A Diamond for the Sheikh's Mistress

by Abby Green

  Kat’s jaw would have dropped again, but she kept her mouth firmly shut. This was a side to Zafir she’d never known existed. Happy to be anonymous. Not afraid of menial work. When she’d known him he’d been feted as the Crown Prince of Jandor, King in Waiting. Influential and imposing. Overwhelming.

  To her surprise they fell into an easy conversation for the rest of the impeccably prepared meal. So when their plates had been cleared, and Kat was feeling semirelaxed in Zafir’s company for the first time since she’d seen him again, and he repeated his question about those photos she felt almost betrayed. As if he’d been lulling her into a false sense of security on purpose.

  Feeling prickly, because she knew she was being a coward, she said, ‘What purpose will this serve, Zafir? You weren’t interested in knowing before. Why now?’

  He shrugged minutely. ‘Let’s just say that when you ran out of my apartment that night you left more questions than answers.’

  Kat bit back the accusation that he’d not been remotely interested in hearing any explanations that night, because truly, how hard had she tried to get him to listen to her? Not hard at all. Not once she’d known how he really felt. Or didn’t feel.

  But she realised now that the time had come—ready or not—to tell him what she would have told him that night if she hadn’t felt so betrayed by his admission that he didn’t love her.

  She took a breath and forced herself to look at him. ‘By the time I was seventeen I was the main breadwinner. Thanks to the endless round of beauty pageants I’d been entered into ever since my mother realised my looks had currency, I was working almost full-time as a model and supporting us both. I badly needed money for her medical bills.’

  Zafir frowned. ‘Her drug use.’

  Kat refused to let him intimidate her again. She said in a low, fierce voice, ‘No. I never funded her drug use. But no matter what I did, or how many rehab programmes I tried to get her onto, she always relapsed.’ Kat could feel her cheeks grow hot with shame as she said, ‘She used to steal from me to buy her drugs. No matter how careful I was, she always found the money.’

  ‘But surely you had a bank account?’

  ‘Yes,’ Kat said tightly, ‘but I was a minor, so she was the joint account holder. That was no safer place to hide my money than underneath my bed.’

  Zafir’s eyes flashed. ‘You were a minor when that man took those photos.’

  Kat felt bile rise when she thought of that awful day. A day when she’d crossed a line and knew she’d never feel clean again.

  ‘My mother was in a bad way. She’d taken all my money and she’d almost overdosed to death. She was in hospital. My last resort was to try and get her into a private rehab facility...but it was expensive. This man—the photographer—he wasn’t anyone I’d met before, but one of the girls I modelled with told me about him and about the money I could make...’

  ‘If you took your clothes off.’ Zafir’s voice sounded cold and austere, and the look on his face was one of disgust.

  Kat threw her napkin down and stood up, emotion making her voice shake. ‘I am not here to be judged and condemned by you for a second time, Zafir. What I did, I did because I had no other choice. And it didn’t do much good anyway, because the day before she was due to go to the facility my mother managed to do what she’d been trying to do for years—she successfully overdosed herself to death.’

  Kat left the restaurant, weaving unsteadily through the tables, desperately trying to stem the onset of tears. Once out in the street, she hugged her arms around herself, suddenly cold. The bodyguards were alert, watching her from their car nearby. Noor didn’t seem to be with them this evening, and Kat almost missed the other woman’s presence.

  She started to walk in the other direction, cursing her leg for a moment because she couldn’t just run. The street was cobblestoned, and any uneven surface was treacherous for her now.

  She heard steps close behind her and tensed, but then she felt something big and warm land on her shoulders and turned around to see a grim-looking Zafir holding her jacket and bag. He’d given her his coat.

  She would have reached for her things, but she was afraid her hands would shake, so she clutched Zafir’s coat around her, hating the fact that it felt so comforting and smelled so enticingly of him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said abruptly.

  Stunned by his apology, Kat responded unevenly, ‘I...it’s okay.’

  Zafir ran a hand through his hair, his grim look being replaced by something close to anger. ‘Dammit, Kat, if I’d known what had happened to you...why you were in that position...’ He trailed off.

  Old injury resurfaced and Kat said, ‘You believed I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you wouldn’t marry me. That wasn’t the reason at all, Zafir. I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed of the choice I’d had to make. And because my world was so far removed from yours.’

  ‘I might have at least been able to understand, though...’

  Disgust crossed his face again, but this time Kat recognised it wasn’t directed at her.

  ‘That man took advantage of you when you were at your most vulnerable.’

  She shook her head. ‘He didn’t take advantage of me, Zafir. I made a choice to take up his job offer and earned a lot more money than I would have through a more traditional route. I have to take responsibility for that.’

  Kat thought of telling Zafir everything—how the photographer had gone on to blackmail her once she’d become well-known—but something stopped her. It was an unwillingness to let him see just how far-reaching that bad choice had been, sending poisonous tendrils into her life for a long time afterwards. Better to let Zafir believe she’d just been bad with money than utterly naive. Because she’d been naive where he’d been concerned too. And the last thing she wanted was for him to know that.

  Zafir’s car pulled up alongside them with a low, sleek purr. They didn’t go back into the restaurant and Kat felt bad now for rushing out, wondering what Zafir’s friend and business partner must think.

  As they drove silently back through the Paris streets Kat realised that the evening—apart from that abrupt ending—had been very pleasant. More than pleasant.

  She said now, before she could censor herself, ‘I liked that restaurant. Why did we never go there before?’

  Zafir’s face was cast into shadow and his voice sounded rueful. ‘I liked to show you off...and, to be honest, I didn’t think it was your scene.’

  Kat fell silent, realising that she’d been so busy trying to live up to what she believed to be Zafir’s high expectations of glamour and sophistication that she’d presented a largely false persona the whole time they’d been together.

  Just before they reached the hotel, Zafir turned to her and asked, ‘What was his name, Kat?’

  Confused for a moment, she said, ‘Who?’

  ‘The man who took those pictures.’

  Kat was shocked at the steel in Zafir’s voice. She shook her head. ‘It won’t make any difference now—’

  ‘Kat.’ He cut her off. ‘Either you tell me now or I’ll find out my own way. All you’ll be doing is saving my team some unnecessary work.’

  She looked at him and knew it would be futile to deny Zafir when he was like this. ‘What are you going to do?’

  His mouth tightened. ‘His name, Kat.’

  Realising he’d only find out eventually anyway, she told him.

  Satisfaction gleamed in Zafir’s eyes as he got out of the car and came round to help her out. His hand was tight on hers, and he didn’t let her go all the way up in the elevator and until he walked her to her door.

  Her heart was thudding against her breastbone. She still had Zafir’s coat around her shoulders and she shrugged it off now, handing it back. He took it, handing her her things.

  Reluctant to look into those grey eyes, because it felt as if something fundamental had shifted between them and she wasn’t sure where she stood any more, Kat turned to the door, inserti
ng her key. It clicked and she pushed it open. She turned back at the last moment and forced herself to look at Zafir. His face was expressionless, but something burned deep in his eyes. Something that scared her as much as it excited her.

  Her hand tightened on the door handle. ‘Good night, Zafir.’

  For a heart-stopping moment she thought he was about to step forward and kiss her, and she knew that if he did that she wouldn’t be able to resist. She felt as if an outer layer of protective skin had been removed.

  But Zafir just took a step back and said, ‘Good night, Kat. Get some rest.’

  Kat watched him leave, and a minute later she was still rooted to the spot and trembling all over. That explicit look had been hot enough to make her feel scorched all over. And hot enough to confuse the hell out of her. Because he’d walked away again.

  She was also still reeling from his sincere apology. And his anger on her behalf at the photographer. He still didn’t know the half of it. About the blackmail...

  An insidious though sneaked into her head... Maybe she’d finally done it. Maybe the truth of her past had been enough to drive him away.

  Realising she was still standing outside her room, Kat quickly went inside and rested her back against the door, doing her best to ignore her thumping pulse and the betraying feeling of disappointment.

  But it was clear now: her past was a passion-killer. Zafir might still be attracted to her, but he didn’t really want the whole unvarnished truth of her past getting in the way. She told herself that she should be happy. Relieved. This is what she wanted, wasn’t it? To prove to herself that Zafir only wanted the superficial and nothing deeper.

  But she wasn’t happy—or relieved. She was in more turmoil than ever.

  * * *

  A short while later, in his own suite, Zafir paced up and down, his head reeling with what Kat had told him.

  He knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he’d started a search for the man who had taken such advantage of her. Despite her insistence that she had been just as responsible.

  Zafir had had no idea how erroneous those salacious newspaper reports had been, or how cruel. And when he thought of a much younger Kat, in dire straits, needing help, he felt a helpless raw fury rise up within him.

  She hadn’t kept all this from him for fear he’d break the engagement and because she’d sought financial security—it had been because she hadn’t trusted him enough to accept her past. And she’d been right.

  Recrimination blasted him. He’d judged and condemned her before she’d had a chance to say anything.

  There was so much more to her than he’d ever given her credit for, and this insight was proving yet again that something he’d thought would be easy—seducing Kat into his bed again—was anything but. And yet he’d never wanted her more.

  * * *

  When Zafir met Kat at the door of her room, early the following evening, he stopped in his tracks. For a heart-stopping, pulse-pounding moment he thought she was naked. But then he realised that she was wearing a flesh-coloured dress that moulded to her every curve, dip and hollow. It had a high neck and long sleeves, so she was effectively covered up, and yet he’d never seen anything more provocative.

  Her hair was up again, and she already wore the diamond. It sat, glittering, over the dress against her breastbone. Only the presence of the stylist and Noor and her guards stopped Zafir from overreacting and sending Kat back into her suite to change into a sack that would cover her from head to toe.

  He was the one, after all, who had specified a wardrobe of clothes designed to show off the diamond to best advantage, and this dress did it perfectly. The problem was that it set Kat off to best advantage too, and the truth was that once again she effortlessly outshone the rare stone.

  His eyes met hers and something clenched tight inside him when he saw a hint of vulnerability before she quickly masked it.

  Willing the heat in his body down to a dull roar, he held out his arm to her and said, ‘Shall we?’

  * * *

  The function was taking place in a ballroom at the very top of the hotel in which they were staying. It was sumptuous and decadent—and a blur to Kat. As was the view of Paris visible through open French doors on this unseasonably warm autumn evening. Apparently the rolling bank of clouds on the horizon heralded a storm, and Kat didn’t appreciate the irony that the weather was mirroring her feelings so accurately.

  She’d barely slept a wink last night, tossing and turning, wondering if she had driven Zafir away. As dawn had risen she’d felt gritty-eyed and hollow. Fully expecting that the next time she saw Zafir he would be looking at her with pity, or a kind of cool reserve.

  But he hadn’t. He’d looked at her with explicit heat in his eyes. And now she hated him for doing this to her, making her feel so confused and on edge.

  Compounding her inner storm was the fact that Zafir had barely left her side. He was touching her constantly, either taking her arm or her hand, or placing his hand low on her back, just above her buttocks. She was hot all over and between her legs there was a merciless throb. Her breasts felt full and heavy, her nipples pressing against the material of the dress, but thankfully not glaringly obvious under the heavy material of the gown.

  He’d turned away from her for a brief moment, and she was relishing the chance to get her breath and try to bring her heart rate under control again. But just as she was relaxing slightly a vaguely familiar voice called out.

  ‘Kat! It’s really you!’

  Kat turned and a jolt of pure shock ran through her to see one of the only models she’d been relatively close with.

  Her old friend stepped forward and enveloped Kat in a huge hug. When she pulled back Kat saw the bodyguards hovering protectively and said faintly, ‘It’s fine... I know her...’

  She looked back at her friend and to her horror felt emotion threaten as remorse gripped her. Remorse for cutting her friend off after the accident. Cassidy had tried to contact her on numerous occasions, but Kat hadn’t been capable of talking to anyone.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Cass... I should have been in touch...’

  Her friend took her hand and shook her head, ‘No, Kat, you don’t have to say anything. It’s enough to see you now...’ The stunningly beautiful Irish model, with her dark red hair, pale skin and blue eyes, smiled crookedly, ‘But, God, I’ve missed you on the circuit.’

  Kat smiled back, squeezing her friend’s hand, appreciating this acceptance of her behaviour. She knew it was down to Zafir that her emotions were closer to the surface than usual, but that didn’t help much.

  Far too belatedly she spotted a tall, imposing man at her friend’s side. He was dark and stern-looking, with compelling dark brown eyes. He also looked vaguely familiar... It was only when Zafir stepped up to Kat’s side again that she saw it—a distinct resemblance.

  She also noted how this man slid his arm possessively around her friend’s waist. Clearly they were lovers. He was looking at Kat’s necklace and said in a deep and slightly accented voice, ‘So this is the famous Heart of Jandor?’

  Kat resisted the urge to touch the stone. ‘Yes, it is.’

  Then Zafir surprised her by saying, ‘Welcome, Riad. Kat, this is my very distant cousin, Riad Arnaud, a descendant of my French great-grandmother who was gifted this very diamond. And this is Kat Winters, who I’m sure needs no introduction.’

  Riad inclined his head towards Kat, and then he drawled, ‘Some might say I have a claim on this diamond.’

  Zafir responded, sounding unperturbed. ‘It belongs to Jandor—as you very well know. Left to us by your ancestor.’

  Zafir’s cousin looked as if he was considering this, but then he smiled and his face was transformed from stern to gorgeous. The tension dissipated as he clapped Zafir on his shoulder and said, ‘You do know how I like to wind you up about the diamond, and it never fails.’

  Zafir let out a short laugh. ‘It’s good to see you, Riad. It’s been far too long.’

&n
bsp; Kat turned to Zafir then, and said, ‘This is Cassidy O’Connor—an old friend of mine. We modelled together.’

  Cassidy stepped out of Riad’s embrace to shake Zafir’s hand. Kat noted with interest how Riad’s face tightened as he watched the two greet each other. There was something very proprietorial in his dark gaze and he quickly drew Cassidy back to his side. For a moment Kat felt a twinge of envy.

  Riad was saying something about arranging a meeting and stepping back, but Kat’s friend stepped forward to hug her again. She whispered into Kat’s ear, ‘Is everything okay? You look great, but...different.’

  Kat pulled back and smiled weakly. ‘I have a lot to tell you, Cass. I’ll call you when I get home?’

  Cass took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Promise me you will. I don’t want to lose touch again.’

  Kat nodded and said, ‘Promise.’ Then she added impulsively, ‘And you, Cass, are you okay? Are you both...?’ She trailed off ineffectually.

  To her surprise her friend paled slightly, but then she smiled brightly and said, ‘I’m fine. And we...well, I’m not quite sure what we are, to be honest.’

  And then her friend was gone, sucked back into the crowd with her brooding and enigmatic lover by her side, leaving Kat pondering that perhaps all was not as straightforward as it had seemed between them.

  A while later, after a seemingly endless round of being introduced to people and being stared at, Kat’s nerves were on end and she felt close to breaking point—physically and emotionally.

  As if sensing her vulnerability, Zafir took advantage of a moment when they were alone and bent down to say, sotto voce, ‘It’s going to happen, Kat. Tonight.’

  Those words...said with such implacable arrogance after his mixed messages pushed Kat over the edge of her control. She hissed up at him. ‘No, it’s not, Zafir. It’s really not.’

  She walked away as steadily as she could and felt his gaze boring into her from behind. She went through the open French doors and breathed in deep, hoping the cool air would calm her down.