Modern Romance April 2017 Books 5 - 8. Кейт Хьюит
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her. The realisation both annoyed and hurt and in one gulp she took the oyster in her mouth and it slithered down her throat.
‘Delicious?’ Malik prompted, and Gracie tried not to make a face. She wasn’t as adventurous as all that, apparently. ‘They’re an aphrodisiac, you know.’
‘So I’ve heard,’ Gracie returned tartly. ‘I remain unconvinced.’
‘You need convincing?’
Her heart lurched, tangling with her ribs. ‘Don’t, Malik,’ she said quietly, not daring to say more, and Malik sat back, watching her with a thoughtful, assessing gaze.
For lack of anything else to do she ate another oyster on her own. Malik took one of his langoustines and cracked it open in one swift movement, neatly extracting the tail meat.
‘I think you’ve lived a very quiet life for the last ten years,’ he said.
‘If you mean I haven’t gone to places like this and eaten oysters, then you’d be right,’ Gracie retorted, stung.
‘It wasn’t meant to be a criticism.’
‘Funny, it felt like one. I’ve liked my life fine, you know, but obviously I still seem like a country bumpkin to you.’ She heard the throb of hurt in her voice and closed her eyes. Why had she said that?
‘Grace.’ Malik’s voice was like a caress. ‘I never thought of you like that.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ She plucked another oyster and popped it into her mouth. She was almost starting to like these suckers. ‘As you said before, that was the past, and this is the present. The last thing either of us needs to do now is a postmortem on that ill-conceived night a million years ago.’
Malik tilted his head. ‘Ill-conceived?’ he repeated softly, and Gracie flushed.
‘Of course I didn’t mean it like that. Sam is the best thing that ever happened to me.’
‘And to me,’ Malik said with such heartfelt sincerity that Gracie was left blinking, her mouth opening and closing without a word coming out.
‘But you don’t even know him,’ she managed.
‘I will remedy that situation tomorrow,’ Malik returned. ‘Happily.’
‘And who do I tell him you are?’ Gracie asked. ‘How do I explain this huge holiday?’
‘Do ten-year-old boys need explanations for holidays?’ Malik asked with a whimsical lift of his brows. ‘I doubt he will question it.’
Gracie acknowledged this truth silently. Sam would be thrilled to go on holiday. He certainly wouldn’t care how or why it came to pass. Maybe she really needed to let go of her resistance. Because it was her resistance, not Sam’s. She was afraid of Malik. Afraid of being tempted. Hurt. And that simply wasn’t a good enough reason to dig in her heels.
She knew then that she could not deny her son his heritage or his birthright simply because of her own nervousness—and attraction.
‘Very well,’ she said, and tried to ignore the shiver of apprehension—and excitement—that went through her at the simple fact of her acquiescence.
‘Good. I will arrange for you and Sam to be picked up tomorrow morning.’
‘Where will you be?’
‘I have business to see to, but I will meet you at the airstrip, on the royal jet.’
The royal jet. Could things get any more fantastic? Gracie swallowed dryly. She could hardly believe she was agreeing to this, and yet she felt a quiver of excitement low in her belly...and wondered just exactly what she was excited about. ‘Very well,’ she said again, and Malik subjected her to another brilliant smile.
* * *
‘You have convinced her?’ Asad demanded. Malik gazed at his grandfather’s face on the screen of his laptop and tried to ignore the churning mixture of guilt and anticipation that had soured his gut since he’d left Gracie two hours before.
She’d looked so unsure, fragile and hopeful at the same time. As she’d slipped out of the limo, one slender hand on the door, Malik had fought the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her. In that moment he had remembered exactly how soft her lips had felt, and how sweet she’d tasted. And he’d wanted to reacquaint himself with both sensations.
‘See you tomorrow?’ she’d said, a questioning lilt in her voice, as if she could scarcely believe she was really going with him.
‘Tomorrow,’ Malik had promised, and he’d waited until she’d gone into her flat before he’d ordered the driver to start the journey back to his five-star hotel in Chicago.
‘Yes.’ Malik’s reply was terse. He’d convinced Gracie to come to Alazar, but there was so much she still didn’t know—that Sam was his heir, that Sam’s place and her own had to be in his country. That they would marry. Considering how much resistance she’d put up to a two-week visit, Malik could only imagine her reaction when he told her of his true intentions.
And yet...he’d seen excitement in Gracie’s eyes. Desire, too. She remembered how it had been between them. And he believed she was eager for new experiences, perhaps even a new life. Convincing her of all the advantages would be a challenge, but one he was capable of rising to. He had to be.
‘You will marry as soon as you arrive,’ Asad stated, and Malik forced the irritation from his voice as he answered levelly.
‘We will marry when I decree the time is right.’
‘Sam must be legitimised as soon as possible—’
‘I know.’ Realistically Malik knew he could enforce his will as soon as Gracie was on the royal jet. She’d have few alternatives other than to do as he commanded, and yet he resisted that roughshod approach. It would only embitter Gracie, and perhaps Sam, as well. Time was of the essence, but he hoped he could accomplish what he needed to in a gentler manner. Not, he acknowledged, that he even knew how to be gentle.
Playing soft with Gracie tonight had been an exercise in dramatics, and yet he’d found he’d meant some of it. He’d certainly enjoyed those brief touches, and the light flirting. Watching her eat oysters had been an exquisite torture.
‘In any case,’ he told Asad, ‘I must end the engagement to Johara before I marry another. That will be a delicate matter.’
‘True.’ A cough racked Asad’s body. ‘Still, you must work quickly. Any whispers of instability...’
‘I know.’ The country’s peace was still a new and untested thing. The sooner Malik was married with an heir in place, the better. ‘Leave it to me, Grandfather. I can manage it.’
With a terse farewell Malik disconnected the video call. Staring out at the lights of the city, he realised he could not ease his regret and uncertainty. He didn’t like deceiving Gracie, and yet he knew he had no choice. Alazar had to come first.
Restlessly Malik rose from his seat and paced the elegant confines of his penthouse suite. He didn’t like being reminded of the boy he’d once been. He’d been so innocent at twenty-two, so woefully inexperienced in every way. His life had been about training and waiting, and then he’d been catapulted into the harsh realities of adulthood when Alazar had been plunged into near civil war.
Being with Gracie tonight had brought him back to that boy. Made him feel hope and desire and something deeper than either, and that was dangerous. He needed Gracie, yes, but only as a matter of expediency. He had no intention of feeling anything for her, of giving in to emotion or, worse, love. Those feelings were signs of weakness and led to destruction. His father had certainly shown him that. Malik could still remember the look of utter despair on his father’s face, the sobs that had continually racked his body. The shell of a person he’d become. All he intended to feel for Gracie, he assured himself, was simple sexual desire—and that would soon be sated.