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He didn’t respond, allowing his silence to speak for him. When her gaze darted to the hourglass again, she expelled a rushed breath.
‘You cut him off because of his...lifestyle at uni,’ she relayed in a solemn tone.
Tahir shook his head, another wave of bitterness curling through him. ‘The whole, explicit truth, Lauren, not the sanitised version you use to keep yourself warm at night.’
She paled and her nostrils fluttered again in that way that would’ve drawn sympathy and pity from another being had they not known the depths of her duplicity. Then her chin lifted, and she was gathering herself with that depth of poise he’d used to marvel at. ‘You disapproved of his drinking and partying. The way he treated others.’
‘Others?’ he clipped out.
‘Fine, you disliked the way he treatedme. And I know you think I colluded with him that night. But...’ She stopped and took another breath, while his gut turned to stone.
‘But what?’ he pushed. He’d waited far too long for this, had spentmonthsin this very desert berating himself for being so gullible, to tolerate her hesitation.
She shook her head, her eyes flashing with green fire. ‘This is supposed to be my time, isn’t it? Isn’t this cheating?’
His gaze dropped to the hourglass. He’d watched those grains often enough to know only a handful of minutes remained. He forced his insides to relax. ‘Very well.’
‘Like I said, everything happened fast. His trial is already scheduled.’
He should’ve felt satisfaction at the news, should’ve steeped himself in well-earned retribution. But the sensation was surprisingly...absent. It took another second to get why. Because in the grand scheme of things, Matt Winchester didn’t matter.
The woman who sat before him, however...
Where facts, figures and the pragmatism should’ve ruled, she’d lured him into casting aside his hardened cynicism, into thinking their connection went beyond the physical.
Shewas the one who’d made him dabble in that ingredient that was, even as the young Prince he was then, detrimental to a man in his position.
She’d made him...hope.
Made him ponder whether relationships like the regimental one with his father and the clinically transactional one with his mother were the exceptions, not the rule. In the end, she’d proved that she was just as self-serving as his mother.
In Tahir’s eyes,thatwas her ultimate sin.
‘So you would like me to do what? Call the judge and tell him to let a drug trafficker go scot-free?’
She worried the inside of her lip for several seconds before she answered. ‘No, of course not, but you could ask that Matt be given a little more time to get his defence sorted properly—’
‘No, that is not going to happen,’ he interrupted coldly.
The hands folded in her lap twisted once before she stilled the movement. ‘Please...’
‘Tell me, are your British tabloids still ravenous for the sort of scandal I was embroiled in?’
She gave a reluctant nod and he stopped himself from watching the lamplight dance over her glossy hair. ‘Yes.’
‘So why would I want to place myself in a position to draw the same unfavourable attention?’
Wide green eyes rose to boldly meet his. ‘So you won’t help Matt? Is that your final answer?’
He let loose a grim smile. ‘Ready to throw in the towel so quickly?’
Her shoulders twitched before straightening and he recalled her grounding rituals before she took on a formidable challenge. How many times had he watched her do her customary twenty-second countdown and her deep breathing before flinging herself headlong into a charged debate, often winning in spectacular fashion?
Somewhere deep within, in a place he wasn’t entirely willing to admit existed, he wondered whether that memory was partly why he’d chosen this route to satisfaction.
Her lips parted, ready to speak. He stopped her by holding up his hand, even while anticipatory fire shot through his system. ‘Your time is up,’ he drawled.
She snatched in a breath, her gaze shifting to the last few settling grains of sand. Her fingers untwisted, surprising him. It was almost as if she was...relieved.
