Читать книгу One Night Of Consequences Collection - Ким Лоренс, Annie West - Страница 46
ОглавлениеTHE PLANE TOOK OFF into the air and Nadir wondered if he needed to have his head examined for bringing Imogen and Nadeena to Bakaan with him.
He could have easily had Bjorn or any one of his men watch her. And what was with the announcement that he was going to marry her?
He scowled. He hadn’t intended to blurt it out like that but hell, that woman could make him do things he’d never intended to do. She always could.
Back in Paris it had been her coy smiles to get him to play tourist or to laze around reading the Sunday papers over brunch. Who had time for that, anyway? Not him. And the fact that he’d done it still rankled.
He’d been so overcome with lust back then he’d let her call the shots. He wouldn’t do that again. Not that he was planning to be an asshole about it. He wasn’t. But nor was he going to be hoodwinked by her nice girl persona either. Hoodwinked by her innocent sexuality.
No. She’d run once. He wouldn’t give her the chance to do it again.
Still, he could have waited until he returned tomorrow afternoon before revealing his plan and he had no ready answer as to why he hadn’t.
Probably he’d still been shocked from finding her with his child. That had to be it. He gulped down a mouthful of water from the bottle his staff had handed him upon boarding. He noticed that Imogen hadn’t accepted one and he frowned.
She hadn’t said boo to him since they’d left his apartment and that was fine with him. All except for the way she made him feel that she was being some sort of martyr in coming with him. And why would she be?
It didn’t make sense. Was she still playing him in some way? Acting hard to get to whet his appetite? Not that it had worked. That kiss... He scrubbed a hand across his face, gulped down more water. He hadn’t meant to kiss her before, let alone back her against the wall. And he didn’t like to admit that he’d got lost in that kiss. Only the fact that she had as well had salved his pride.
Damn, but she tasted sweet. Exactly as he’d remembered. Even now his body throbbed with an inexplicable urge to have her. It was like a driving need. All-consuming. It had always bothered him. The extent of his need. Needing people led to emotional weakness, which led to mistakes being made. He knew that better than anyone and yet fifteen months ago he’d let himself be drawn into her silken web anyway.
Of its own accord, his mind returned to the Sunday afternoon he had found out she was pregnant—an extraordinary blue-sky summer day in Paris. Not wanting to think about his later flight home to New York, they had wandered around Paname—as the Parisians affectionately called their city. He had shown Imogen some of his favourite haunts and she’d dragged him around what felt like every flea market in the known universe. That was where he’d learned she adored Aubergine Provençal and that she was a hoarder of ancient postcards and scarves. The afternoon had ended with her vomiting over his toilet bowl and a doctor announcing her condition with a happy flourish that had floored him.
And okay, he hadn’t taken the news that well. What contented bachelor would? So he’d flown back to New York and called his thousand-dollar-an-hour lawyer.
‘First, establish the kid is yours.’
When Nadir had told him that was going to be a nine-month wait, his lawyer had shaken his head. ‘Not so,’ he’d said. ‘Modern medicine has moved right along. There’s a test, see. It’s called some amnio thing. I had to arrange one for a client a few months back. Boy, was he relieved when the results came back negative. The lady had been sleeping around. Tried to pin him with someone else’s kid.’
His lawyer had tsked in disgust and Nadir had murmured some agreement. Asking Imogen to take the test had made sense. So he’d texted her with the request. Perfectly reasonable in his view.
Finding her gone without a trace when he’d flown back to Paris hadn’t been reasonable at all.
A dream he’d often had over the last fourteen months winged into his consciousness. It had always been about a child of indiscriminate gender. But the eyes had always been emerald-green and ringed with brown curly lashes. Usually the baby then became the woman, which was when he usually woke up. Usually sweating. Usually cursing.
* * *
He thought about her claim that she hadn’t run away from him. The different surname. His gut tightened. Was he being played for a fool? And what was up with the buffoon who had tried to defend her? The one who had trod off like a trained seal at her bidding.
Seeing Imogen with her arm linked through his, that sweet smile on her face that could fell an army of warriors...another screw in his gut turned.
She lived with him. He knew that and the water turned sour in his mouth. He’d nearly decked the guy when he’d tried to keep him from her. As if he’d had a chance. On some level he knew his reaction wasn’t logical, but logic had never been his firm friend when she was around.
He glanced over as she laughed at something Nadeena had done. He had always loved her laugh. Deep and throaty and redolent of all the pent-up passion of her personality. She had laughed a lot when they had been together. Laughed and teased him as no one else ever had. And she had done it right away, something he’d found as sexy as hell. As sexy as he found her now in faded denims and a simple cotton T-shirt. As sexy as he found her—
Breathing? a mocking voice in his head suggested.
No, Nadir silently snarled back.
And why was he even thinking like this? Brooding over things he couldn’t change wouldn’t make this whole situation any easier. It didn’t matter that he had never met a woman who affected him as strongly—or as quickly—as Imogen. It didn’t matter that she made him angry or frustrated or horny or hell—guilty. What mattered was that they get married and make the best of the situation.
What mattered was that he was a father.
A father.
Hell. The thought rocked him. But he knew it was true. He had known the minute the kid had looked up at him with his twin sister’s soulful eyes staring back at him. His eyes. And Imogen had given her an Arabic name as if she’d been racked with guilt over knowing she was never going to tell him about his child. Anger rolled through his blood, thick and renewed, and he recalled how she’d called him a bully. Did she just expect him to give up on his daughter without a fight? Whether she liked it or not, he had a hundred options up his sleeve. And he didn’t give a damn how Imogen felt about that because he wanted his daughter.
He had wanted Nadeena—truly wanted her—from the moment he had looked at her with her chubby hands fisted on Imogen’s soft breast and her wide eyes staring up at him as if she was trying to learn everything about him, as if she was looking directly into his soul. He swallowed heavily. He’d taken one look at her and he’d been...he’d been smitten.
It had been the same the first time he had looked at Imogen and felt that his life would never be the same again.
Hell. What was he thinking?
His life hadn’t changed when he’d first laid eyes on Imogen. They had only been having an affair.
No, his life had changed when she had become pregnant with his baby. And now hers was about to change and he had no doubt that she would acquiesce when she got down from her high horse and realised how much he could provide for her. He nearly laughed. As if she hadn’t already thought of that.
But that was okay. He could live with her wanting him for his money. It would be a small price to pay to know that his daughter was safe and well.
He signalled the hostess waiting to serve them. This was going to be okay.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Coffee, please and...’ he glanced at Imogen ‘...food for Miss Reid—Benson. I haven’t noticed her eating anything yet.’
‘Miss Benson said she’s not hungry, sir.’
Nadir checked out the thin outline of her once curvy body. ‘Give her something anyway. Have the chef cook up Aubergine Provençal.’
‘I’m sorry, sir. What was that?’
Yeah, what was that? He scowled. ‘An omelette, then. Something. Anything. Just as long as it’s vegetarian.’
‘Of course, sir.’
Nadir flipped open his laptop, determined to focus on work for the rest of the trip. Once he renounced the throne tomorrow and married Imogen his life could get back to normal. Or as normal as it would be with a wife and a child and why didn’t that notion bother him half as much as it had fourteen months ago?
* * *
Marriage?
The word clunked around in Imogen’s brain for the millionth time like a giant-sized anvil and she hoped to God Nadir was at this very minute coming to his senses and seeing how ridiculous the idea was.
The best solution...
Of course there were other solutions, and she’d looked some up on her phone as she’d waited for his plane to take off. Not that she wanted to head down the shared custody route and she was sure—once he had calmed down and thought rationally—that neither would he. What rich playboy would? Especially once he learned how detrimental having a child would be to his bachelor lifestyle and she had every intention of pointing it out to him. Because, although she didn’t think those things, she knew that once the reality of parenthood set in Nadir would never take his responsibilities seriously. Not with his reputation as a serial dater. No, he wasn’t the faithful type and she’d been serious when she’d told him she wouldn’t marry him.
And he couldn’t force her. No one could do that in this day and age. The worst he could do was to take her to court and fight for custody of Nadeena. And that was... She swallowed heavily, her eyes darting across the aisle to where he was ensconced in work. Could he win? Would a court of law side with his sob story that she had run away with Nadeena?
Not that she had run; she’d simply taken charge of her life. Taken charge without him in it. And he hadn’t wanted to be in it. Or at least that was the message she had taken from his acerbic text.
She still remembered with embarrassing clarity the burst of happiness she had felt when it had pinged into her phone. It had sat there for a full five minutes before she had clicked on it and by then her heart had constructed a full-on fairy tale around what it would say. She had imagined that the text would confirm that he’d had time to think about things and he missed her. That he wanted her in his life. That he wanted their baby. In fact the foolishly sentimental organ in her body had imagined every possible thing he could have written except for what he had.
Imogen, there is a DNA test that can be done while the child is in utero. I have organised an appointment for you at a specialist. If the child is mine I will be in contact.
Devastated by his callousness and influenced by Caro’s dire warnings, Imogen had left. And really, what had been the alternative? To write back to him and plead? Are you sure you don’t want our baby? Are you sure you don’t want me? She did have some pride.
A delicious smell wafted into the cabin and Imogen’s stomach growled as a flight attendant stopped beside her.
‘The chef has prepared an omelette for you, Miss Benson. It’s vegetarian.’
‘Oh.’ How had the chef known she was vegetarian? ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t order this.’
‘Prince Nadir ordered it for you.’
Imogen glanced across at the man she was trying hard to think about rationally. Objectively. Something that was almost impossible, given his startling demands and that kiss...
Kiss? She felt a blush heat her cheeks. That kiss had shattered her equilibrium. As had her response. Given his hateful, overbearing behaviour, she’d like to have been left cold when he had touched her. She’d like to have been able to say she was over her sexual infatuation for him and was completely unmoved. She’d also like to be able to say there was no poverty or no ugly wars in the world either.
She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. It didn’t make sense that he could still make her heart jump just by looking at her and her body throb for more with one touch. How could a man who was a veritable stranger and who totally disregarded her needs and desires still affect her so intensely?
He shouldn’t be able to. That was the logical answer. Back in Paris, yes. Back then her mother had just died and her absent father had remarried a month later and Imogen had been looking for a change. She’d been looking for excitement and adventure. She’d been looking for passion.
She pulled a rueful face.
Maybe this was just a case of being careful what you wished for.
Because she’d got it, hadn’t she. The excitement. The adventure. The passion. She’d got it in the form of a man who had awakened a hunger in her she hadn’t even realised she’d possessed and who had given her a child. The child she loved. The child she could deal with. The man not so much. Especially not when he kissed her. When he touched her.
So she’d just have to be ready the next time and make sure he didn’t get that close. And maybe he wouldn’t try and touch her again because, although he had been as aroused as she had been, he hadn’t wanted to desire her any more than she did him.
She watched her daughter stacking wooden blocks together on the floor in front of her and tried not to feel so anxious. She had to trust that even now Nadir was reconsidering his outrageous proposition—because surely no one would call ‘You will marry me’ a proposal. That even now he was trying to come up with a way to bow out of it gracefully.
And if he wasn’t, well, Imogen had a plan. She would sit down with him over a cup of tea and she would go over all the information she had downloaded in a calm and rational manner. She’d point out, in the nicest possible way, that if his actions were motivated by some sort of guilt—or attack of conscience—then he could rest easy because she didn’t need him in her life and she certainly didn’t want to trap him.
She smiled. That word ought to put the fear of God into him. No man wanted to feel trapped, did they?
‘Ma’am? Did you want the omelette?’
Yes, yes, she did. She just didn’t want to have anything to do with the man who had ordered it for her. But that wasn’t the hostess’s fault and Imogen smiled up at her. ‘Yes. Thank you.’
Her upbeat thoughts lasted right up until they landed and Imogen found herself in a small airport that made Tullamarine look like LAX. For some reason she’d thought Bakaan would be like Dubai—or the pictures she’d seen of Dubai. It wasn’t. But, even so, it was immediately apparent from the few people milling around in traditional garments and the warm dry air that smelled faintly of vanilla and spice that she had entered an ancient realm full of mystique and promise. Much like her impression of Nadir had been that first night.
A shudder ran through her as the car raced through the night dark city and headed up an incline that led to an impressive well-lit palace that sat just above the ancient city like a golden mirage. As much as she hated to admit it, she was a little unsettled and a lot intimidated by the formality of the palace and the very real sense that she was the one who was trapped instead of Nadir.
‘My Lord, it is so good to see you again.’
Imogen looked past Nadir to where a small white-haired servant in white robes knelt on the polished stone steps of the palace, his sombre tone increasing Imogen’s sense of unease.
‘Staph—’ Nadir pulled the old servant to his feet ‘—I told you not to do that the other day.’
He’d been here recently?
The servant’s mouth quirked but the solemn note didn’t leave his voice. ‘We are glad of your return, My Lord.’
‘I wish I was.’ He switched to Arabic then and the old man bowed at her feet and beamed at her, speaking in rapid-fire Bakaani. She smiled hesitantly, wondering what it was that Nadir had just told him.
‘My Lord, Mistress Imogen, Princess Nadeena.’
Shocked at the label he had given her, Imogen shook her head. ‘I am not his mistress,’ she corrected a little more sharply than she’d intended. Had Nadir told him she was?
The little man dropped to his knees again and started spouting effusively in Bakaani but there was no smile this time.
Confused, Imogen shot Nadir a helpless glance and he sighed. ‘Staph meant you no discourtesy, Imogen. The word does not mean the same in our country as it does in the West.’
‘Oh, well...please tell him to get up. The ground must be really hard on his knees.’
She felt awful and smiled warmly at the man to show him she hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. ‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘Leave it, Imogen.’
Nadir’s face softened as his eyes fell on his daughter, half asleep in her arms. ‘Do you want me to take her?’
‘No!’ Nadir had offered to take her as they had boarded his plane earlier but she hadn’t been ready for that. She still wasn’t, even though her reluctance made her feel totally selfish. There was just too much unfinished business between them. ‘No. I’ve got her.’
His eyes narrowed but he didn’t push and she was grateful. ‘Come then. I will show you to our suite.’
Their suite?
She hurried after him.
‘I hope you know I’m not sleeping with you!’
Nadir turned halfway up the steps and the servant cast her a worried look.
Shaking his head, Nadir lowered his voice so he wouldn’t be overheard. ‘Bakaan is a conservative country, Imogen, and Staph does understand some English. Please keep your discussions about our situation private.’
‘I just want you to know that I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you in case you need to organise another room for us,’ she half whispered.
‘There are many bedrooms in the suite we will be using.’
‘Well, good.’ She felt her cheeks redden when she realised that he’d just confirmed her earlier suspicion that he didn’t want to sleep with her any more than she wanted to sleep with him.
Or any more than she wanted to want to sleep with him, she amended to herself. ‘At least we’re on the same page about that.’
The look he gave her was a mixture of exasperation and something darker that she couldn’t define. ‘Imogen, I doubt at this point that we’re even in the same book, let alone on the same page. But the steps of the Shomar Palace are not the place to discuss it.’
Silently agreeing, Imogen followed him through a wide doorway into an atrium with high coved ceilings and delicate mosaic-covered walls. The champagne marble tiles that lined the floors and the ornate brickwork dated back to what she thought might be the Moorish period, the surrounding artwork and centuries-old statues recording a history that was both dark and wondrous.
‘Has Prince Zachim been notified of our arrival?’
‘Yes, My Lord. Will you be needing anything else?’
‘Not tonight. Thank you, Staph.’
The man nodded. ‘I will bid you goodnight then.’ His English was stilted but Imogen appreciated the effort. ‘And may I say congratulations, My Lady.’
This time Imogen waited for the servant to retreat before questioning Nadir. ‘What is he congratulating me for, exactly?’
‘Our marriage. This is your room.’ He opened one of the doors inside and waited for her to precede him.
Imogen didn’t move, incredulous that Nadir would say such a thing when she had not agreed. ‘You told him we were getting married after I distinctly told you we wouldn’t be?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘What does “not exactly” mean?’
‘It means he believes we are already married.’
Imogen’s brows rose to her hairline. ‘I hope you relieved him of that erroneous view,’ she said primly.
When he sighed she knew that he hadn’t. ‘As I said, Bakaan is a conservative nation.’
‘You lied to him. That’s why he bowed at my feet.’
‘I didn’t lie. He assumed we were married.’
‘And you let him believe it.’
Nadir’s eyes flashed his frustration. ‘It was better than the alternative.’
‘What? That I was your mistress and had your baby out of wedlock?’
A muscle ticked in his jaw. ‘You might not care how Nadeena is perceived in the future, but I do.’
‘Of course I care. You’re just twisting my words to suit yourself but as soon as I see that man again I’m going to correct him.’
‘No, you won’t. I won’t have Nadeena’s name smeared because you can’t see reason.’
‘I can’t see reason?’ So much for her hope that he would use the time on the plane to reconsider his proposition.
He stopped directly in front of her. ‘And, to all intents and purposes, we are married.’
Imogen coughed out a protest. ‘We most certainly are not.’
‘Signing a piece of paper isn’t going to make it any more real, Imogen. You’re going to have to get over whatever reservations you have and get used to it. But we can talk about this later, hmm? It is not a conversation we should be having in front of our daughter.’
‘She doesn’t understand,’ Imogen snapped, fuming because she knew he was right and she should have thought of the same thing herself. Because, although Nadeena couldn’t understand their words, she was soaking up the heightened emotions in the room and that wasn’t good.
Sweeping past Nadir, she gasped as she entered a beautifully appointed bedroom with vast ceilings and long ornate keyhole-shaped windows lined with pale floaty curtains. Deep pink fabric was draped over the elaborate king-sized bed but, other than that, the furnishings wouldn’t have been out of place in any five-star hotel. A freshly made up cot stood beside the bed.
‘I thought you might like to keep Nadeena close.’
She hadn’t expected him to show her that level of thoughtfulness.
‘Thank you,’ she said stiltedly, rubbing her arms against the chill in the air. ‘Is it usually so cold?’
‘Always.’
Startled by the gravity of his tone, Imogen stared across at him. His hands were shoved into his pockets and the hard planes of his face seemed even more austere, the grimness of his expression making her think he was talking about more than just the air temperature.
‘I’ll have the thermostat adjusted. Get some sleep. You look tired.’
Excellent. She looked exactly how she felt.
‘I have organised clothing and baby-related items for you which should be through the dressing room. If there’s anything the staff has missed just let me know.’
‘How could you arrange this so quickly?’
‘Bakaan might be somewhat of a backwater compared to the Western world, but it does have retail outlets. And Dubai is an hour away by plane. Anything we didn’t have they would have.’
‘It seems you’ve thought of everything.’
His eyes were shuttered as he looked at her. ‘Let’s hope so.’
* * *
With a brief glance at Nadeena, who was wide awake and taking in her new surroundings with open curiosity, Nadir left and closed the door softly behind him.
So civilised, she thought, feeling anything but civilised herself.
‘Okay, baby girl. What now?’
Deciding to check out the items Nadir had supplied in the dressing room, she was shocked when she saw just how much he had bought.
She lay Nadeena on her tummy on the floor, watching as she slowly pulled herself towards a row of shoe boxes. Curious herself, Imogen lifted the lid on the first box and gasped at the sight of an exquisite pair of designer shoes nestled amongst the tissue paper. They were her size and she wondered how he had known and then she remembered the day he had taken her shopping in Paris. Did he still remember? Probably not. Probably, it had just been a good guess. He did know women, after all.
Not wanting to dwell on that disagreeable topic, she next checked the clothing hanging on the rack. Most of them were Western, with a few traditional-looking dresses amongst them.
There were more clothes on the hangers than in her own wardrobe and she felt uneasy at why he would have supplied so many. Not that she’d wear them. But she would need to change Nadeena and she couldn’t suppress her delight at each of the baby outfits his staff had provided. Gorgeous soft cottons and silks, the like of which she hadn’t been able to afford herself.
‘All this for one day,’ she said to Nadeena. ‘The man has clearly never had to work to a realistic budget in his life.’
Nadeena answered with a litany of ga-ga noises and upended a box of shoes. Saving the shoes and confiscating the tissue paper, Imogen let her have the empty box, which she immediately started banging on the floor.
Feeling suddenly weary and lost, she changed Nadeena into a soft cotton sleeping suit and fed her. Then she laid her in the cot and grimaced when she saw how wired she was. Sleep looked like a long time coming. Deciding it would be a waste of energy to try to sing her to sleep, she rang Minh instead.
‘I was beginning to get worried when I didn’t hear from you after your brief text. How are you? How’s our darling girl?’ he asked.
‘Nadeena is fine.’ She’d particularly enjoyed Nadir’s private jet. ‘And I feel like I’ve been put through a spin dryer ten times. He wants to see her,’ she added softly.
She heard Minh settle into his leather sofa and wished she was there with him with a nice bottle of red between them and a rom com on the TV.
‘I’ve already guessed he’s the father or you wouldn’t be in Bakaan so you know, he does have a right to see her,’ he said.
‘I know that.’ Imogen watched Nadeena stuff the ear of a soft teddy bear into her mouth and chew. ‘At least logically I know that.’ Emotionally, she wasn’t ready to concede the parenting of Nadeena to anyone else but herself and a couple of trusted friends. ‘I just never thought he’d be interested in her.’
‘Well, he clearly is. And maybe that’s a good thing.’
Imogen pulled a face. ‘I don’t see how.’
‘He’s a very powerful man. He can provide for her, you know.’ Minh’s voice grew soft down the end of the phone. ‘And no doubt for you as well.’
‘I don’t want his money.’
‘I know that. But you could use someone to take care of you.’
That had been her mother’s mistake. It wouldn’t be hers. ‘And what about love?’ She picked Nadeena up when she saw her yawn and laid her head on her shoulder.
‘Are we talking about for Nadeena or for you?’
‘Nadeena. The way he looked at me today...’ She felt heaviness inside her chest and it was hard to get the words out. ‘Believe me, there’s no love lost between us.’ And she would never want Nadir’s love for herself again. She’d got over that unrealistic desire a long time ago.
‘Try to look on the bright side,’ he said. ‘It might not be so bad.’
Imogen released a pent-up breath. Looking on the bright side wasn’t exactly her forte. She was more a planning for the worst case scenario kind of girl. It was her safety blanket. It kept her from making mistakes—or being surprised by things. If her own mother had crossed every t and dotted every i maybe she wouldn’t have been so shocked when her father had left them and never came back. Maybe she would have been more prepared.
‘He left me when I needed him the most,’ she said, wondering why that still had the capacity to hurt. She’d got over that as well, hadn’t she? ‘How could I ever trust him with Nadeena? With me?’
‘That’s definitely a black mark against him. But you have to think of what’s best for Nadeena now.’
Imogen chewed on her lower lip so hard she tasted blood. ‘I’m what is best for Nadeena. He’s nothing more than a playboy prince who comes and goes as he pleases and gets whatever he wants.’ Imogen steeled her heart, more resolved than ever to resist him. ‘I won’t let Nadeena have my childhood and that’s all Nadir can offer.’
They talked for a few minutes more, with Minh promising to call her boss and tell him that she wouldn’t be in over the next couple of days, and then Imogen focused on getting Nadeena to sleep.
Her conversation with Minh had unsettled her. She’d wanted him to tell her that Nadir was a rat bastard but all he’d done was say things that had flashed across her own mind, which left her more conflicted than ever.
She knew giving in to his demand that she marry him would ultimately end in tears. Most likely Nadeena’s. And quite possibly her own. In frustration, if nothing else!
