he released her and stepped back, his expression sharp and accusing.
Something cracked open inside her and she knew pain would follow as soon as the shock wore off. Jacqui had expected concern over their tactics but not this!
‘Did you think my staff wouldn’t discover it was you who persuaded Samira to approve the press passes for those vultures?’ His face thrust forward into her space, his demeanour intimidating. ‘You think no one heard you promising him an exclusive interview?’ Asim shook his head and Jacqui could have sworn she read regret on his grim features, not simply anger.
He lifted one hand and swiped it down his face, as if rubbing away an unpleasant sight.
The sight of her?
Hurt warred with indignation as Jacqui stared, disbelieving, at her lover. The man she’d grown closer to than anyone else in her life. Something crumpled inside.
How could he speak to her like this after what they’d shared?
What, sneered a tiny voice, sex? You think that makes you special to him? How many women do you think he’s had? You’re just a novelty.
Correction: were just a novelty.
She gasped as pain sliced deep. Her chest heaved and her head spun from lack of oxygen.
‘Samira and Rania trusted you.’ Asim’s voice had lost that pulse of terrible anger. Instead it sounded hollow, like the aching void that opened up inside Jacqui’s chest. ‘And I let them. I encouraged them.’
He shook his head. ‘So tell me, Jacqueline, what’s your excuse? Money? They’d pay a pretty sum for a scoop. Or was it a chance to get back into reporting? Have you had enough of your self-imposed exile from the media?’
Jacqui opened her mouth but no words emerged. It felt like something had broken inside. It took all her strength to stand there, facing him.
She firmed her lips. What was the point, explaining herself when he’d already judged her?
With anyone else she would have tried, but with Asim... He of all people should know her well enough to give her the benefit of the doubt. She’d trusted him, reached out to him as she never had to anyone.
Piercing regret filled her and she knew that soon it would be replaced by anguish. Oh, she could give him the explanation he said he wanted, but should she have to? What was the point? She felt battered in places she couldn’t even name. Places deep within.
Finally she shook her head.
‘Nothing to say? You surprise me.’
Yet still he lingered, hovering like some great, dark cloud about to swoop down and engulf her. As if he actually wanted her to persuade him.
When she remained silent, her gaze fixed on a point over his shoulder, he finally moved.
‘Later,’ he warned in a low growl. Then he marched away into the night.
* * *
Asim returned to the celebrations, accepting compliments and congratulations. Yet he acted on autopilot, his mind on the woman he’d left in the harem.
He’d waited for her to convince him there was some error, that her blatant betrayal of trust was a mistake. He’d wanted her to persuade him.
Even with the evidence of his eyes and the reports of his staff he hadn’t wanted to believe she’d betrayed them.
He’d wanted to believe in her.
A flash of light filled the air, a thunderous explosion that turned heads and made bystanders jump. Asim whipped his head around, relaxing when he realised it was one final sally from the pyrotechnics.
But with the realisation came something else. Something disquieting.
Only now with a cooler head did he recall a detail he hadn’t registered before. When he’d approached Jacqueline and the reporter, he’d been intent on their words, on what secrets she might give away. Now memory conjured up her tight, defensive stance, the way she’d flinched at the fireworks.
She had a fear of sudden loud noises. She’d admitted it herself, and he’d seen it the day they’d turned a corner in one of the palace gardens and frightened some birds that had shot up into the air with a loud clap of wings. The sound had been like a muffled gunshot and Jacqueline had dived for cover, only his grip on her arm stopping her.
She still suffered from the trauma of that explosion. Hadn’t he soothed her more than once when she’d cried out in her sleep, her skin hazed with heat and her limbs twitching in terror?
Would she have submitted herself to the trial of a fireworks display for a cash payoff from some magazine?
His ingrained distrust told him, yes, people did remarkable things for money.
Instinct told him the scenario was wrong. Jacqueline wouldn’t corrupt herself like that. She appreciated beautiful things, but her idea of beauty was more likely to be a faded, romantic mural than riches. The usher who’d shown her the crown jewels had reported she’d been as fascinated by the intricately embroidered silks worked by the harem women as by the fortune in gems they’d worn.
Asim frowned. If she’d wanted to sell her story, why do it here?
His gaze moved to where his sister sat with her friends and grandmother. To a casual eye Samira looked bright and cheerful. But Asim had known her all her life. He’d seen her pull on that smiling mask too often. This evening taxed her to the limit.
Doubt shivered through him.
No. Not doubt. Certainty.
He recalled the times he’d seen Jacqueline and Samira, heads together, chattering like long-lost friends. The way Samira, with her usual impulsiveness, had opened her arms to this stranger. And Jacqueline’s rare, glowing smile when the pair were together.
She’d done this for Samira.
She’d braved the crowd and the barrage for her new friend.
How often had she said Samira needed to stop running and face the world? And he, so used to protecting his kid sister, had known it was too soon.
Whatever the rights of the matter, he had his answer. Loyalty, not personal gain, had motivated her.
What else would have got Jacqueline up on the dais in front of cameramen, dressed in one of Samira’s sexy creations? This was the woman who still couldn’t quite believe in her own physical allure.
Asim scrubbed a hand over his face as the enormity of what he’d said to her sank in. Her glassy stare and the stark whiteness of her features in the moonlight as she’d refused to explain told their own story.
‘Asim?’ He turned.
A lifetime’s practice at hiding emotion came to the rescue. ‘Had enough, Samira? It’s been a big night.’
‘It has. But a success, don’t you think?’
