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He’d changed her.
Never before had she experienced such need, such desire, and never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that lovemaking could be so mind-blowingly spectacular. Not that it had been bad before, just that in hindsight it seemed as though making love had been on another level, almost as if some vital ingredient had been missing.
If this night gave her nothing more, she would indeed have some warm memories to keep her company during her lonely nights back in her apartment in Milan.
Milan. She sucked in a breath. She’d be back there in less than two days, assuming the airport reopened as planned. And for all her desperation to escape from Khaled and return to Italy, the city itself had lost some of its appeal. Somehow she couldn’t see herself slotting straight back into work. Even involved in the crazy, fast-paced fashion industry, it was going to seem strangely dull after her visit to Jebbai with its enigmatic ruler.
Maybe first she should take some leave, go home to Australia and visit her sisters and Pearl and check up on her baby niece. She was owed some time and it wasn’t as if she couldn’t start sketching up designs for the next collection while she was travelling. She’d talk to Gianfranco as soon as she was back in Milan.
His eyes blinked open and she realised she’d been staring at his face the whole time. He smiled and reached out a hand, stroking it down the side of her face and brushing away the loose strands of hair.
‘You look…deep in thought,’ he said, his voice rich and low enough to make her toes curl all over again.
She flicked her gaze away. He didn’t need to know she was having second thoughts about returning straight to Milan. It wasn’t as if it had anything to do with him. ‘I was just—thinking about my family.’
He rolled closer, pressing his lips to her neck. ‘You don’t talk about them much, apart from when you went camel riding with your sisters. Tell me about them.’
She tried to ignore the feeling of his mouth leaving tiny kisses along her collar-bone, although the sensation was strangely soothing while at the same time it seemed highly erotic.
‘I haven’t seen them for far too long.’
‘You’re not close?’
‘We used to be closer.’
‘What changed things?’
She drew in a deep breath and rolled over, away from the distraction of his mouth, to somewhere bland she could direct her words, like the pillow in front of her. ‘Oh, it was nothing bad. My mother came back…’
He said nothing for a few seconds. Then, ‘I don’t understand.’
She turned her face back to him. ‘We thought she’d died when Ruby and I were four. It turns out she’d been living in exile at that time—banished by our father.’
‘How did you find her?’
‘Opal’s husband, Domenic, tracked her down to where she was living in England. He took her back to Sydney. She lives there now, in the family hotel that Opal runs. Dad died a couple of years before. He was always busy when we were young and it was usually just the three of us girls growing up with the nanny of the day. But Opal was our big sister. She looked after us better than anyone.’
‘You don’t like your mother?’
‘Oh, no. Don’t get me wrong. Pearl is lovely. It’s just hard to come to grips with the idea that I have a mother at all. For years we thought she was dead. And now she’s there and it’s just not the same any more. Opal has a baby girl, Ellie, who’s toddling now, and Pearl and Opal are very close. And Ruby works in Broome and is just so very far away.’
He curled his arm around her shoulder, gathering her in close to his chest, stroking her hair.
‘I see,’ he said, softly kissing the top of her head. ‘You’ve gained a mother, yet it feels like you’ve lost your sisters.’
She blinked against the warmth of his skin, surprised that he understood so much. ‘Yes. That’s exactly how it feels—except it’s still not like I can even accept her as my mother. She was gone too long. And now I don’t even know my sisters. Does that make sense?’
‘It makes sense. It is never easy to lose the ones we love,’ he said, his words trailing off, his hand stilling in her hair.
She almost groaned out loud when she realised. Here she was feeling sorry for herself and Khaled had known real loss. Both his parents, killed in tragic circumstances. He’d probably give anything for his mother to be alive. And yet she was acting as if her mother’s return had ruined her life.
‘Khaled,’ she said, lifting herself up so she could see him, ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.’
Even in the dim lights, his eyes shone bright and glossy, their dark depths granite-hard, his chin set rigid as he stared unseeing at the ceiling. Then he looked at her and something inside them slowly peeled away.
