A Diamond For The Sheikh's Mistress. Эбби Грин

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 edge to his voice after that memory. ‘They found the diamond recently, during an archaeological dig. It was a cause of much celebration and my people have seen it as a good omen for the future.’

      Kat’s hands were clasped in her lap. ‘I’m very happy for you...and them...but I fail to see what this has to do with me.’

      Zafir said carefully, ‘It has everything to do with you, Kat, because I’ve chosen you to be the model who will wear the diamond on our worldwide diplomatic tour to promote Jandor.’

      * * *

      The sheer arrogance of Zafir’s pronouncement rendered Kat speechless for a moment. And then she spluttered, ‘But that’s ridiculous. I’m working here. I have a life here. I have no intention of going anywhere with you.’

      Zafir stood up, and as if she hadn’t spoken he said, ‘It’s a very select tour. The first function is the evening after tomorrow, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Then we and the diamond go to London, then Paris and then back to Jandor, where it will be put on permanent display.’

      Kat stood up, quivering all over with volatile emotions. ‘There is no we in this, Zafir.’

      ‘If it had gone according to my plan, then, yes, I agree—I would have no need of you. But my chief aide came up with the idea of showing off the diamond in an infinitely more accessible way—instead of keeping it in a sterile environment, we will display it on a beautiful woman and have her meet and greet specially selected guests with us at each function, so that they can see how the gem really glows with a life force. It will bring the gem—and Jandor—alive.’

      Kat folded her arms against the terrifying thought of people clamouring around her, too close, staring at her, pawing at her to get to the stone. One of the side effects of the accident she’d been involved in was that she felt claustrophobic in certain situations where she felt trapped.

      She shook her head. ‘No way, Zafir. I’m not interested. And surely if this is to promote your country, then you should be using a model from Jandor.’

      Kat saw the steely glint in Zafir’s eyes. It meant that he’d most likely anticipated every one of her arguments and was ready to counter them.

      ‘We don’t yet have a modelling agency in Jandor, but we do have aspiring fashion designers who are eager to showcase some of their designs during this tour. Also, I want someone who has the poise and grace of an experienced model—and they don’t come more experienced than you.’

      Feeling desperate, she said, ‘There are a million models just as experienced as me—if not more.’ A hint of bitterness crept into her voice. ‘Models who don’t come with negative baggage. If I appear in public with you as Kat Winters, the press will have a field day and all those stories will get raked up again.’

      Kat sent up silent thanks now that their break-up had occurred before the official public announcement of their engagement had been made.

      ‘Yes, they might,’ he conceded, ‘and I’ve considered that. But I have an excellent PR team, who will field any of the old stories and drown them out with this new one. Resurrecting Kat Winters to wear the most famous rediscovered gem in the world will be an irresistible story.’

      Kat went cold inside as the full extent of Zafir’s cool calculation sank in. Her involvement would be purely to provide an angle. Something to fire up the headlines even at the expense of negativity. Everything Zafir was outlining was literally her worst nightmare. She felt panicky. She wasn’t prepared to step back into the world of Kat Winters again—not for anyone.

      She shook her head. ‘The answer is no, Zafir. Now, please leave. I’m tired.’

      But of course Zafir didn’t turn around to leave, much as Kat wished he would. Even as she felt the betraying hum of awareness that flowed like illicit nectar through her blood.

      ‘Obviously I wouldn’t expect you to do this for free, Kat. I would be willing to pay handsomely for one of the world’s most sought-after and elusive models. I’m well aware of the fees you once commanded, and as your credit history shows a lack of ability to hang on to your earnings, it looks like you’re not really in a position to turn down such a lucrative contract.’

      He illustrated his point with a sweeping glance around her studio apartment.

      Kat’s hands curled into fists. Of all the patronising—She stopped just as she was about to blurt something out. Something that would make those far too incisive eyes narrow on her and make him start asking questions again.