white gingham dress, her heart sinking. No doubt he must be used to women dropping at his feet immediately, either covered reverently in swathes of beautiful fabric, or buffered to such perfection that they resembled a female form of himself. She failed on both accounts.
‘You misunderstand me, Tamara,’ he said, slowing raising her hand to his lips, her eyes growing wider and her heart beating faster the closer he got. ‘I find it very rare that I am surprised by anything of late. I had forgotten what a pleasure it is.’
It was then—as his lips touched her flesh—that Tamara suddenly raised her head and something passed between them. Something indescribable. That felt as old and unique as the treasures in that room, yet new and so much more precious.
For in that one statement and the glance that had followed, her feelings of unworthiness, her fear at having the wrong words, the wrong clothes, of being a world away from him, disappeared on the spot. As he gazed back at her she realised that underneath all that she was just a woman and he was just a man who might long to be something other than he was as much as she did, no matter how much colour his world held to her.
Had held to her then, Tamara corrected inwardly as she flicked on her bedside lamp. Not any more. Because, whatever she had once thought, she couldn’t have got it more wrong. And the incredible week that had followed—the hours they had spent talking about anything and everything whilst her father was working, the life-changing day when he had taken her to the new school he’d had built and made her see how misguided she had been to think of her years of education as restrictive, hearing about his studies in Europe with his best friend Leon, encouraging her hopes to do the same—none of it had been about open-mindedness or respect at all. He had made her believe that the world was her oyster, and then tried to confine her to another rock pool, just different from the one she’d started in.
She would do well to try and remember that. Yesterday in her dressing room she ought to have known better than to allow herself to feel anything, she thought bleakly as she watched a tiny moth flit into the bulb of her bedside lamp again and again. At the very least she ought to have been capable of masking her emotions, as she did every day in front of the camera, even if she couldn’t help surrendering to them at night.
Tamara picked up her mobile phone to check the time. Six-twenty a.m. One new message. She drew in a deep breath, her nerves on edge, but it was from Emma, Henry’s assistant. She told herself to feel relieved.
Henry says PLEASE be on time for Prince A’zam. Good
Luck. Emma xxx
As she read the words, she imagined herself waiting obediently in her hallway at eleven o’clock. The thought made her grimace. Surely there was another way to see this through. A way which didn’t make her feel as if she’d already lost…
It was not, Tamara discovered, particularly easy to book a last minute flight, nor accommodation in the middle of the desert at half past six on a Tuesday morning, but the challenge at least gave her the satisfaction of doing something rather than just sitting there, passively awaiting her fate. She felt relieved knowing that this way she could see the job through and hang on to her independence without the distraction of Kaliq’s formidable presence every time she turned around.
With the sun still low in the sky, she wheeled her suitcase down the steps from her flat. The flat she was still renting, even though she had saved enough for a deposit. Her landlord was happy to sell it to her, but she still couldn’t bring herself to commit, even though it had plenty of good points. Like the fact it was just a short walk to the train station, which thankfully linked directly with the airport.
But just as she turned out of the gate to begin that familiar route, she caught sight of a low-slung vehicle with tinted windows on the opposite side of the street. Despite its understated metallic black bodywork, it looked as conspicuous as a panther in the Arctic. It was large and sleek, and she knew it was not the kind of car her neighbours could even afford to hire, let alone own. Please, she prayed to herself, let Penny downstairs have finally bagged her rich boss who she was always harping on about.
‘Raring to go, Tamara?’ The silky drawl that cut through the stillness of the morning as she reached the bottom of the steps made her jump, but the surge of adrenaline immediately turned to anger.
‘Is stalking another pursuit you consider a royal right, along with blackmail, Kaliq?’ she bit out, not bothering to stop walking.
‘Just keeping an eye on what’s mine.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ She stopped then, but didn’t turn around, trying to ignore the way the endless expanse of cool morning air seemed to have grown claustrophobic with the throb of sexual awareness.
‘You are my employee now, are you not? Since you have a tendency for not knowing what’s good for you, I thought I’d make sure you didn’t do anything stupid. It seems it was a precaution worth taking.’
‘Then you’re mistaken. I never go back on my word. Nor do I consider leaving early for an assignment to be stupid, do you?’
‘My mistake indeed,’ he whispered slowly as he came up behind her. ‘I should have guessed that you were dying to start peeling off your clothes.’
‘You didn’t mention that I would be required to remove any clothes. I would appreciate it if you could clarify what is required of me, if my duties are not to be as I was initially informed.’
‘I think you know perfectly well what is required of you.’
She swung round then. The slanted smile on his face read that he was keeping score and it was one-nil to him.
‘I agreed to model some old jewels. Assuming that is what you mean, I think we understand each other.’
She saw a nerve work at his jaw and visualised a score board depicting one-all.
‘You make it sound as if what I ask you to do makes a difference to your answer, Tamara. I hardly think you need to pretend your standards are so exacting.’
God, he really was from the Dark Ages! It wasn’t as if she posed for page three, for goodness’ sake—she’d never been photographed in anything less than what most people wore to the supermarket in summer, and usually a lot more. But then he was trying to get her, wasn’t he?
‘I wasn’t pretending any such thing,’ she answered coolly. ‘What you ask of me simply makes a difference to how much I charge.’
‘And how much do you charge, Tamara, for say—one night?’
Tamara glowered at him. ‘Sex may be written into the contract of every other one of your female employees, Kaliq, but it is not in mine.’
‘What makes you think it needs to be written in,’ he purred, ‘when you know it goes without saying?’
Tamara felt a wave of heat rush over her, which threatened to drag her mind back to the place it had been in the early hours of the morning, but she tore herself away from his mesmerising look of intent, turned on her heel and began to walk down the street.
‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’
‘To catch my train.’
‘Then clearly, Tamara, you are not charging enough.’ Kaliq reached out and caught hold of her arm, spinning her round to face him.
‘Public
