around, but she could see no end in sight; room after room stretched on, filled with furniture and paintings, every sign of wealth and luxury.
The attendant left, and Khaled turned to Lucy with a smile that looked just a little smug. ‘Well?’
‘It’s amazing,’ she said faintly.
His smile deepened. ‘You’re overwhelmed.’
‘How could I not be?’
‘Watch this.’ They were in the bedroom, which was decorated in royal-blue and gold, with a magnificent, canopied four-poster bed. Khaled pushed a button and Lucy watched the bed rotate slowly on its dais.
‘Wow,’ she said lamely. Khaled turned to her.
‘Is something wrong?’
Lucy shrugged and spread her hands out. How could she explain how this suite reminded her of their time in London? Of how overawed she’d been by Khaled, by his wealth and poise, his careless charm, his reckless ease? She’d never felt like his equal, and yet somehow in the last few weeks Sam had neutralised that feeling. With Sam, they were on an equal footing. But not here.
Here, in Khaled’s world, she felt like a hanger-on, a beggar at the table waiting for the scraps of his attention.
His love.
She still wanted him to love her, Lucy realised with a jolt of panic. That was why she was so nervous, so afraid. She wanted, needed, Khaled’s love, and she’d never have it.
‘Lucy?’ Khaled prompted with a frown, and she tried to smile, although her mind still spun.
‘It’s just so…much.’
‘Is that a bad thing?’
‘No, of course not.’ This was her problem, Lucy knew. Her insecurity, her fear. She glanced around the room, taking in all the luxurious embellishments. ‘It’s wonderful, Khaled. Thank you.’
That evening Lucy dressed in one of the designer gowns that had been packed for her; she hadn’t seen any of the clothes before, but they were all the right size. They took a simulated submarine ride to the hotel’s underwater restaurant, Al Mahara.
They sat at a table right next to an enormous aquarium, watching fish swim lazily by; they dined on lobster salad and oysters washed down by a champagne that Lucy didn’t want to know the price of.
A few people recognised Khaled, a mix of businessmen and society starlets, and Lucy watched as Khaled kissed their cheeks and chatted easily, smiling and laughing and talking about things Lucy could barely understand. This was his world. It always had been.
How could she have forgotten? Four years ago she’d been so dazzled, so grateful to be seen on his arm, but she was older now. She was wiser, too, and she didn’t want to live like that.
Feel like that.
After what felt like an endless meal they returned to their suite. The bed had been turned down, the lights dimmed and a tray of fruit and Arabic sweets left by the terrace.
‘Is something wrong?’ Khaled asked, and Lucy heard a coolness in his voice.
She hesitated, not wanting a confrontation, not knowing how to explain how she felt. And what did it matter? There was no way to make it better.
‘I’m just tired,’ she said at last. ‘It’s been a crazy few weeks.’
‘So it has.’ Khaled came behind her, his hands resting heavily on her shoulders. ‘But we can leave that all behind, Lucy, and relax for a few days. Enjoy being pampered, enjoy each other.’ He dropped a kiss on the nape of her neck, making her shiver. His lips moved along her shoulder, his tongue touching her skin, and desire overcame doubt as she turned in his arms and gave herself to him.
At least here and now they were equals.
* * *
Lucy tried to relax over the next few days, and sometimes she even succeeded. Khaled was kind, considerate, yet there was no denying a slight distance in his demeanour, a sort of separateness that made Lucy both desperate and anxious.
She wanted more. She wanted all of him. But he was keeping himself apart, saving his passion for their marriage bed.
It was better this way, she told herself. This kind of distance was convenient, sensible, what they’d agreed. She hadn’t agreed to more, hadn’t bargained for more.
She was afraid of more.
And yet she craved it.
Still, she couldn’t ignore the fact that he was in his element in the luxurious hotels and night-clubs, on the yacht, the beach, the high-end shops in Jumeirah, Dubai’s shopping district.
In each place he ran into acquaintances, people like himself—rich, powerful, arrogant and self-assured—and each time Lucy shrank a little bit further into herself and her own fears.
This was the rugby star, the man who had used her and left her, the Khaled she’d fallen for, and she didn’t want to again.
Yet at night those fears and doubts receded in the reality of their bodies. Then they were equals, lovers, exploring each other with freedom and joy, revelling in the marriage bed.
‘You’ve been very quiet,’ Khaled said on their last night in Dubai. They were getting ready to go out yet again, and Lucy gazed glumly at the rack of gowns that undoubtedly cost more than her year’s salary.
‘I’m tired,’ she said, which had been her excuse all week. And she had reason enough to be tired; some nights she and Khaled had been still awake, loving each other, to see the dawn.
She glanced at him, saw him frown, and frustration bubbled within her. That chasm was opening between them again, despite the shared nights. The wall was coming up, and she didn’t know what to do.
She wanted to bridge the gap, knock down the wall, run to Khaled, and tell him—what?
I love you.
No. She did not love him; she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Yet the words still bubbled up inside her, from an endless spring of yearning. She couldn’t love this man, this powerful, arrogant prince.
No, a voice whispered inside her. You love the man who tickles your son, who shows you his scars, who wipes away your tears. You love that man.
But which man was the real one? And could that man love her back?
Khaled crossed to her, put his hands on her shoulders and brushed a kiss against the top of her head. ‘We don’t have to go out tonight,’ he said softly. ‘We could stay in, order room-service. There’s a private cinema, even, if you want to watch a film.’
Lucy hadn’t even seen that part of the endless suite, yet the idea of staying in appealed to her almost unbearably. ‘Could we?’ she asked. ‘I’d like that.’
‘Of course.’
Within minutes Khaled had cancelled their
