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CHAPTER SIX
THEMOMENTSTARwinced as the necklace pulled against her skin, Khalif dropped his hold on the pendant and stepped away from her as if he’d been burned.
‘It’s mine,’ she said past the pulse pounding in her throat.
‘I don’t believe you.’
The hairs on the back of her neck lifted.
‘You recognise it?’ she asked, shocked. While she had known that Hatem had kept the other necklace, she had never imagined that Khalif would be familiar with it.
‘That necklace belongs to my family and has been withmy familyfor over one hundred and fifty years,’ he all but growled.
Despite his obvious anger, Star’s heart soared. If Khalif recognised it, he knew it. And if he knew it, then perhaps she finally could hope to retrieve it.
‘Not this one. Your family have protected its sister necklace, but this one has been withmyfamily for over one hundred and fifty years.’
He frowned, searching first her face and then the pendant as if it could reveal the truth of her words. He reached for the pendant again, but drew his hand back, a guilty red slash across his cheekbones.
Star held the pendant between them for him to inspect.
‘There’s a slight difference,’ he said, turning the embellished gold design from side to side. ‘As if it’s the exact opposite.’ There was something like wonder in his voice, until something dawned on him. ‘I thought it was just a story,’ he said, his eyes gazing over her shoulder on some distant memory.
Star placed her hand over his and brought the necklace back to her. ‘I think we have much to talk about,’ she said.
‘Starting with why you came to Duratra.’ His eyes were now firmly fixed on her, assessing her with an almost hostile gleam.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head.
‘We should both be fully dressed for this conversation.’
All trace of the heavy sensuality that had built between them was now gone and in its wake was the horrible feeling that perhaps Star had an ulterior motive for being in Duratra. Perhaps even there had been some kind of plan behind their night together, a seduction maybe? But as Khalif gestured for her to leave the steam room before him, he knew that this was nothing more than paranoia and confusion.
It was simply the shock of seeing the necklace for the first time in three years. In line with their family’s tradition, Samira had inherited the necklace on her marriage to Faizan. It had been on her that he’d last seen it. And where once dark skin had embraced and heated the gold, Star’s pale skin and red hair brought the gold to life.
Star cast a look at him before she turned down the corridor that would take her to her room. He could barely look at her, the delicate shoulders, the trailing streams of red hair, the way that the thick white towel wrapped around her slender frame made her look vulnerable now. He pulled his gaze from her before he could once again catch sight of the necklace.
He had never wanted a drink more. But he hadn’t touched a drop since Faizan died and he wasn’t planning to start now. The last time he’d given into temptation...
Star had taken a quick shower, scrubbing the slick citrus-scented steam from her body as if it could rid her of both her unwanted desire for a man she might never again have and the discomfort she felt every time he saw the necklace.
There had been a moment when she’d felt hope. When she’d thought that perhaps she’d been meant to come to Duratra, to find not just the necklace buthim.
Now she wasn’t so sure.
She dressed in a loose-fitting T-shirt over an ankle-length skirt and left her feet bare. For some reason, she wanted to feel the ground beneath her feet—as if it might be the only thing she could be sure of.
When she knocked on his door a few minutes later she didn’t hear him ask her to enter, but she was sure that he was there. Gently, she pushed open the door to the most incredible suite she’d ever seen.
She’d thought the room she was staying in was something from a fantasy. It was almost the entire size of the flat she shared with her sisters, and the impossibly large bed had mosquito nets that had become silks fit for a princess in her mind. The view of the desert was something she would take with her until her last breath. The detail of the carvings, the faded plaster and history pouring from every inch of the walls, was so different from the shabby neglect of the estate in Norfolk. It was as if it were full of pride and strength and love from every generation of this family that had ever stepped across the threshold.
She felt that and so much more as she ventured into Khalif’s domain.
He was standing with his back to her, hands clasped behind him. Her eyes scanned the room, surreptitiously and quickly. It wasn’t obvious wealth, though that was evidenced by the luxurious pieces of furniture, pristine despite their obvious age. By the gold, silver, precious metals and jewels that were scattered across tables, inlaid across tabletops, shelf-edges, doorframes. Everything was exquisite...everything was priceless.
It was that everything spoke of Khalif. The rich dark mahogany that was both weathered and strong, the hard edges and sharp angles opulent and eye-catching. The colours were masculine but there were hints of a playfulness that she sometimes felt he was capable of.
But in the centre of the wall that dominated the room was a shelf that was devoted to his family—photos, trinkets that one would collect, memories.Family comes first.It was a sentiment that she could both warm to and be warned by.
