Royal Families Vs. Historicals. Rebecca Winters

time do you need? I was going to leave first thing in the morning and it’s already…” He looked around and swore lightly. “There are no such things as clocks anymore.”

      Releasing her, he found his cell phone and clicked to see it was nearing midnight. He dropped the phone into his pocket, then left his hand there with it. He raised the other to pinch his bottom lip.

      “I have meetings in the morning. Come later in the day. I’ll make the arrangements.”

      “I can make my own arrangements,” she informed him, but with a rueful purse of her lips. “Which I realize you just heard as agreement.” She sighed and touched her brow. “I could call my mother, see if she feels like spending the night in Paris with Trella. Does anyone ever say no to you, Kasim?”

      “They realize very quickly that it is a waste of both our time. You, apparently, are a slow learner.”

      “Don’t,” she said with a little flinch. “It’s still a sore point for me. I can cut out a perfect square meter of fabric by sight, but ask me to add one half to three quarters and I just embarrass myself. Now I’m going to put on fresh lipstick.” Her hand shook as she picked up the little golden tube and pointed it at him. “Keep your lips to yourself.”

      “Come here first,” he commanded, compelled to reinforce the connection between them.

      She paused in winding up the stick of color, sent him a pert look. “Saying ‘no’ would just be a waste of a layer of lipstick, wouldn’t it?”

      “Look at you. You’re actually very quick to learn.”

      She rolled her eyes, but she came across to kiss him.

       CHAPTER SIX

      IF I NEED YOU, I’ll call.

      Trella’s words dogged Angelique as she stole off to London. They weren’t telling any of the family that Angelique was leaving Trella for a night on her own in Paris. Better to let it be a fait accompli, they decided, given how reluctant their brothers had been to let Trella make the short flight alone.

      Trella had passed her own test “with flying colors,” she had excitedly said about her solitary flight, quite triumphant in her achievement.

      Angelique had been so proud, she’d had a little cry about it, which had made Trella laugh and hug her and call her their sensitive little Gili.

      Nevertheless, Angelique felt guilty for leaving. Trella was very safe. Situated on the top floor of the design house, the Paris flat was ultra-secure. Seamstresses and other staff came and went from the lower floors, working into the night if the mood took, but the flat had its own entrance, a panic room and a private passage to the office.

      Trella had been very heartfelt in her plea for Angelique to do something for herself for a change.

      I’ve held you back too long, Trella had insisted, then added with a sly look, Besides, I’m curious about Henri and Cinnia. See what you can find out.

      Angelique had laughed at that, but if Trella had a setback, she would never forgive herself.

      Deep down, however, she was anxious to see Kasim again. It was a foreign state of mind for her. After Trella’s experience, she’d spent her adolescence wary of boys and sex. When she finally started to date, she had been hard-pressed to find men who measured up to the standards her father and brothers had set. When her suitors had fallen off because her life was too restrictive, or proved to be social climbers or other opportunists, she’d been annoyed and disappointed, but never truly hurt.

      She had never been taken with any man. None had engaged her feelings very deeply and she had never, ever, allowed a man to come between her and her family.

      In some ways, she was terrified of the influence Kasim was having on her. He fascinated her and thus had power over her. He was confident and secure in himself, almost brutally honest, but that lack of subterfuge was as seductive as the rest of him.

      And oh, did he seduce! From a physical standpoint, she was completely infatuated. Her blood raced as she silently willed the driver into London after the family jet landed at the private airfield.

      She hadn’t given Trella many details about her evening with Kasim, but her sister had said with a sensual lift of her own hair, I know you slept with him. Don’t deny it. I’m kind of jealous, actually. In a good way. It makes me realize what I’m missing.

      That had made Angelique very self-conscious, but she knew Trella was interpreting her body language. They had the same expressions and mannerisms so even though Angelique could disguise her thoughts and feelings from many, her sister would read the indolent stretch or the warmed cheek and soft gaze of pleasant memory without effort.

      Trella didn’t tease her for it, and when Angelique studied Trella, she saw nothing but determination in her sister at being left alone this evening.

      Kasim had been right about Angelique suffering survivor’s guilt. She wondered if it was the reason she had given up so easily on her previous relationships. Being happy when her sister had been struggling had always felt incredibly disloyal.

      She still felt disloyal, haring off to London to be with a man, but it was only one night, she told herself. Kasim hadn’t promised anything else and neither had she for that matter, even though she felt a yearning for more.

      Not that she’d defined exactly what “more” would be. The artist in her appreciated that whatever they had was too new and special for close examination. Deconstruction could kill it. Sometimes you had to go with instinct, then determine after the fact what you had.

      Was this instinct? Or greed and selfishness? Or old-fashioned blindness to obvious facts?

      Exactly the type of scrutiny she had to avoid, she thought with a stifled sigh.

      Whatever it was, it drew her inexorably. Her pulse was racing over a single text from Kasim, promising to meet her at her brother’s flat within the hour.

      It was actually the family flat. Knowing Henri was in New York, Angelique assumed Cinnia was staying in her own flat, but texted her as a courtesy, mentioning that she was in town and asking if Cinnia wanted to get together for a meal.

      Cinnia’s reply came through as Angelique was letting herself in. It was a simple regret that she was staying with her mother and was sorry she had missed the chance to visit.

      Angelique put her bag in the room she and Trella used, checked that there was a decent bottle of wine in the fridge and moved restlessly into the lounge, wondering if she and Kasim were going out for dinner and if so, where? What should she wear?

      Paparazzi. Ugh, she thought with another sigh, but for once she wasn’t filled with as much dread as usual. She would have hated to have her night with Kasim reduced by the online trolls to a one-night stand, sullied and mocked, even though she’d gone to his room last night convinced it would be only that.

      Having this affair extend into a second night made it feel—Well, it still felt so rare and precious she wanted to guard it jealously, but she was so thrilled to see him again, she was willing to pay the price.

      “Oh, no,” she murmured, jerked from introspection as she caught sight of the coffee table.

      A courier envelope had been torn open and the contents spilled out. It was at least a hundred thousand euros in jewelry, probably more. It looked like the contents of Ali Baba’s cave, glittering and sparkling innocently against the glass tabletop.

      Angelique sat down hard on the sofa, chest tight. She thought about texting Trella, but Henri was the most private of all of them. He would kill her if he knew she had seen this. She couldn’t share it like tawdry gossip, not even with Trella.

      But what had gone wrong?

      Henri was adamant in his decision never to marry, but he and Cinnia had seemed so good together.