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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.
