investigator found out quickly enough that you weren’t supposed to be working at the club that night,” Rafi said. “The only question is, how did you know I would be there? Did you target me specifically, or were you simply casting a wide net? I must commend you, Lucy. I was completely taken in.”
He let out a hollow laugh, but he could not seem to help the way he drifted closer to her, as if compelled. She did not move away.
“Your investigator,” she said. She swallowed. “You mean your aide. Safir.”
“He is a loyal employee,” Rafi said darkly. “Far better than I deserve. He dared to tell me the truth about you when I refused to see the evidence before me.”
“Let me guess,” she said in a tone he could not quite read—one both bitter and very nearly amused, at odds with the turmoil in her coffee-colored eyes. “A cocktail waitress must be in want of a wealthy husband, and any one will do.”
Ignoring her words, he reached out and traced the line of her collarbone, a hard satisfaction moving through him when she shivered in response. She pulled her wrap tighter around her as if she were cold, but he knew better. Whatever her plans, whatever her schemes, she could not have been prepared for this fire that raged between them—this wild, maddening rush.
He had stayed away because he could not keep his hands off of her when he was near her. She was temptation incarnate. Tonight, with her blond curls piled on her head, she looked beautiful, and all he could think about was tasting the elegant line of her neck. He wanted to peel the layers of her clothing from her magnificent body and bury himself within her, again and again and again. When he touched her, he didn’t care that he was Rafi Qaderi and she was nobody. He didn’t care that she had altered the course of his life.
He only wanted her. Here, now.
And this close to her, he could not think of a single reason why that was a bad idea.
“You have bewitched me,” he muttered harshly in his own language, well aware she would not understand the words. And then, yielding to the very same urge that had brought them here in the first place, he took her mouth with his.
Rafi’s kiss was hot, slick.
Perfect.
She should push him away. She should denounce him and the horrible things he thought about her. She should tell him the truth.
But Lucy could not bring herself to do any of those things. She was awash in sensation. The way he pulled her into his arms, pressing her against the enticing wall of his chest. The way he angled his head for a better fit, tasting her, teasing her, making her whole body hum with approval and need.
She loved him.
It was that simple. That disastrous. She loved him and he hated her, just as she would no doubt hate herself when this was over—when she was left to reflect on the fact that she was so weak, so easy, that she could listen to him say such ugly things about her and then let him kiss her as if he had every right.
But it had been so long. And oh, how she ached for him. For this. All the long, lonely days and nights seemed to disappear like smoke. All the agony, the pain and the terrible truth of what had happened to her seemed less bright, less vicious, when he kissed her like this.
As if he felt the same wild fire, the same mad connection.
As if he were as helpless to control it as she was.
As if he’d missed her, missed this, too.
It was that last thought that finally penetrated the fog and forced Lucy to take a step back. One hand flew to her mouth and she could only stare at him while her body objected to the space she’d put between them. Her breasts felt too heavy, too full. Her heart shuddered against her ribs. And low in her belly, she ached. Burned.
But he hadn’t missed her, had he. He had believed whatever poisonous things Safir had told him. He would have been content to stay away on his endless business trips forever—would have done so, in fact, had she not claimed she needed him here, that it was an emergency. He’d had no intention of ending these months of punishment. He’d had no intention of coming back at all.
“Do you think you can just kiss me and it will be as if none of this ever happened?” she asked. She wanted to sound tough, strong, but her voice was barely a whisper.
“There is no pretending it didn’t happen,” he said darkly. His gaze was trained on her mouth and she could not help the surge of heat within her. “But why not celebrate the one thing we ever did well? Surely we should take our compensations where we can. We have so little else.”
“We have nothing,” she said, surprised at her own voice. How clear it was. How little it shook. “You will leave tomorrow morning and who knows when you’ll be back. In six months? A year?” She tossed her head. “You can’t abandon me with so little regard for me and then expect me to fall into your bed at a moment’s notice!”
“Expect? No.” His fingers brushed her cheek, traced the shape of her mouth. “But why deny this passion when we are both in the same room?”
“Because it is the biggest lie of all!” Lucy cried. She jerked her head from his clever fingers and moved away from him, toward the door. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway. This time, I’m the one leaving, and I won’t be back at all. You can count on it.”
“Lucy …” He said her name but she didn’t know if it was to plead with her or to curse her.
Not that it made a difference, she told herself fiercely. She needed only to survive the night. In the morning Rafi would be gone, she would be on a one-way flight back to reality and she would finally be able to breathe again.
She just had to make it through the night.
CHAPTER FIVE
WHEN Lucy woke the next morning, tucked away in one of the lesser bedrooms—behind a locked door to be safe as much from herself as from him—the world outside her window was pure white.
Snow fell inexorably from above, just as it must have been falling throughout the night because the usually breathtaking view was entirely obscured. She could not see six feet from her window, much less into the great valley below.
There was a terrible sinking sensation in her belly and a quick check of her messages confirmed her fears. Her car could not make it through the snow and all the flights had been canceled.
She wasn’t going anywhere. And neither was Rafi.
She dressed quickly and then made her way through the house. Even today, she was unable to walk through the grand halls without marveling at the Qaderis’ power, their grace and consequence. It was evident in the richly appointed rooms, the banquet halls, even the smallest vase upon an incidental table—everything was clearly precious. Ancient. Part of the great sweep of Alakkul’s history.
Except for her. She was nothing but the cocktail waitress whom Rafi believed had trapped him into marriage.
It was no wonder her stomach twisted when she walked into the breakfast room and found him sitting there, lounging back in one of the elegant chairs with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and his brooding gaze directed out the windows.
The
