stripping off the towel, and she stood naked. He would be ruthless to her heart, she amended.
But her body craved him.
It would be foolish at best not to go on the Pill because all she wanted at this moment was to climb back into bed.
‘I know it’s a lot to take in,’ Alim said. ‘But at least give it some thought.’
He did not understand her anger; most women pleaded for more time with him after all. ‘Would you prefer it to have been just a one-night stand?’
‘Yes.’ She actually laughed—somewhat incredulously. ‘Yes,’ she said again, for this was too much for her to deal with.
‘Liar.’
She caught his eyes and her laughter died. Gabi swallowed, because he actually meant it, she was starting to realise.
No!
‘A year at your bidding?’ she mocked.
‘It works both ways,’ Alim responded. ‘I would be at your bidding too.’
He watched the colour spread up her cheeks and across her chest as she attempted indignation. He watched as she stood to pull on her knickers then sat back down to put on her bra.
He sat up and did it up for her and then kissed the back of her neck.
His tongue was thorough and he moved so he sat naked behind Gabi and kissed her neck harder as his hands played with her breasts.
‘Alim.’
She was hot in the face and unable to stand and he knew it. Now one hand came down and slipped into her knickers. She was sore and swollen from last night, and his fingers were not there with the intent to soothe.
This love would hurt.
And it would be love, it possibly already was, but a year at his beck and call would only cement that fact.
‘Alim...’ She wanted to turn in his arms, to wrap herself around him, but he just upped the beats of pressure and kept bruising her neck with his mouth as she came.
And then he released her.
Somehow Gabi stood.
‘The offer’s there,’ he told her.
And the pleasure might have been hers, but Alim knew it had been worth the restraint from him, for now they ached for each other.
It was the greatest feat of her life to dress and leave, yet she needed the ice of the winter morning just to learn how to breathe again, and somehow think.
But the confusion he’d spun her into was not yet complete.
Alim leant over and opened a drawer to his beside.
The rumours were true, for there, in a small dish, as one might display after-dinner mints, was a collection of diamonds.
They sparkled in the wintry light, they beguiled, and one alone could make the months ahead so much easier for Gabi.
‘Choose one,’ Alim said. ‘And then tomorrow—’
‘I shan’t be your whore.’
‘In my country the tradition is—’
‘We’re in Rome, Alim,’ she interrupted, and her lips pressed together in anger. Gabi shot him a look and then walked into the lounge and straight to her purse.
He made her feel confident. She felt emboldened.
Somehow he gave her permission to be completely herself.
And that self was cross!
‘Here...’ She opened up her purse and emptied the entire contents onto the bed. It wasn’t much—a lot of coins and a few notes—but she tipped them all out and made him the whore now. ‘Treat yourself, baby,’ Gabi said.
As she walked out, to the surprise of both of them, Alim laughed.
He never laughed, and certainly not in the morning, yet here he was doing just that.
And, as the door slammed, Alim knew but one thing.
He wanted her back in his bed.
‘THE SULTAN OF SULTANS is ready to receive you.’
Alim thanked Violetta when she called to inform him that his father was finally ready for him.
He had showered and dressed in black linen trousers and a fitted white shirt and then impatiently awaited the summons.
Alim had been looking forward to breakfast with the newlyweds, to being able to speak more freely with them.
Now, though, he was also looking forward to the rest of the day.
To the upcoming year.
He knew he had overwhelmed Gabi and that it was all too much to take in, but once she had thought it through, Alim was certain there was hope for them.
Alim looked forward not just to the nights ahead but to the working days, for he had loved this hotel on sight. Shabby, cheaply renovated, he had poured much into it and breathed it back to life. With Gabi as the new functions co-ordinator there was much to look forward to on many levels.
Violetta was waiting outside the Royal Suite. She gave Alim a smile as he approached, then three short knocks on the door to announce Alim’s arrival. He opened it and stepped in, expecting to greet his family, but instead there was only his father.
‘Alim.’ Oman’s voice was not particularly welcoming.
‘Where are James and Mona?’ Alim asked once he had bowed.
‘On their way to Paris,’ Oman said. ‘I asked that they join me a little earlier.’
‘I am sure they would have appreciated the early morning call the day after their wedding.’
Sarcasm was wasted on his father, Alim knew.
Still, he had long since realised that if he wanted a relationship with James then he had to forge that for himself.
When Alim had found out he had a half-brother, instead of quietly ignoring it, as would have been his parents’ preferred way of dealing with things, Alim had insisted that they meet.
He had kept alive the relationship with his brother with calls, messages and visits, and would continue to do so. Once the newlyweds were back in Rome, Alim would see them, or he might call in a few days and catch up with them in Paris.
It would be good to see Kaleb too.
‘What about Yasmin?’ Alim asked.
‘Violetta
