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Chapter 7
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING here?”
He paused, just inside the door, amusement creasing his face. “Last I checked, I lived here.”
Millie tightened her robe around her mid-section self-consciously. “Yes, but it’s only four o’clock. I presumed you’d be working for hours yet.”
“Well, it is our honeymoon,” he pointed out sardonically. “I thought we should spend some time together.”
Consternation spread through her. “That’s really not necessary. We both know this marriage is as fake as it gets.”
“Careful, Amelia,” he said with mock offence. “I might think you’re not happy to see me.”
She sighed heavily. “I was just about to go for a swim.”
“Great idea. Give me a moment to change.”
Her lips parted into a perfect ‘o’. “You don’t have to come with me.”
His expression showed scepticism. “Are you so afraid of spending time with me?”
“I just prefer my own company,” she responded stiffly, turning away from him so he wouldn’t observe the pink that coloured her cheeks.
“Make an exception for me.”
The last thing she wanted was to seem as though she particularly cared. “Fine, whatever. It’s your life.”
Great. Now she sounded like a petulant child. “I’ll meet you at the pool.” It was a small point, but felt important in terms of holding onto her independence.
“If you wish.” His mocking smile made her want to scream. She felt like the naïve nineteen year old she used to be, and oh, how she hated that.
The water wasa balm against her over-warm skin. The heat of the day had been oppressive, but it was more than that. Zafar’s sudden appearance had knocked her off kilter, the sight of him scattering her thoughts completely so that all she could think of was the way it felt to be with him, the way his body could drive hers to the edge of oblivion, pleasuring her until time and space ceased to have meaning.
She dove beneath the surface, swimming the entire length with her breath held then standing in the shallow end, the water lapping just beneath her nipples. The pool was walled on all sides, Zafar’s balcony the only vantage point. It is my sanctuary, he’d told her, once, and she’d felt honoured that he’d invited her into it. It had never occurred to Millie that this was likely what he did with all his conquests.
“You are still a mermaid.” His voice was rich, his accent spiced, as he crossed the stone tiles that surrounded the pool.
She looked up at him then wished she hadn’t when her eyes connected with his ridged abdomen. He wore only a pair of low slung shorts. Heat sparked in the pit of her stomach, unmistakable and urgent, spreading through her body despite the water lapping against her.
“I’ve always liked to swim,” she responded primly.
“Your mother used to take you, didn’t she? In Hampstead?”
She didn’t read anything into the fact he’d remembered. Zafar never let details escape him. “Yes. We used to go in the summer. It was good for Jack.”
The words were heavy with sadness and reflection.
“How is your mother now?”
Millie’s heart was heavy. “She’s okay. She misses him – we both do. But when we talk about him now, we’re able to smile, thinking of the good times, rather than only recalling the bad.”
“Grief recedes eventually, leaving sadness, yes, but also the pleasure of looking back.” His observation was informed by personal opinion; sadness lines formed at the sides of his eyes.
“You must miss your father very much,” she said, moving towards him without meaning to.
He stepped fully into the water, so it came up to his chest. The pool rippled around her; she shivered, an involuntary response of anticipation.
Zafar’s head shifted, a movement of agreement. “We all do. Farrah and Aziz took it particularly hard.”
