Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters

she had travelled in what seemed like several centuries ago now were scattered somewhere in Zahir’s chambers. Much as she dreaded going back there, she had no alternative.

      Turning on her heel, she set off, fighting back the tears as she hurtled down the corridors, down the stairs, Zahir following right behind her.

      ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

      Anna quickened her pace, grateful that for once her sense of direction wasn’t letting her down. She recognised this corridor. She knew where she was.

      ‘I’m going to collect my clothes from your rooms and then I’m leaving.’

      ‘Not tonight, you’re not.’ He was right by her shoulder, effortlessly keeping pace with her.

      ‘Yes, tonight.’ She had reached his door now, flinging it open, relieved to find it wasn’t locked. She marched into his bedroom, switching on the light, hardly able to bring herself to look at the room that such a short space of time ago had been the scene of such joy. There was her dress, laid out on the bed like a shed skin, a previous incarnation. She rushed over to it, struggling to pull the nightgown over her head, not caring that apart from a pair of panties she was naked—that Zahir, who was standing silently in the doorway, was watching her every move, branding her bare skin with his eyes.

      What did it matter? What did any of it matter now?

      Stepping into the dress, she tugged up the back zipper as far as she could then cast around looking for her boots. Finding one, she clutched it to her chest and headed for the door, desperate to get out of this hateful den of misery while she still had the strength and the breath to do it.

      But Zahir stood in the doorway, blocking her way.

      ‘There is no need for this, Annalina.’ Anna felt the searing heat of his hand wrap around her upper arm.

      ‘On the contrary, there is every need.’ She jerked her arm but it only made his grip tighten still further. ‘Do you seriously think I would stay here a moment longer? Now I know that I am nothing more than a mistake, an error of judgement?’ The words fell from her mouth like shards of glass.

      ‘You will stay here until the morning.’ He looked down at her, eyes wild and black, his heavy breath, like that of an angry bull, fanning the top of her head. ‘I am not letting you leave while you’re in this hysterical state.’

      Hysterical state? The sheer injustice of his words misted her eyes red. Didn’t she have every right to be hysterical? Didn’t she have the right to scream and rant and rave—join Rashid in his madness, in fact—after the way Zahir had treated her tonight?

      Yanking herself free from his clutch, she ducked under his arm and into the outer room, seizing her other boot and hopping from foot to foot as she pulled them on.

      ‘I’ll tell you what’s hysterical, Zahir.’ She spoke over her back, refusing to look at him. ‘Me thinking that we could ever make a go of this marriage.’ She straightened up, flinging her hair over her shoulders as her eyes darted around, searching for her bag and her phone. ‘That we could be a proper couple, partners, lovers. That I could be a good wife to you. That what we did last night…a few hours ago…whenever the hell it was…’ she choked on a rising sob ‘…was actually something very special.’

      She stopped, making herself drag in a ragged breath before she passed out completely, shaking with misery, rage and the miserable injustice of it all.

      But suddenly, there in the darkest moment, she saw the gleam of truth. Suddenly she realised she had nothing to lose any more. The barriers between them had all come down, were flattened, destroyed. There was no reason to keep the very worst agony to herself any longer.

      ‘And do you want to know the most hysterical thing of all?’ She spun around now, pinning him to the spot with the truth of her stare, letting the rush of abandonment take control of her.

      ‘I’m in love with you, Zahir.’ A harsh laugh caught in her throat, coming out as a strangled scream. ‘How totally hysterical is that?’

       Chapter Thirteen

      ZAHIR FELT THE words drive through him like a knife in his guts. She was in love with him? How was that even possible?

      He stared back in numbed silence at the flushed cheeks, the glazed eyes, the tousled blonde hair that fell down over her heaving breasts.

      He longed to go to her, to break the spell, to pin her down, literally there on the floor where she stood blinking up at him. He wanted to make her say the words again, to feel them against his lips as he devoured her, made love to her again. But instead he hardened his heart. If it was true that she loved him, then that was all the more reason for him to do the right thing, the only thing, and set her free. Before he dragged her down, weakened her, destroyed her, the way he did anyone who was unfortunate enough to care for him. He simply couldn’t bear that to happen to Anna.

      ‘Well?’ Finally she spoke, her voice sounding hollow, empty. ‘Do you have nothing to say?’

      Zahir wrestled with his conscience, with his heart, with every damned part of his body that yearned to go to her.

      ‘It makes no difference to my decision, if that’s what you mean.’ His damning words were delivered with a cruel coldness born of bitter, desperate frustration. He watched as Annalina’s lovely face twitched, then crumpled, her lip trembling, her eyes glittering with the sheen of tears. He deliberately made himself watch the torture, because that was what it was. He had to feel the punishment in order to keep strong.

      ‘So…’ She pushed her hair away from her face with a shaky hand. ‘This is it, then?’ She spoke quietly, almost as if she was asking the question of herself. But her eyes held his, the pupils dilated, like twin portals to her soul.

      Zahir looked away. He couldn’t witness this, not even in the name of punishment.

      He sensed Annalina hesitate for a second, then heard a rustle and turned to see her slinging her bag over her shoulder and marching towards the door. A roar of frustration rang in his ears and he closed his eyes, digging his nails into the palms of his clenched fists. He would allow himself the indulgence of a couple of minutes of the agony before setting off after her.

      She was at the main entrance when he caught up with her, tugging furiously at the handle of the door that was securely locked, becoming ever more desperate as she heard him approach.

      ‘You are not leaving like this, Annalina.’ He stood behind her, solid, implacable.

      ‘No? Just try and stop me.’

      ‘And where exactly do you think you’re going, and how are you going to get there?’

      ‘I don’t know and I don’t care.’ She was banging her fists against the panelled door now. ‘And don’t pretend you care either. This is what you want, isn’t it? To be rid of me as soon as possible? I’ll find someone to take me to the airport and then you need never see me again.’

      Reaching over her shoulder, Zahir covered her flailing fists with one hand, but Annalina pulled them away from under him.

      ‘I mean it, Zahir. I can’t stay here a minute longer. I’m leaving now.’

      ‘Very well.’ Pulling his phone from his pocket, he made a call, punching in the code of the wall safe to retrieve the keys to both the front door and his SUV as he waited for the reply. He opened a wall cupboard, taking out a coat and passing it to Anna without meeting her eye.

      She was right. This was what he had told her he wanted: her gone, out of his life. The fact that it was tearing him apart only proved his point. Proved what a lethally dangerous combination they were. ‘I will drive you to the airport myself.’

      Anna listened as he ordered the jet to be put on standby, silently taking the coat