Woman in a Sheikh's World. Sarah Morgan

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towards the door, her legs endless in skinny jeans, bangles jangling at her wrists. ‘Right. But I suspect His Royal Highness is not a man who is good at waiting or being told “no”.’

      ‘Then let’s give him more practise.’ Avery pushed aside memories of the other occasions he’d refused to wait. Like the time he’d stripped her naked with the tip of his ceremonial sword because he couldn’t be bothered to unbutton her dress. Or the time he’d …

      No, she definitely wasn’t going to think about that one.

      As the door closed behind the receptionist, Avery groped for her coffee. ‘She’s sweet. I like her. Once we’ve given her some confidence, she’ll be lovely. The clients will adore her.’

      ‘She was tactless. I’ll speak to her.’

      ‘Don’t.’

      ‘Why the hell are you doing this to yourself, Avery?’

      ‘Employing inexperienced graduates? Because everyone deserves a chance. Chloe has lots of raw potential and—’

      ‘I’m not talking about your employment policy, I’m talking about this whole thing with the Prince. What possessed you to agree to arrange your ex’s wedding? It is killing you.’

      ‘Not at all. It’s not as if I wanted to marry him and anyway I’m not arranging the actual wedding. Why does everyone keep saying I’m arranging his wedding?’ A picture of the desert at dawn appeared on her computer and she made a mental note to change her screen saver. Perhaps it was the cause of her recurring dreams. ‘I’m responsible for the evening party, that’s all.’

      ‘All? It has the most influential guest list of any party in the last decade.’

      ‘Which is why everything must be perfect. And I don’t find it remotely stressful to plan parties. How could I? Parties are happy events populated by happy people.’

      ‘So you really don’t care?’ Jenny flexed her toes. ‘You and the hot Prince were together for a year. And you haven’t been out with a man since.’

      ‘Because I’ve been busy building my business. And it wasn’t a year. None of my relationships have lasted a year.’

      ‘Avery, it was a year. Twelve whole months.’

      ‘Oh.’ Her heart lurched. A year? ‘OK, if you say so. Twelve whole months of lust.’ It helped her to diminish it. To label it neatly. ‘We’re both physical people and it was nothing more than sex. I wish people wouldn’t romanticize that. It’s why so many marriages end in divorce.’

      ‘If it was so incredibly amazing, why did you break up?’

      Avery felt her chest tighten. She didn’t want to think about it. ‘He wants to get married. I don’t want to get married. I ended it because it had no future.’ And because he’d been arrogant and manipulative. ‘I’m not interested in marriage.’

      ‘So these dreams you’re having don’t have anything to do with you imagining him with his virgin princess?’

      ‘Of course not.’ Avery reached into her bag and pulled out a packet of indigestion tablets. There were just two left. She needed to buy more.

      ‘You wouldn’t need those if you drank less coffee.’

      ‘You’re starting to sound like my mother.’

      ‘No, I’m not. No offence intended, but your mother would be saying something like “I can’t believe you’ve got yourself in this state over a man, Avery. This is exactly the sort of thing I warned you about when I taught you at the age of five that you are responsible for every aspect of your life, including your own orgasm.”’

      ‘I was older than five when she taught me that bit.’ She chewed the tablet, the ache in her jaw telling her that she’d been grinding her teeth at night again. Stress. ‘You want to know why I said yes to this piece of business? Because of my pride. Because when Mal called, I was so taken aback that he was getting married so quickly after we broke up, I couldn’t think straight.’ And she’d been hurt. Horribly, hideously hurt in a way she’d never been hurt before. There was a tight, panicky feeling in her chest that refused to go away. ‘He asked if it would feel awkward to arrange the party and I opened my mouth to say yes, you insensitive bastard, of course it would feel awkward but my pride spoke instead and under its direction my mouth said no, no of course it won’t feel awkward.’

      ‘You need to re-programme your mouth. I’ve often thought so.’

      ‘Thanks. And then I realised he was probably doing it to punish me because—’

      Jenny lifted an eyebrow. ‘Because—?’

      ‘Never mind.’ Avery, who never blushed, felt herself blushing. ‘The truth is, our company is the obvious and right choice for an event like that. If I’d refused, everyone would have been saying, “Of course Avery Scott isn’t organising the party because she and the Prince were involved and she just can’t handle it.”’ And he would have known. He would have known how much he’d hurt her.

      But of course he already knew. And it depressed her to think that their relationship had sunk that low.

      ‘You need to delegate this one, Avery.’ Jenny slid her shoes back on. ‘You’re the toughest, most impressive woman I’ve ever met but organising the wedding of a man you were once in love with—’

      ‘Was in lust with—’

      ‘Fine, call it whatever you like, but it’s making you ill. I’ve known you since we were both five years old. We’ve worked together for six years but if you carry on like this I’m going to have to ask you to fire me for the good of my health. The tension is killing me.’

      ‘Sorry.’ Out of the corner of her eye Avery noticed that her screen saver was back again. With a rush of irritation she swiftly replaced the desert with a stock picture of the Arctic. ‘Talk to me about work. And then I’m going to take a shower and get ready for the day.’

      ‘Ah, work. Senator’s golden wedding party. Fussiest client we’ve ever had—’ Jenny flipped open her book and checked through her notes while Avery cupped her mug and took comfort from the warmth.

      ‘Why do you insist on using that book of yours when I provide you with all the latest technology?’

      ‘I like my book. I can doodle and turn clients into cartoons.’ Jenny scanned her list. ‘He’s insisting on fifty swans as a surprise for his wife. Apparently they represent fidelity.’

      Avery lowered the mug. ‘The guy has had at least three extramarital affairs, one of them extremely public. I don’t think this party should be celebrating his “fidelity”, do you?’

      ‘No, but I couldn’t think of a tactful way to say that when he called me. I’m not you.’

      ‘Then think of one and think of it fast because if he mentions “fidelity” to his wife on the big day we’ll have a battlefield, not a party. No swans. Apart from the fidelity connotations they have very uncertain tempers. What else?’

      ‘You want more?’

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