. Did he have one that wouldn’t immediately give away the truth of his identity? He pulled his phone out of his pocket and scanned through the selection of shots on his camera roll, guilt making his finger move quickly. The images of him and Zahir on their yacht; photos of Ashad’s last birthday party with the ten-tier cake. An official portrait of the brothers in their full crowns-and-gowns, as they jokingly referred to the ceremonial robes they wore from time to time.
Then, she was there. His mother, as she’d been at the party. Dressed in a beautiful gown, she hadn’t worn a crown. “A wig is enough,” she’d joked wryly at the time. “I don’t want to worry that a tiara is going to slip and reveal my bald head to all and sundry.”
“This is her about six months ago,” he said with a tight smile.
Sarah’s hand stroked his hair as she came to stand beside him, her eyes tracing the image carefully, seeing it as an artist, a photographer. She noticed the smile, the enigmatic expression on a stunning face, the tiredness in the eyes, and the colourful dress.
“She looks very nice,” Sarah said gently. “Just like her son.” She dropped a kiss against Syed’s thick, dark hair, and then nestled her cheek against him, holding him tight, breathing in his exotic fragrance. Desire kicked hard and fast in her gut.
“She would have liked you,” Syed said, and he knew it was true. Though Sarah’s background would have given anyone concern, his mother would have seen past that. She would have seen Sarah for her potential and integrity.
“I think I would have liked her too,” she murmured.
His hand lifted up, wrapping around her waist, his fingers stroking her side. Need gushed through her veins, stirring her body to a strange, new awareness; one he perhaps didn’t feel, as he pulled away from her easily and stood.
“Let me take your photo,” he said.
“Oh, no!” She shook her head, her pulse still raging, her heart thumping. “I don’t like being in pictures.”
“Why not?” He reached for her camera, feeling its weight in his hands, flicking the on switch easily.
“I’m better at taking them, that’s all,” she demurred, moving towards him and reaching for the camera.
He held it high, above his head, so that her whole body pressed to his as she tried to take it from him. “Besides, you’re a far better photographic subject than I am.”
“I respectfully disagree,” he laughed, but it was a thick, heavy laugh.
“Give it to me,” she insisted, reaching up higher.
“Let me take a photo first,” he insisted, his eyes crinkled at the corners.
“No deal.” She shook her head and wrapped a hand around his waist, tickling his side with a giggle.
“Careful, najin. Do not dish out what you cannot take,” he warned.
Her eyes met his with a droll look of amusement. “You think I can’t take being tickled?”
“Not by a master such as me,” he grinned, bringing one hand down and finding the soft flesh beneath her arm.
“Stop,” she wriggled self-consciously, thinking of the h
ot day and the stickiness of her flesh.
“Then let me take your photo,” he laughed, tilting his head back.
“Fine,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Take it.”
He brought the camera down to his face, focussing it for a moment. She smiled into the lens, her best smile, but as his finger compressed the button, she looked at the tip of her nose, emulating his silly face.
“Sarah,” he laughed, shaking his head. “A proper one.” He looked into the screen, laughing anew as he saw the image. “Here you look…”
“What do I look?” She moved to stand beside him. The photo was beyond-silly. Her long blonde hair was fluffed around her head, her cheeks were pink, her eyes-crossed and her mouth pouted.
“You look good enough to eat.” Something cracked in his voice. “May I have a copy of this?”
“Of this?” She husked, a frown pulling at her lips. “You want a copy of this photo?”
“Mmm.” He put the camera down carefully on the small table to his right and then turned to face her. His body was large; his frame easily dwarfed hers. “Yes, please.”
“Okay. But it seems like kind of a weird picture to keep.”
“Not to me.” He reached up, placing a hand on either side of her face.
Sarah’s breath hitched in her throat, her eyes enormous. He was looking at her as though she was the answer to every question in the universe. Confusion throbbed inside of her, and something else. Something new and foreign.
“I want to remember this night,” he said quietly, his hands dropping to her shoulders. His fingers were confident as they slid beneath the straps of her dress, guiding it gently down her arms.
Sarah sucked in a deep, shaking breath as he paused, the straps around her upper arms, his eyes silently questioning hers.
“I want to make love to you,” he said, bringing his hands to her hips and holding her close. “I want to kiss your body all over; I want to be your first.”
“You already are,” she groaned, lifting up and curling her hands around his neck. “I love you.”
*
Present Day
“Butter?”
Sarah nodded absent-mindedly, pushing the cart towards the fridges out the back. “Yep, butter.” She slowed in front of the brand they bought and waited patiently while Lexi extended a hand into the glass cabinet, selecting a parcel and placing it in the wire basket.
“What else?” Sarah asked, watching as Lexi climbed back onto the front so that she could ride shotgun through the store.
“Milk?”
“We have milk,” Sarah shook her head. Was he wondering why she hadn’t called? Was he even still in the country?
He hadn’t given her a time limit. But they’d both known his request was for immediate response.
“Chocolate?”
“Chocolate?” The cheek of the request broke through Sarah’s troubled recollection. “We don’t need chocolate.”
“We always need chocolate, mama,” Lexi giggled.
Sarah shook her head, wishing she could stretch their budget to at least a small candy bar. But pay day was still a week away, and they were down to financial fumes. “Maybe next week,” she said softly, pushing the cart into the next aisle.
It was a mistake. Cream buns, donuts, churros, tacos. The baked goods section was mouth-wateringly tempting. She lifted a loaf of bread off the rack and kept walking, moving faster and winking at Lexi.
She had the sweetest temperament. Far from complaining at the rather utilitarian assembly of goods in their cart, Lexi forgot about chocolate and cream buns and simply enjoyed the ride.
It made Sarah feel even worse. If Lexi had thrown the occasional tantrum, Sarah could have put the hard-line stance on groceries down to a disciplinary technique. As it was, she felt like a cruel miser.
“What next?” Lexi lifted a finger off the cart and tapped her chin, in an imitation of someone deep in thought that made Sarah burst out laughing again.
“Eggs.”
“That way! Over yonder!” Lexi pointed down the aisle to the fridges that ran the length of the store, earning a chuckle from Sarah.
“Over yonder? What have you been watching?”
“Jake and the Nezzy…”
“And the Neverland Pirates?” Sarah finished, the smile twitching on her lips.
“Uh huh.”
Sarah paused by the eggs and then reached for a carton. She checked for breakages then handed it gently to Lexi, who placed it with the utmost care into the cart.
“That’s it,” Sarah said. “Check out time.”
And though they’d bought only a meagre selection of goods, the usual anxiety still besieged her as she scanned through their goods and bagged them. She pressed her credit card to the machine and waited, heart in mouth, until it flashed, ‘APPROVED’.
“Okay?” Lexi asked, and Sarah winced inwardly.
She’d tried so hard to shield Lexi from the reality of their situation, but Lexi was adept at reading people and understanding their emotions. Of course she saw the fever that overtook Sarah every time they had to pay for something.
“Perfectly.” And then, knowing it was foolish, knowing it was all kinds of silly, she reached for a candy bar and swiped it over the register, tapping her credit card once more.
Lexi’s eyes lit up. “Chocolate?”
“For you.” Sarah handed it over, and the little girl’s smile was a vision she knew she wouldn’t quickly forget.
Sarah didn’t have a car. There wasn’t much need for one in a town the size of Iron Oaks. She carried their grocery bags the mile walk home, while Lexi kept up easily, chatting in between tiny nibbles of the candy. Her desire to savour the taste made Sarah’s heart glow.
“What’s that?” Lexi asked as they approached their front door.
Sarah, distracted momentarily in shifting the bags to her other hand, followed Lexi’s pointed finger.
“I…” She shook her head. “I don’t know.” The box was enormous. The size one might need to transport a microwave. “Is it for us? Maybe it’s the wrong house?” She mused, moving up the stairs and peering over the label.
Sarah Smith. No address was written, which meant it had been hand delivered.
“I … Lexi? Go inside,” she murmured, unlocking the door and putting the groceries against it to keep it from swinging shut again. Then, with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty, she used her key to slit the tape that ran across the top of the cardboard.
A card was on the top, a crisp white note. She picked it up, her heart pounding, because she knew who it was from without even opening it.
Give me a night… S.
She closed her eyes, her resolve slipping painfully away.
A night.
One last night.
Could she sleep with him, forgetting the pains of the past, the wounds he’d torn through her soul, and simply enjoy the physical? Would it lead to another five years of pain and need?
She blinked back into the box, a frown smudging across her lips.
If he had sent Sarah expensive gifts, she would have sent them back. Perhaps he’d understood that.
However, she could never turn away a kindness to Lexi. She stared at the bright labels that were concealed within tissue paper and sobbed. A happy sob. It was heavy and awkward but she carried the box into the lounge, where Lexi was watching cartoons. “Honey? Sit down.” Sarah flicked the television off.
“What is it?”
Sarah pulled out the first box, a house for a group of woodland creatures, a toy that all the kids had been coveting since Christmas time. There were at least a dozen of the matching toys. Beneath it, there were books, and then, at the bottom clothes. And shoes. How had he known her size?
A normal man might have struggled, but Syed of course had servants and staff to do such investigating for him, and Lexi was a pretty average four year old.
Sarah didn’t bother to check the tears that were rolling down her face.
Nor did she allow
a moment of doubt to cloud her joy at this unexpected present. It was not payment. It was a gift. A thoughtful gesture.
From Syed? Yeah, right. As if he would give Sarah anything without wanting something in return.
“Mommy? It’s not my birthday,” Lexi said, her own face paled by confusion. “What’s this all for?”
“You’re such a good girl, Lexi. And sometimes, good things happen. Sometimes, people are kind.”
“I can’t believe it! Can I go tell Caitlyn?”
Sarah’s smile was indulgent. “Soon. Let me unpack our shopping while you have a look through all this. ‘Kay?”
“Uh huh.” Lexi was already busy unboxing a chubby looking bunny rabbit in a pair of green coveralls.
Sarah had just slid the eggs into the fridge when Lexi came through. “Mommy? I think this one’s for you.”
Sarah looked down at the smaller box Lexi was holding. It was a thick cardboard, and across the top, in Syed’s unmistakable hand: Sarah.
Her heart began to thump anew. With fingers that were slightly unsteady, she took the box and placed it on the counter.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
“In a minute. Go back to your play, honey. I’ll be out soon.”
Lexi shrugged and skipped back to the lounge. It was no hardship to return to the wonderful toys someone had given her.
As soon as Sarah was alone, she lifted the box up and pulled the lid off.
A piece of paper sat on top. She unfurled it and scanned the black letters printed on crisp white parchment.
SARAH SMITH – TRAVEL ITINERARY.
A first class seat to New York had been reserved for her the following night. Transfer to the airport. Everything.
Her stomach churned.
One night.
She pushed the piece of paper aside and turned her attention back to the box. A pen? She frowned, lifting it out thoughtfully. It took several moments before the significance of that pen took shape in her mind.
She had loaned it to him, the first night they’d met. It had the name of the bar on it. She groaned softly and lay it down with the itinerary. What did that mean? Why did he have it after all these years? Had he kept it as some kind of shrine to what they were? Of course he hadn’t. If he’d wanted to build a shrine, he could have put her at the centre of it.
The Sheikh's Million Dollar Bride Page 5
