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CHAPTER FIVE
‘SO?’
Her stomach was in a constant cycle of loop-the-loops. She wasn’t sure if it was deliberate or not, but the room he’d led her to was impossibly intimidating. Vaulted ceilings with a wall made of glass on one side, framing a view of the city that now, given the lateness of the hour, twinkled against the black of the sky. The floor in here was mosaic and very old, and at the front of the room there were two large thrones, gold and marble, imposing and grand. The flower arrangements in the corridor had given way to enormous trees in golden pots, some wrapping tendrils around the marble pillars that stretched like limbs towards the ceiling. His voice echoed in the room and she shivered, an unintentional response to the emotions of that moment.
‘You have come to my palace and demanded to see me, yet now stand mute. Are you here simply to waste my time?’
Outrage fired through her, finally slotting her brain into gear. ‘I just hadn’t expected your palace to be quite so...palatial,’ she finished lamely, crossing her arms over her chest, then regretting the gesture when his eyes dropped to the hint of cleavage exposed by her simple white linen blouse. She wore it tucked into her faded jeans, with cream sliders that revealed pale pink toenails. It was a simple, elegant outfit but under his inspection she felt as though she were wearing lingerie. Desire stirred in her stomach, catching her completely off guard. How could she feel anything but revulsion for this man?
‘Why don’t we cut to the chase?’ he murmured. ‘Tell me how much you want.’
She frowned, not understanding.
‘You cashed the cheque I gave you; I presume you want more? Is it blackmail, India? Are you demanding money in exchange for your silence?’
Heat fired behind her eyes. ‘How dare you?’
His smile was cynical. ‘I’m sure you can understand why I think you capable of this.’
‘No, actually,’ she muttered. ‘I have wracked my brain for anything that happened between us that night that would justify your harsh opinion of me, and drawn a blank. At no point did I say or do anything to give you the impression I sleep with men for payment. That you would think me capable of that says more about you than it does me.’
For a moment his eyes flashed with uncertainty, but it was gone again almost immediately, harsh contempt usurping it. ‘We have already discussed the matter of your employment. Frankly, it’s none of my business. You can do what you want with your life, but do not involve me again.’
‘And that’s it? Case closed?’
‘There is no case. I have no interest in debating this matter with you. If you need more money, tell me how much and I will have my aid cut you a cheque.’
Her lips parted in surprise. Of course such a thing would be easy for him, but it still made her head spin to imagine the ease with which he was making that offer. After all, India had spent the morning looking under the sofa cushions for loose change, to be sure she could cover her bus fare to the airport.
Take the money and run! Get out while you still can...‘Are you so afraid of people finding out you slept with me that you would effectively offer me a blank cheque?’
‘I would prefer to keep news of our liaison private, yes.’ His lips compressed and India felt there was more he wasn’t saying, something serious and sombre. ‘It would be far from ideal to have this story breaking in the press right as I am due to announce my engagement.’
‘Your engagement?’ She froze to the spot, her eyes scanning his face. She’d thought he couldn’t hurt her more than he already had, but those simple words pulled at something deep in her soul, so she spun around, looking for support—and found none. Her knees were trembling, almost unequal to the task of supporting her. He was engaged? Had he been engaged that night? She hated to think she’d been so wrong about him...
‘I am to marry before my thirtieth birthday. It is required in order to assure my ascendence to the throne.’
‘I see,’ she mumbled, numb, moving towards the windows purely so she could prop her hip against something steady.
‘Your father has remarried, darling. He won’t be able to make it to your party after all.’
Soon Khalil would be married, and shortly after that he would have children of his own, children who were his true heirs, children he would actually want. Her brow broke out in hot and cold, memories of her own childhood horribly close, the feeling of rejection that had surrounded her again and again as she’d grappled with the fact her father had made a very deliberate choice not to know nor love her. Was history going to repeat itself?
‘So you might understand why I would offer any amount of money to ensure your continued cooperation. Name your price, and I will willingly pay it.’
Oh, how tempting it was! She could simply state an amount—an exorbitant amount that would see Jackson through college and clear all her mother’s medical debts, an amount that would mean she could stay home with their baby for the first year of his or her life, with no worries or stress, and then afford childcare afterwards when she was ready to return to work. Heck, she could ask him for enough to cover her own college fees and she could finish her beloved economics degree, and get the kind of job she’d known she wanted ever since she was a schoolgirl!
And what would she tell their baby? Oh, it wouldn’t matter for years, but one day the baby would be a child and then an adolescent, and they would look into her eyes and ask her about their dad—would she ever be able to meet their questions if she’d lied to Khalil, and prevented him from having a part in their child’s future?
Panic spread through her, because she knew she could accept his money and walk out—not exactly with her head held high but with her needs met, at least—and yet she would never take that option. It was the coward’s way, and if her epic journey here today had proven anything, it was that India was no coward.
‘Thank you for your offer, but that is not why I’m here.’
He was silent, and she kept her gaze averted, her eyes focussed on the distant city, its shimmering lights offering solace and reminding her of Manhattan. She tried not to think about the view from the balcony, when he’d led her outside and kissed her as though he were drowning and she his sole lifeline.
‘Perhaps you could get to the point, then. I do not have all night to stand here with you.’
She turned slowly, keeping her back pressed to the glass. He spoke as though he had plans, and perhaps he did. Maybe he’d been with another woman, making love to her, driving her as wild as he’d driven India. Jealousy spiked through her and she dug her fingernails into her palms to control her heated flashbacks.
