that had proved the biggest lie of all. She was so angry with him, still so angry with him, she acknowledged ruefully, but what was the point of all that aggression so long after the event? Their marriage was dead and gone—that was the end result. Let it all go, put it away, she urged herself wryly, let him have his divorce and move on to a better, happier future. Their lawyers would be meeting tomorrow: the divorce would soon be rushed through for Jaul’s benefit.
Chrissie sank into the designated comfortable seat right in front of Jaul and wondered why his bodyguards were bowing in her direction as if she were a real somebody. She looked amongst them for two familiar faces, but the men who had once protected Jaul in his university days were not there. Turning back to Jaul, she noticed that he was casually dressed, had actually got in wearing jeans and an open-necked white shirt, proving the point that entry to such exclusive clubs depended more on who you were than what you wore. The white of his shirt against his golden skin tone was eye-catching and a deeply unsettling tingle quivered through her slender body when she connected with his brilliant dark golden eyes surrounded by lashes longer and more luxuriant than her own. He was gorgeous, no point denying that, she allowed, her keen gaze tracking the lean, strong lines of his masculine features while she tried not to wonder who he was planning to marry next...
Chrissie wasn’t stupid. After all, that was obviously why Jaul was in London in the first place talking about needing a divorce and fast. While he was planning to marry wife number two, he had discovered he was still married to wife number one. How very inconvenient, she thought bitchily while Sofia and Maurizia stared goggle-eyed at Jaul and sat down at a table across the way to happily tuck into the champagne and snacks laid out for them.
‘I hope my arrival has not disrupted your evening,’ Jaul remarked stiffly, striving not to react to his ringside-seat view of her long, perfect legs crossed, little feet he had kissed shod in glittery pink high heels. With difficulty he dragged his attention up to linger on the lovely face he knew so well, willing back the almost instantaneous surge of blood to his groin with an actual prayer for self-control.
‘Of course not,’ Chrissie lied, angling her pale head back, shimmering hair swishing across her shoulders like silk as she strove to be gracious for the sake of peace. ‘I assume you wanted to see me about something?’
Jaul confided that he had gone to her brother-in-law’s home in the hope of seeing the twins.
Chrissie was disconcerted. ‘You want to see Tarif and Soraya?’
Jaul elevated a fine ebony brow. ‘And that surprises you?’
Chrissie reddened in sudden severe mortification. She had told him he was a father and obviously he was curious. To have assumed that he would simply accept that news and walk away again had been sheer folly, she conceded ruefully. ‘I could bring them on a visit tomorrow morning,’ she suggested, prepared to show willing in the civilised stakes. ‘Before the lawyers kick in—’
‘The lawyers?’ Jaul repeated as if he didn’t know what she was talking about.
‘The divorce meeting,’ Chrissie leant forward and whispered, endeavouring to be tactful in the presence of the bodyguards who, it seemed, had not taken their eyes off either her or Jaul since the moment she’d sat down.
Jaul recognised the restrictions of the meeting place he had chosen and cursed his inability to speak freely. He expelled his breath on a slow hiss. At least she was speaking to him again, at least she wasn’t shouting, he reasoned grimly.
‘Cesare’s legal team will soon get it all sorted out,’ Chrissie told him on an upbeat note intended to offer comfort. ‘He says they’ve dealt with much more complex stuff than this.’
Jaul’s veiled dark gaze glittered and dropped down to the bareness of her left hand. ‘What did you do with the rings I gave you?’ he asked softly.
‘They’re in Cesare’s safe. I was keeping them for Soraya,’ Chrissie responded, wanting to let him know that she had not retained them for any sentimental reason.
‘They have Arabic names—’
‘A nod to their heritage,’ Chrissie cut in carelessly.
‘My grandfather was called Tarif—’
‘It’s pure coincidence,’ Chrissie declared deflatingly, lying through her teeth because she had named her son after his grandfather, reasoning that her baby had the right to use a name from the royal family tree. ‘I never would have dreamt of naming them after anyone in your family.’
In receipt of that snub, Jaul wanted to punch the wall and shout, but he mastered the surge of anger with a silent, strong self-discipline honed by long months in a hospital bed and even longer months of painfully slow rehabilitation. She hated him; his wife hated him. He could sense the animosity still bubbling away below her newly calm surface, could see the sharp evasiveness in her beautiful eyes.
He had brought this hellish situation down on himself, he decided harshly. Two years ago he had still been immature and impatient and reckless. He had taken what he’d wanted without hesitation and without thought of the risk he could be running...
‘THEY LOOK CUTE as buttons,’ Lizzie said fondly, studying the twins garbed in their smartest outfits. ‘Jaul will fall in love with them at first sight.’
Chrissie wrinkled her nose. ‘I hope not because he’s not likely to see much of them when we live in different countries. I also hope he’s not always going to be asking me to put them on planes to go and see him.’
Her sister breathed in deep. ‘Chrissie...I know it will be difficult but you should want him to be interested in his son and daughter, no matter how awkward it is for you. A father in their lives would be a plus, not a minus.’
Duly admonished for her honesty, Chrissie flushed and climbed into the limousine that Jaul had insisted on sending to collect them. She was thoroughly disconcerted to see that he had actually sent his bodyguards as well. She knew Lizzie had spoken sensible words but the prospect of sharing the twins with Jaul daunted her. He was the man she had once loved beyond bearing and the idea of her children being looked after by his next wife in Marwan chilled her. But that was the way the world was now with families and step-families and ideally everyone being relaxed about once bitter relationships that were in the past, she reminded herself irritably. Other people coped and she would have to learn to cope as well. Even so, she couldn’t help thinking that it would have been easier altogether if Jaul had never come to London and had never had to be told that he was a father.
The front doors stood wide open on the massive house for their arrival. As she clutched first Tarif below one arm and then struggled to hoist Soraya, a woman in a nanny uniform came running out and offered to help.
‘I’m Jane,’ she announced. ‘Your husband sent me out to assist.’
Chrissie was unimpressed that Jaul was too proud and exalted to come and help her with his own hands but she allowed the woman to lift Soraya. They walked into the hall and on into the ugly drawing room where the nanny deposited Soraya on a new fluffy rug covered with brand-new toys and asked if there was anything Chrissie needed for the twins.
‘No, thanks. I have everything I need with me.’ Chrissie settled her sizeable
