even more, so reluctantly she said, ‘I was involved in a road traffic accident a while ago. I injured my leg and I was out of circulation for some time.’
Try at least a year, Kat thought to herself, and held her breath, praying he wouldn’t ask for more details.
Zafir looked at her assessingly. ‘Is that why you haven’t returned to modelling? And is that why you’re living like this? Because you still haven’t cleared your debts? You’re obviously recovered now though, and I can’t imagine the fashion world wouldn’t have renewed your contracts eventually, once the story had died down.’
Kat hid her reflexive flinch at ‘you’re obviously recovered now.’ But she wasn’t about to explain anything—not when Zafir was clearly no more ready to hear the truth now than he had been back then. And he was right—except when the fashion houses had come calling again she’d been in no position to consider going back...
Kat breathed out unsteadily. She avoided answering his questions directly and said, ‘I do some hand modelling, but that’s about it. And the waitressing.’
Zafir came closer, standing beside the chair. His gaze was far too keen on her and incisive. She could almost hear his brain working, trying to join the dots.
Kat just wanted him gone. He’d upended her world once before and she wouldn’t survive him doing it again.
‘Look,’ she said now, trying to hide the desperation in her voice, ‘did you really come here to rake over old ground, Zafir?’
She stopped and bit her lip as a dangerous thought occurred to her—perhaps in spite of everything he had come to listen to her side of the story? Even belatedly?
For a moment Kat felt something very delicate flower deep inside her, but after a moment Zafir shook his head and said curtly, ‘No. Of course not. That’s in the past and I’ve no wish to revisit it any further.’
Kat’s heart thumped. Hard. Of course he hadn’t come here to hear her side of things. Apparently she was as pathetically susceptible to this man as she’d ever been, and in spite of everything she’d been through that was somehow more devastating than anything else. She felt a dart of panic at the knowledge that time had done little to diminish her feelings or her attraction to him. If anything, everything felt more acute than it had before.
She forced out words through a tight jaw. ‘Then if you wouldn’t mind leaving? We had a past and you pretty definitively ruled out any future, so what more could there possibly be to say?’
She regretted asking the question as soon as she saw the calculating gleam come into those slate-grey eyes.
‘Our future is exactly what I’m here to talk about. A different future to the one previously envisaged, yes, but I don’t see why we can’t leave that in the past and move on.’
Kat’s insides tightened as if warding off a blow. ‘I’m not interested in discussing any kind of future or moving on with you, Zafir.’
* * *
Zafir’s jaw clenched and he had to consciously relax it. He wasn’t used to anyone talking to him like this—and he couldn’t remember Kat ever being so combative. But he couldn’t deny that somewhere deep inside him he thrilled to it. She had changed, and yet she was still intriguingly familiar. Achingly familiar. His whole body hummed with frustration to be so close and yet have her hold him at arm’s length and look at him as if he was an unwelcome stranger.
In truth, he hadn’t expected her to be so antagonistic towards him. He knew things had ended badly before, but she was the one who had kept the truth from him, clearly in a bid to avoid risking his commitment to marry her—which was exactly what had happened. Yet she was acting as if she was the injured party!
He cursed himself. He hadn’t planned on rehashing the past, but obviously it had been inevitable. But, as he’d said, he was done talking about the past now—it was time for him to lay out his plans for Kat. For them.
In spite of everything, and even though he knew there were a thousand reasons for him to turn and walk away from Kat and forget he’d ever seen her again, he couldn’t. Not now. But he assured himself that he could have what he wanted and get on with his life. And he fully intended to.
‘I’m not leaving until I’ve said what I came to say, Kat.’
Dismayed, Kat watched as Zafir illustrated his point by sitting down again. He was an immovable force, and she recognised that steely determination all too well. The last thing she wanted was for him to see how raw she felt, so she schooled her features and sat down opposite him, as if this visit wasn’t tearing her apart.
She looked pointedly at her watch and then back to him, ‘It’s getting late and I’ve got work early in the morning. I’d appreciate it if you could keep this short.’
Zafir inspected the bland expression on Kat’s face. For a moment he’d caught a glimpse of something much more fiery, but it was gone now. She seemed to be determined to treat him as if he was someone she hadn’t been intimately acquainted with. Soon, Zafir vowed, they would be intimately acquainted again, and she’d be moaning his name in ecstasy as her release threw them both over the edge and purged him of this ache.
He forced his mind out of his fantasies with effort and said, ‘Did you even listen to the proposition I sent your agent?’
Kat shook her head, a long tendril of hair dropping from the knot on top of her head to curl around her neck. Zafir wanted to undo her hair and let it fall in a luxurious curtain down her naked back, the way it had before. He gritted his jaw at the image. This was ridiculous—he could barely conduct a coherent conversation without X-rated images flooding his mind.
Calling on every ounce of control he possessed, he said, ‘What I’m proposing is a modelling assignment—’
He stopped and put up his hand as soon as he saw Kat’s mouth open, presumably to protest. She closed it again, her lush lips compressing into a tight line. Zafir ignored the pulse throbbing in his groin.
He tried another tack. ‘You might recall me telling you once about the famed missing jewel, the Heart of Jandor, the biggest red diamond in the world?’
Kat tensed opposite him, and then he saw a flush tinge her cheeks pink as if she too was remembering that moment—lying in her bed in Jahor, her limbs sprawled over his in sated abandon as he’d told her the story of the gem. He’d had to sneak into her rooms like a teenager, even though they’d been unofficially engaged at the time. His people would have been scandalised by such liaisons.
Kat had lifted her head from his chest and said huskily, ‘That’s so romantic... I hope they find it some day.’
Zafir could recall how a vague feeling of dread mixed with fear had washed over him on hearing the wistful tone in Kat’s voice, and how he’d felt the urge to say something, anything, to take the dreamy look from her eyes, to tell her that such a thing as romance had no place in his life. Duty trumped emotion. Always. There would be no room for romance when he became King and she was Queen.
But then she’d reached up and kissed him...and he couldn’t remember anything else.
‘I remember something...vaguely,’ she said tightly now, and Zafir desisted from arguing that she clearly remembered very well.
There was a curt
