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CHAPTER ONE
This was going to be the last time she would see him, Grace Collins told herself as she stepped through the revolving glass doors and entered the reception area of the tallest building in Qazhar.
His building, she reminded herself.
Of course it was, she thought with a wry smile. Nothing but the best and the largest would do for Qazim Al Shirah.
The sheikh who had been her lover these past two months.
The sheikh she would soon leave for good.
If this last evening together went according to Grace's plan.
Her heels clicked noisily on the marble floor as she made her way toward the reception desk. The man behind the wide wooden desk smiled in recognition at Grace. He obviously remembered her previous visits. There was a knowing look in the man's eyes, as if he understood that Grace was the sheikh's woman.
That thought made Grace's jaw tighten. That was how Qazim had described her.
His woman.
He'd whispered to her during those quiet moments after making love.
Grace belonged to him.
She was his possession.
The memory of those words, the way he'd breathed them into her ear, seared her with heat and with indignation.
She belonged to no-one. How dare he try and claim her like some prize possession!
Grace paused at the desk and peered expectantly at the man, watching as he lifted a phone and spoke into it. Amongst the Qazhar words, Grace heard her name being mentioned. She heard Qazim's deep growl, quiet and inaudible, but unmistakably his.
Grace ran a hand down the length of her blue dress. The one he liked so much. It was a tight-fitting outfit, silky smooth and low cut. It clung to her full, but petite figure, all the way down to the hem above her knee.
She wondered why she had chosen this outfit. Perhaps she meant for it to be one last reminder of what he'd be missing after she was out of his life for good.
Grace leaned against the desk and peered out through the tinted glass windows. She could see the lights of passing cars moving swiftly past the entrance of this imposing structure. Even in the early evening, the center of Qazhar city was busy.
Grace was glad there was no-one else around. But, then again, she knew that most of the offices on each of the building's one hundred floors had closed for the day.
There was only one residence in the awe-inspiring edifice. Only one private apartment located, inevitably, on the top two floors.
Qazim's apartment. His domain, from where he could survey the entirety of the city far below. From where he could view his world. The world into which he'd tried to so hard to draw Grace. He'd swept into her life like a force of nature. It had been exhilarating, passionate and exciting.
It had also been terrifying.
The time had come to put an end to it, Grace told herself. She straightened, feeling a tug of impatience.
The receptionist nodded to Grace and she made her way to the area where the elevators were located. She walked past the elevators used by the workers in the offices. At the far end of the marble corridor she came to a solitary elevator, set apart from the others. This was Qazim's private elevator. Only he was allowed to use it. And Grace, of course, in recent weeks. Only Qazim could control access to his top-floor apartment.
Grace paused and smiled as she saw the doors slide slowly open.
He had granted her entrance. Somewhere up there he was waiting, preparing to greet her. Completely oblivious of her intentions.
Grace stepped inside. She felt cool air caress her bare shoulders. In spite of her resolve, she shivered. It wasn't that she was fearful. Far from it. If anything, she was completely determined to see this through.
The doors closed and, as so many times before, she wondered if there was a hidden camera behind the panels of dark glass. Was Qazim watching her? Was he examining her, assessing her?
Grace felt the elevator move imperceptibly and smoothly. Her low-heeled shoes sank into plush, dark carpet. She held tightly onto her clutch and gazed around the inside of the elevator.
