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The books in her arms clattered to the floor. But she couldn’t seem to hear that either. All she could hear were the questions in her head peppering her like bullets as she tried to fight her misguided burst of joy at seeing him again.
Had he come here to demand marriage again? To bully her? To blackmail her? He was an extremely wealthy man—the college depended on donors like him to fund its postgraduate programme—which gave him a power over her career that she hadn’t acknowledged until this moment.
‘Miss Salah! What on earth is the matter with you?’ Walmsley’s horrified exclamation didn’t really register either as she stumbled back, unable to take her eyes off Raif as he stepped towards her and bent to scoop up the books she’d dropped.
‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered as he straightened, his gaze locked on her face. The clean, intoxicating aroma of man and soap suffocated her.
‘Mr Khan has come to talk more about the funding initiative,’ Walmsley butted in. ‘I have a lecture to give, so I will leave you two alone,’ the Dean added with a sniff. ‘Make sure you make a better impression this time, Miss Salah,’ he finished, sending her a scathing look as he left the office.
But somehow she couldn’t seem to engage with the Dean’s censure as the door shut behind him, leaving her alone with Raif.
‘Why are you really here?’ she asked again, doubting the funding initiative had anything to do with Raif’s presence in Cambridge.
‘You know why, Kasia,’ he said. ‘Did you really believe I would abandon my child so easily?’
‘I can’t… I still can’t marry you, Raif, my answer hasn’t changed,’ she said, feeling humiliated by the quiver in her voice.
He placed the books she had dropped on Walmsley’s desk without replying. Then, to her astonishment, he nodded.
‘You do not wish to marry me, because you do not love me? Is this correct?’
It was the very last thing she had expected him to say. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason she couldn’t marry him. And she wasn’t even sure it was entirely true, because she suspected she was already halfway in love with him. Despite everything. How else could she explain the bone-deep yearning that had gripped her as soon as she had stepped into the office, the needs and wants that went way beyond simple physical desire, or all the dreams she’d had with him as the star player, not just in the last week but also the last month? Or her immediate decision to have this child, which she could now see with complete clarity was not just because she wanted a baby but because this baby was his.
No, the real stumbling block to a marriage between them wasn’t her feelings, it was his. His refusal to accept that love even existed.
But as she watched the stark expression on his face, and realised the effort it was taking him to be reasonable, not to simply repeat the demands he had made a week ago, the foolish bubble of hope pressed against her larynx.
Surely no one’s emotions were ever set in stone, even those of a man like Raif—who had spent years protecting himself from weakness, because of the appalling way he had been treated by his own father.
If she was already half in love with him, didn’t she owe it to herself and their child to at least give him a chance, give them both a chance to find a compromise?
‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘That’s part of the reason.’
‘Then perhaps you could love me if you got to know me better. And we could be married, is this not also correct?’
But it’s not just about me loving you, Raif.
The qualification screamed inside her head, but she could see the flicker of wariness he was trying to hide. And she couldn’t bring herself to challenge his interpretation of the obstacles to their marriage. Not yet.
This was a man who had never known love, had persuaded himself he didn’t need it or want it. That it didn’t even exist. At least not for him. And because of the terrible things he had confided in her, she knew why he felt that way. But still he was here willing to talk about it to her. Willing to take her needs seriously.
Yes, she would have a mountain to climb to persuade him he did need love in his life. And she didn’t want to put herself in the position of trying to make him love her, because that way could only lead to heartache. She knew how painful and pointless such an endeavour was because she had blamed herself for her mother’s absence. She had finally grown up enough to realise her love could never have been enough to make her mother stay—that she couldn’t hold herself responsible for her mother’s choices.
But what choice had Raif ever had to understand and embrace the importance of love if no one had ever loved him unconditionally? Perhaps he would never have the ability to do that with her, but she wanted so much for him to be able to find that with their child. Surely as long as she protected her own heart, there was nothing to be afraid of, or not much.
She let the bubble of hope expand in her throat. ‘Perhaps,’ she said.
‘Then I have a suggestion,’ he said.
Anticipation leapt under her breastbone.
‘I have important business to attend to in Paris and New York over the next three weeks,’ he began as he planted his hands in his pockets and turned back towards the sunlight, breaking eye contact as he spoke. His devastatingly handsome profile made her heartbeat accelerate.
Not fair.
‘Business I cannot ignore
and that was neglected while I was recovering at the Golden Palace.’ He mentioned his illness with pragmatism, making her sure he hadn’t intended to make her feel guilty, but she felt the pang nonetheless. ‘But there will be some free time between meetings when we can spend time together…’ He turned, the desire in his eyes intensifying as his gaze fixed on her face, direct and dogmatic and as overwhelming as always.
