for a flicker of compassion. ‘Did that not mean anything to you?’
His jaw clenched in response, the shadowed planes of his handsome face hardening still further in the dim light. A twitching muscle in his cheek was the only sign of insubordination.
‘Legally it will make the marriage more difficult to annul, that’s true.’ He raised his hand to his jaw, pressing his thumb against the rebellious muscle. ‘But I’m sure it can be arranged for a price.’
Was she hearing right? Had the single most wonderful experience of her life meant nothing to Zahir? Or, worse still, had she got it so wrong, somehow been such a failure without realising it, that he would pay any price to be rid of her?
‘I don’t understand.’ She tried again, her voice cracking as she reached forward, placing the palm on her hand on his chest, as if trying to find the heart in him, make it change Zahir’s mind for her. Make him love her. But instead all she found was unyielding bone and taut muscle concealed beneath the cotton shirt. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘I’ve told you. Our marriage should never have taken place. It was an error of judgement on my part. I accept full responsibility for that and am now taking steps to rectify the situation.’
‘And what about me?’ Her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘Do I have no say in the matter?’
‘No, Annalina. You do not.’
Anna turned away in a daze of unshed tears. So this was it, then. Once more she was at the mercy of a man’s decisions. Once more she was being rejected, pushed away for being inadequate. Not by her father this time, with his frozen heart, or Henrik, with his selfish needs. But Zahir. Her Zahir. Her only love.
The pain ripping through her was so fierce that she thought she might fold from the strength of it. But seconds passed and she found she was still standing, still breathing. She forced herself to think.
Clearly Zahir wasn’t going to change his mind. The whole mountain of his body was drawn taut with resolve, grim determination holding him stock-still in the gloom of the room. She could beg. The idea certainly crossed her mind, desperation all too ready to push aside any dignity, pride or self-respect. But ultimately she knew it would be pointless. Zahir would not be moved, emotionally or practically. She could see that the decision had already taken root in the bedrock of his resolve. So that left only one course of action. She would leave. And she would leave right now.
Turning away, she ran into the middle of the room, but then stopped short, suddenly realising she had no clothes to wear. Her entire wardrobe had been ripped to shreds, along with her heart and soul. She looked down at the nightdress she was wearing. Lana had found it for her. She remembered her tenderly removing Zahir’s shirt, remembered seeing the blood smeared across it from where he had held her to his chest, before Lana had slipped this plain cotton gown over her shaking body and helped her into bed.
But she could hardly go out dressed like this. Covering her face with her hands, she tried to decide what to do. The clothes that she had travelled in what seemed like several centuries ago now were scattered somewhere in Zahir’s chambers. Much as she dreaded going back there, she had no alternative.
Turning on her heel, she set off, fighting back the tears as she hurtled down the corridors, down the stairs, Zahir following right behind her.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
Anna quickened her pace, grateful that for once her sense of direction wasn’t letting her down. She recognised this corridor. She knew where she was.
‘I’m going to collect my clothes from your rooms and then I’m leaving.’
‘Not tonight, you’re not.’ He was right by her shoulder, effortlessly keeping pace with her.
‘Yes, tonight.’ She had reached his door now, flinging it open, relieved to find it wasn’t locked. She marched into his bedroom, switching on the light, hardly able to bring herself to look at the room that such a short space of time ago had been the scene of such joy. There was her dress, laid out on the bed like a shed skin, a previous incarnation. She rushed over to it, struggling to pull the nightgown over her head, not caring that apart from a pair of panties she was naked—that Zahir, who was standing silently in the doorway, was watching her every move, branding her bare skin with his eyes.
What did it matter? What did any of it matter now?
Stepping into the dress, she tugged up the back zipper as far as she could then cast around looking for her boots. Finding one, she clutched it to her chest and headed for the door, desperate to get out of this hateful den of misery while she still had the strength and the breath to do it.
But Zahir stood in the doorway, blocking her way.
‘There is no need for this, Annalina.’ Anna felt the searing heat of his hand wrap around her upper arm.
‘On the contrary, there is every need.’ She jerked her arm but it only made his grip tighten still further. ‘Do you seriously think I would stay here a moment longer? Now I know that I am nothing more than a mistake, an error of judgement?’ The words fell from her mouth like shards of glass.
‘You will stay here until the morning.’ He looked down at her, eyes wild and black, his heavy breath, like that of an angry bull, fanning the top of her head. ‘I am not letting you leave while you’re in this hysterical state.’
Hysterical state? The sheer injustice of his words misted her eyes red. Didn’t she have every right to be hysterical? Didn’t she have the right to scream and rant and rave—join Rashid in his madness, in fact—after the way Zahir had treated her tonight?
Yanking herself free from his clutch, she ducked under his arm and into the outer room, seizing her other boot and hopping from foot to foot as she pulled them on.
‘I’ll tell you what’s hysterical, Zahir.’ She spoke over her back, refusing to look at him. ‘Me thinking that we could ever make a go of this marriage.’ She straightened up, flinging her hair over her shoulders as her eyes darted around, searching for her bag and her phone. ‘That we could be a proper couple, partners, lovers. That I could be a good wife to you. That what we did last night...a few hours ago...whenever the hell it was...’ she choked on a rising sob ‘...was actually something very special.’
She stopped, making herself drag in a ragged breath before she passed out completely, shaking with misery, rage and the miserable injustice of it all.
But suddenly, there in the darkest moment, she saw the gleam of truth. Suddenly she realised she had nothing to lose any more. The barriers between them had all come down, were flattened, destroyed. There was no reason to keep the very worst agony to herself any longer.
‘And do you want to know the most hysterical thing of all?’ She spun around now, pinning him to the spot with the truth of her stare, letting the rush of abandonment take control of her.
‘I’m in love with you, Zahir.’ A harsh laugh caught in her throat, coming out as a strangled scream. ‘How totally hysterical is that?’
ZAHIR FELT THE words drive through him like a knife in his guts. She was in love with him? How was that even possible?
He
