One Night Of Consequences Collection. Annie West
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for her as she was for him.
Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment. The room disappeared. The world. It was just the two of them. As it always had been when they’d come together. Like magic.
‘Nadir,’ she whispered, shuddering against him as his strong fingers followed the line of her spine, spanning her waist before dropping lower to cup her bottom and bring her even closer. Unbearably close. Imogen squirmed and forked her hands into his hair to anchor herself to him, one leg already rising to rest over his lean hip.
And then suddenly she was free and he had stepped back from her, reaching out to steady her as she stumbled without his body weight to hold her up. ‘It seems I still turn you on as well, hmm, habibi?’
What?
Dazed, she blinked up at him and then his condescending words hit her and she was instantly appalled at her behaviour.
Had he just kissed her to prove a point? To prove how weak she was when it came to him? To prove how much power he still had over her? Her face flamed and she was so angry she wanted to punch him.
Realising just how close she was to hitting someone for the first time in her life, she lowered her bunched fists to her sides. ‘Don’t ever touch me again.’ Was she hyperventilating? She placed a hand against her chest. It felt as if she was hyperventilating. ‘I hate you, Nadir. I really hate you.’
‘Don’t be stupid about this, Imogen,’ he rasped, pulling his phone from his pocket again. ‘You can’t provide everything our daughter needs and I want her to grow up secure.’
‘I want that too. Which is why I would never marry you.’
From the stiffening of his spine she could see that he didn’t like that. ‘Be serious,’ she continued desperately, trying to appeal to his rational side. ‘You never wanted Nadeena.’
‘I may not have planned Nadeena.’ His expression grew fierce. ‘But she is here and this is the best solution.’
Imogen’s nostrils flared as if she was a lioness sensing danger. Nadeena’s emotional welfare was on the line and Imogen had vowed a long time ago that she would rather be a single mother than have her child raised by a parent who didn’t want her. Especially the autocratic tyrant Nadir had turned into. But then maybe he had always been that way. She had never challenged him before, had she? ‘This is the worst solution.’
Nadir put the phone to his ear. ‘Bjorn, tell Vince we’ll be at the airport within the hour.’
He rang off and Imogen felt icy-cold with dread. ‘You selfish bastard,’ she raged raggedly. ‘You won’t even consider my needs.’
‘Actually, I would say I was considering them very well.’
‘Ha!’ she scorned. ‘You’re nothing but a bully.’
His eyes flashed a warning she was in no mood to heed. ‘Careful, Imogen. I will only tolerate so much from you.’
‘Like I care,’ she fumed, restless energy making her muscles vibrate. ‘You can’t do this, you know. I have rights.’
She stared at him as if she really knew what she was talking about but inside she was quaking. Not that she’d let him see that. The stakes were far too high for him to think that he had the upper hand. For him to assume that she was a pushover.
‘What you have,’ he said in a carefully modulated tone, his face a cold mask, ‘is my child.’
A discreet knock at the door interrupted the stark silence that followed that statement and Nadir turned to answer it.
‘And Imogen?’ She glanced at him, hoping he was about to tell her this had all been a joke. ‘You will marry me.’
It was a great parting shot, she thought as she sagged against the arm of the sofa and speared wishful daggers into his broad back. But she would have the last word because she would never marry a man she didn’t love.
THE PLANE TOOK OFF into the air and Nadir wondered if he needed to have his head examined for bringing Imogen and Nadeena to Bakaan with him.
He could have easily had Bjorn or any one of his men watch her. And what was with the announcement that he was going to marry her?
He scowled. He hadn’t intended to blurt it out like that but hell, that woman could make him do things he’d never intended to do. She always could.
Back in Paris it had been her coy smiles to get him to play tourist or to laze around reading the Sunday papers over brunch. Who had time for that, anyway? Not him. And the fact that he’d done it still rankled.
He’d been so overcome with lust back then he’d let her call the shots. He wouldn’t do that again. Not that he was planning to be an asshole about it. He wasn’t. But nor was he going to be hoodwinked by her nice girl persona either. Hoodwinked by her innocent sexuality.
No. She’d run once. He wouldn’t give her the chance to do it again.
Still, he could have waited until he returned tomorrow afternoon before revealing his plan and he had no ready answer as to why he hadn’t.
Probably he’d still been shocked from finding her with his child. That had to be it. He gulped down a mouthful of water from the bottle his staff had handed him upon boarding. He noticed that Imogen hadn’t accepted one and he frowned.
She hadn’t said boo to him since they’d left his apartment and that was fine with him. All except for the way she made him feel that she was being some sort of martyr in coming with him. And why would she be?
It didn’t make sense. Was she still playing him in some way? Acting hard to get to whet his appetite? Not that it had worked. That kiss... He scrubbed a hand across his face, gulped down more water. He hadn’t meant to kiss her before, let alone back her against the wall. And he didn’t like to admit that he’d got lost in that kiss. Only the fact that she had as well had salved his pride.
Damn, but she tasted sweet. Exactly as he’d remembered. Even now his body throbbed with an inexplicable urge to have her. It was like a driving need. All-consuming. It had always bothered him. The extent of his need. Needing people led to emotional weakness, which led to mistakes being made. He knew that better than anyone and yet fifteen months ago he’d let himself be drawn into her silken web anyway.
Of its own accord, his mind returned to the Sunday afternoon he had found out she was pregnant—an extraordinary blue-sky summer day in Paris. Not wanting to think about his later flight home to New York, they had wandered around Paname—as the Parisians affectionately called their city. He had shown Imogen some of his favourite haunts and she’d dragged him around what felt like every flea market in the known universe. That was where he’d learned she adored Aubergine Provençal and that she was a hoarder of ancient postcards and scarves. The afternoon had ended with her vomiting over his toilet bowl and a doctor announcing her condition with a happy flourish that had floored him.
And okay, he hadn’t taken the news that well. What contented bachelor would? So he’d flown back to New York and called his thousand-dollar-an-hour lawyer.
‘First, establish the kid is yours.’
When Nadir had told him that was going to be a nine-month wait, his lawyer had shaken his head. ‘Not so,’ he’d said. ‘Modern medicine has moved right along. There’s a test, see. It’s called some amnio thing. I had to arrange one for a client a few months back. Boy, was he relieved when the results came back negative. The lady had been sleeping around. Tried to pin him with someone else’s kid.’
His lawyer had tsked in disgust and Nadir had murmured some agreement. Asking Imogen to take the test had made sense. So he’d texted her with the request. Perfectly reasonable in his view.
Finding