by Abby Green
It had made him doubt if she’d even been a virgin, or if that had been part of an elaborate ruse to attract his jaded interest. Certainly her innocence had shocked him at the time when she’d admitted it; he’d believed virgins in their twenties to be as mythical as unicorns, and it had dissolved some of Zafir’s very cynical defences.
And yet in spite of that history he was bringing her back into his world. Because he had to have her. Zafir’s jaw clenched. He did not like being at the mercy of desires he couldn’t control. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d been her first lover, making his connection to her feel somehow more primal...
But, he reasoned to himself, now he knew all Kat’s secrets. Now he knew that she was suitable only to sate this fever burning in his body. He would never put her on a pedestal again, or imagine for a second that she could be the woman who would stand alongside him in front of his people.
* * *
Kat took in her reflection in the floor-length mirror. At that moment she was almost glad that Julie had had to leave her with the team of stylists and hair and make-up artists and go back to work. She needed to be alone right now.
She was dressed from head to toe in a black velvet sleeveless haute couture gown with a deep vee that ran almost down to her navel, exposing more skin than she had in years. Her hair was pulled back in a rough chignon. The heavy make-up felt strange on her face after not wearing any for so long. And she was wearing heels—albeit only two-inch heels.
Her critical gaze travelled down her body and she lifted up the bottom of the dress. Her breath caught. To the untrained eye her legs looked absolutely normal. As they’d always looked.
In the place of her habitual prosthetic limb was the cosmetic one that Julie had insisted on Kat being fitted for some months ago. It had been specially made for her in a factory in the UK, in a bid to show Kat that perhaps embarking on more than hand modelling was possible, but this was the first time she’d put it to use. And luckily the fit was still fine.
Kat looked down. It was remarkable. Her toenails were painted. She could even see veins. No one would notice a thing. A bubble of emotion rose up from her chest and she looked up again, letting the dress fall back, blinking her eyes rapidly to get rid of the sudden and mortifying onset of tears.
She was slightly ashamed of how overcome she felt to see herself like this, when she’d never expected to see herself like this again. When she’d thought she’d closed the door firmly on her old life. When she’d told herself that she’d never really felt a part of that world.
And yet here she was, feeling such a mix of emotions that it only proved to her that she was more tied to her old life than she’d realised.
A sharp rap sounded on the door to the bedroom in the lavish suite where she’d been changing into countless outfits and she called out hurriedly, ‘Just a second.’
No doubt the stylists were eager to see the dress on her, as it was the one she’d wear on the first night of the tour, chosen for its clean lines so that the diamond would be shown to its best advantage.
She composed herself and held the dress to her chest where it was still a little loose. As she opened the door she said, ‘The fit is fine. I just need to be zipped—’
The words died on her tongue and she had to look up and up again at the man filling the doorway. Zafir. She hadn’t seen him when they’d arrived earlier to sign the contract, and she’d felt jittery with nerves, waiting for him to appear at any moment. When he hadn’t, she’d almost fooled herself into thinking that this assignment was not at his behest.
But it was. And here he was, wearing a shirt and dark trousers, his top button open and sleeves rolled up. She guessed that he’d just come from his office. He always had been a workaholic.
He was as leanly muscled as she remembered, the power in his body evident in a provocatively subtle way that was mesmerising and made her think of how he’d looked in his traditional Jandori robes—like a fierce warrior.
His voice broke her out of her embarrassing trance. ‘You’d like me to zip you up?’
Anyone but you.
Kat clutched the dress to her breasts even more tightly, suddenly feeling as shy as the virgin she’d once been, in front of him.
She tried to look past him. ‘I can ask one of the stylists...’ Then she realised how quiet it was. ‘Where is everyone?’
‘I sent them away for the evening.’ Zafir looked at his watch. ‘It’s 4:30 p.m. They’ve been working all day and so have you.’
Kat looked at him a little stupidly. She hadn’t even realised how late it had got.
He lifted his hands. ‘The dress? I’d like to see how it looks with the diamond.’
Kat balked. ‘You have it with you now?’
Zafir nodded.
With the utmost reluctance Kat moved closer and turned around, presenting her bare back to him. She’d never before realised how vulnerable it felt—exposing the most defenceless part of your body to someone you didn’t trust.
Yet even as she told herself that she didn’t trust him she had to suppress the betraying shiver of anticipation that ran through her body as she waited for Zafir to pull up the zip. It didn’t help when countless memories bombarded her of similar moments, when he had pressed close behind her and moved his hands around and under her dress to cup her breasts, pressing a hot kiss to her neck.
She hadn’t felt vulnerable or defenceless then. Far from it.
She’d trusted him.
Her nerves were jangling painfully when she finally felt his hands on the zip, just above her buttocks, and then its far too slow ascent up her back, pulling the dress tighter around her torso, so that her breasts were pushed together under the discreet boning, creating a voluptuous cleavage. Something that wouldn’t have bothered her too much in the past, but which felt positively indecent now.
When the zip was up she quickly turned around and moved out of touching distance. Zafir’s eyes were a dark grey. To her relief he moved back and stood aside so she could walk out of the bedroom and into the suite. The unsteadiness of her legs had nothing to do with her prosthetic limb.
Kat stopped in her tracks, though, when a young woman dressed in a sober black suit, with her dark hair pulled back, stepped out of the shadows to stand beside the table where a large black box sat.
She’d thought they were alone, but they weren’t. Perversely, that didn’t seem to be of any comfort.
Zafir walked over to the table with his innately masculine grace, saying as he did so, ‘I’d like you to meet Noor Qureshi. She’s going to be your personal bodyguard for the duration of the tour while you wear the diamond.’
Kat put out her hand, slightly in awe of the female bodyguard. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’
They shook hands, but Zafir was drawing Kat’s attention to the box, where he had his hand on the open lid. Kat came forward as Zafir said something to Noor, and the woman nodded before slipping discreetly out of the main suite door, presumably to wait outside.
Kat barely noticed. She fancied she could almost see the red-hued glow before she saw the actual diamond, and when she stepped close enough to see the stone resting against the black silk she gasped.
It was literally breathtaking. A stone about the size of a golf ball, in a heart shape. It seemed to glow and emit some kind of luminosity. Kat could imagine how it must have appeared when it was first discovered, deep in the mines, even in its rough state.
Zafir lifted it out and Kat saw that the gem sat in a thick collar-style platinum setting, and that the platinum was inscribed with what looked like Arabic script. The diamond dropped from the collar, stark and hypnotic.
Zafir held the necklace up, clearly indicating that he wanted to put it on Kat, and once again she stood in front of him, and shivered slightly as his arms came around her and the red diamond necklace appeared in her eyeline. She could feel him behind her, the heat and strength of his body.
It was one of the things that had drawn her to him like
a helpless moth to a bright burning flame. His very masculinity. And it had surprised her, because ever since she’d been tiny she’d been aware of men and their strength, and how they could use it against a woman, after witnessing her mother bringing home one abusive male after another.
But Zafir was the first physically powerful man who had connected with Kat on another level and she hadn’t instinctively shied away from him. To the contrary. And now she was feeling that same pull—as if her body was a magnet, aligned only to his and no one else’s.
She closed her eyes for a second, as if that would help fight his pull, and then she felt the weight of the stone land on her upper chest. It was warm, not cold, and she instinctively reached up to touch it, feeling the pointed end. The metal of the collar was cool where it touched her skin.
Zafir’s fingers brushed the back of her neck as he closed the clasp and then they were gone, and the necklace felt heavy around Kat’s neck. He came and stood in front of her, looking at the stone and then at her, critically.
‘Move back,’ he commanded.
Kat felt an urge to resist his autocratic demand, but she did as he asked, taking a step back.
This is just a job and he’s your employer, she repeated to herself like a mantra.
Those impenetrable grey eyes raked her up and down. He walked around her, and even though she’d endured years of people inspecting her like a brood mare, she felt restless under Zafir’s intense gaze. Self-conscious. The top of the liner which sat between her leg and the prosthesis suddenly felt itchy, and she had to stop herself from reaching down to touch it.
Zafir came and stood in front of her again, that gaze boring into her, making her skin heat up.
‘Stunning,’ he pronounced. ‘You’re per—’
‘Don’t say that word!’ Kat interrupted in a rush, immediately regretting it when Zafir’s eyes narrowed on her.
Of course Zafir ignored her. ‘Perfect? Well, you are.’
Kat felt very aware of her leg, and the discomfort of getting used to the new prosthesis. She felt like a fraud, and longed to pull the necklace off. The weight of it was oppressive now, and a panicky sensation was rising.
She couldn’t do this.
She turned around and bent her head forward, saying tightly, ‘Can you take it off, please?’
There was no movement for a second, but then Zafir’s hands were at the back of her neck. She caught the diamond in her hands when the clasp was undone and turned around, holding it out to Zafir.
He was too close. Kat held up the necklace, silently begging Zafir to take it and put some space between them. Finally he did, and stepped aside to put it back safely in the box.
Kat immediately walked over to a window, needing the illusion of air at least. She put her hand to her throat and felt for a moment as if she wouldn’t be surprised to see that the necklace had left some kind of a mark.
Like the mark Zafir left on you? Inside where no one can see?
The panic rose. Kat turned around and looked at Zafir, who was shutting the box again but watching her. So far they’d exchanged only a handful of words, but the silent communication between them was almost deafening. It was too much.
‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted out. ‘I don’t think I can do this after all.’
Zafir put his hands in his pockets, unperturbed by her outburst. ‘You’re a professional model. This is probably one of the easiest jobs you’ve ever been asked to do—walk amongst a crowd for a few hours over a handful of evenings.’
It was so much more than that.
Zafir’s easy dismissal made Kat see red. ‘I’m not a model any more, Zafir. I haven’t done this in—’ She stopped short of saying exactly how long and amended it to, ‘Months.’
‘I’m sure it’s just like riding a bike,’ he drawled infuriatingly.
Kat had to force oxygen to her brain by taking a big deep breath. Zafir had no idea what he was really asking of her, and she had no intention of revealing all to the man who had so casually stepped on her heart.
Thank God, she thought now, I never actually told him I loved him.
‘Anyway,’ he said, prowling closer to where she stood in fight-or-flight mode, ‘it’s too late. You’ve signed the contract and, as per your request, a sizeable sum of upfront money has been already wired to your nominated account. No doubt to fill the black hole your debt created. Unless, of course,’ he added silkily, ‘you want to give the money back?’
Kat sagged. For a moment she’d forgotten. The money wasn’t to fill a debt hole—it was going straight to the rehabilitation clinic, whom she’d already informed about their unexpected windfall, much to their delight and relief. And to Julie, to reimburse her for what she’d paid for the cosmetic limb. Kat had insisted, in spite of Julie’s protests, wanting to feel as if she was at least starting to make her own way again.
So, yes, it was too late.
Straightening her shoulders, she called upon the inner strength she’d never known she possessed until recently and said, ‘No, I’m not giving the money back and, yes, I’ve agreed to the job so I’ll keep my word. I’m going to change into my own clothes now, and then I’d like to go home.’
Zafir frowned. ‘I’ve booked this suite for you for tonight and tomorrow night—until we leave for Europe.’
Kat shook her head firmly. ‘No. I’m going back to my apartment tonight. There are still some things I need to pack, and I’ve got one last shift at the restaurant this evening.’
Zafir’s eyes flashed. ‘You are not working in that restaurant another minute. And my driver can wait for you and bring you back here when you’re ready.’
This was what Zafir had done before, and she’d been too awed to say no.
‘You’re moving in with me, I want you in my bed when I wake up in the morning, Kat.’
A summons she’d been only too happy to comply with.
‘Please do not tell me what I can and can’t do, Zafir. I’m not officially working for you until tomorrow, when I will be here at the appropriate time to start preparing for the first function.’
She tore her gaze away from his and walked with as much grace as she could muster to the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her and resting against it for a moment.
Her heart was pounding. Underneath all Zafir’s arrogance she could feel his compelling pull, asking her for so much more. It had been explicit in the way he’d looked at her wearing the diamond. As if he wanted to devour her. No wonder she’d panicked for a moment.
Was that why he’d dismissed all his staff? Had he really believed that that’s all it would take? Seeing him, being enticed with the rarest jewel in the world, she’d fall back into his bed—except this time without any illusion that he wanted more than a finite affair.
This time there would be no marriage proposal to kick the earth from under her legs, making her feel for the first time in her life as if she truly was worth something to someone... She’d believed that Zafir had really wanted her and loved her for herself, and not just for the aesthetically pleasing sum of her parts.
Kat struggled with the zip on the dress, but she was damned if she was going to emit so much as a squeak to let Zafir know she might need help. Eventually she managed to get it down, after some serious body contortions, and stripped off to get back into her own clothes.
She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror and stopped for a moment, reminded of the fact that at first glance no one would see anything amiss but that on closer inspection they’d see her leg, and frown, and think, Wait a second...
Kat went cold all over as she contemplated Zafir ever seeing her like this—naked and exposed, her wounds visible.
Suddenly conscious that he was mere feet away, and separated from her only by a door, Kat stopped dithering and got dressed in her own clothes again, before going into the bathroom to wash off the make-up.
When her face was clean she straightened up and looked at herself. This was her now. Unadorned. She was naturally pal
e, and her hair tumbled around her shoulders, messy after she’d brushed it so roughly and darker in hue than she’d had it before, with natural copper highlights. She could see the faint lines wrought on her face already—the marks of her experience. Marks of her new strength, which she’d never needed more than now.
Zafir only wanted her when she appeared as she just had—when she was Kat the Supermodel.
As long as she could keep him at arm’s length and show him that she wasn’t the same woman, he’d soon lose interest and move on to someone far easier and more docile. As she’d once been. And when Zafir did lose interest and move on she’d finally be able to let go of the ties that still bound her to him like a spider’s resilient silken threads, because his behaviour would confirm for her that all he’d ever been interested in was the illusion of the perfect woman.
A small voice whispered to Kat that all she had to do was take off her jeans, walk out of the bedroom and show Zafir exactly who she was. He’d never want anything to do with her when he saw that she wasn’t everything she’d once been. He could handle the potentially negative PR fallout, but he surely wouldn’t want to seduce an ex-lover who was now an amputee.
So why don’t you just do it, then? crowed that inner voice. Go on—walk out of here and show him who you are now.
Kat’s hands gripped the sink hard. Her gut churned. If she did, it would all be over. She’d have to give the money back. She’d have to go to the rehab centre and apologise for getting their hopes up.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm. She was overreacting. Panicking. She didn’t owe Zafir anything. She didn’t owe him any explanations. He would lose interest once he realised that Kat would resist him no matter what. A man like Zafir didn’t want a strong, opinionated woman. He wanted someone who wouldn’t challenge him.
