Mills & Boon New Voices: Foreword by Katie Fforde. Ann Lethbridge
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caresses, the early-morning walks, the late-night lovemaking, the look in his eyes when they’d been together—everything she could think of. How had she not realized it was only temporary?
Because it had felt like so much more. She wasn’t wrong about that. She couldn’t be.
But was that what her mother had thought too? Was that what had made her stay with a man who could never be hers, who’d kept her in a cage and expected her to be available whenever he wanted her?
She’d done this before, after they’d broken it off, and she was angry that she was suddenly being forced to reexamine the past after all this time. He’d accused her of needing her work more than she needed him, but it was so much more than that. Perhaps he finally realized it too.
Zafir was standing in the middle of a room, gazing down at the ruins of a mosaic on the floor. “There is much to be done here, yes?” he said, looking up and catching her staring at him.
Genie refused to look away. To do so would be to admit she’d been thinking of him and not of her work. That he’d caught her in an unguarded moment. Clearly he wasn’t as tormented by thoughts of the past as she was. He’d been thinking about the temple.
“It’s an extraordinary place,” she said, all business. “I believe the work could take a very long time. But I also think it’s a good decision to allow excavation here, even if you choose someone else to do it. This is an important site, and it should not be forgotten.”
He speared her with a determined look. “I do not intend to choose someone else.”
“I won’t let you down if you give this to me.”
“I know. It is why I made the deal in the first place.”
Genie bit her lip. Whether he believed her or not, she had to say it. “I slept with you because I wanted to, not for the temples.”
He waved a hand dismissively. “It matters not. The commission is yours.”
She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. She’d been feeling wounded and hurt, and now he’d managed to put her on the defensive. How did he do that? “Zafir, do you believe me or not?”
He strode toward her, stopping in a swirl of robes and dust. He looked suddenly angry. “Does it matter? You have got what you want.”
She swallowed as she gazed up at him, all six-foot-something of hard, arrogant male. He made her body ache just looking at him. Ridiculous the way her heart pounded. “I have never been dishonest with you, Zafir.”
“Outright? No. But omission is still a form of dishonesty. You never told me what happened between your parents.”
How dared he turn this around? He was the one at fault, not her. “What good would it have done? Besides, you were dishonest with me first.”
“We were dishonest with each other.”
The thought stung, and yet it wasn’t the same thing at all. “Why do we keep rehashing the past? It changes nothing. You still intended to marry a woman your father chose.”
“I was obligated, Genie.”
She slashed a hand through the air. “I know that, and I’m done talking about it.”
He caught her close, gripping her upper arms hard. “You were important to me, whether you believe it or not. And you have no idea what it is like not getting to make your own choices in life. No one has ever told you that you are required to give up everything you want for the greater good of your country.”
Genie jerked free from his grip. She didn’t fool herself that she was what he’d had to give up. “Maybe not, but do you think my life was any easier? You were born into privilege and accustomed to having the world at your fingertips. I had to work hard for every opportunity I ever got.” She took a step backward, putting distance between them, her body shaking with adrenaline and fury. “What would you know about sacrifice? You wanted me to sacrifice everything to be with you, yet you weren’t prepared to sacrifice a thing!”
The words echoed through the empty temple. Zafir’s gaze was hard, his nostrils flaring as they stared each other down. His voice, when he finally answered, was deadly cold. “You will never know what I’ve sacrificed. Do not presume to tell me I have no idea what the word means.”
Genie pulled in a shaky breath. Why did she get so emotional? Why did she let him press her buttons and make her so defensive? Her life had been upside down since the minute she’d walked into that tent and seen him sitting on the dais. And she was having a hell of a time getting it right again.
Zafir glanced at his watch, dismissing her as easily as he might one of his subjects. “If you are finished here, it’s time we returned to the palace.”
Before she could answer, he simply turned in a sweep of robes and headed toward the entrance.
He was furious. Furious with the woman sitting so quietly beside him in the car, and furious that he was allowing her to get to him when he had far more important things to think about.
Just this morning there’d been another threat to his life. He wasn’t worried. His security was tight and, besides, he knew there was always a certain level of disgruntlement to be expected when a new leader took office. The threats were vague, written on plain stationery and posted in Al-Shahar. The royal police were investigating, and Zafir had every confidence they would soon find the culprit.
At least one situation in his life required definite steps to take and had a resolution in sight. For that he was thankful.
But how did one correct a situation based on strong emotion and cultural differences? If he’d known about Genie’s childhood, would it have changed his actions?
Probably. Because he would have understood how painful it was to her, and would have realized how different their worlds were. He’d asked her to give up her schooling and come to Bah’shar for what amounted to nothing more than an affair.
And he’d done it for selfish reasons, which made him furious with himself. She’d filled the emptiness inside him and he’d been reluctant to give that up. And, he admitted to himself, he’d hoped that once she reached Bah’shar, once they’d been together for a while, even his marriage to a princess wouldn’t prevent Genie from staying as his lover.
He’d offered her nothing and expected her to give up everything, just like she’d said.
Worse, he wanted to do it again.
When they reached the palace, he left her in the care of Yusuf and turned his attention to the Sheikhs. It was time to reach a solution. And, after that, time to let Genie Gray walk out of his life for the second time.
The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Genie was shown to the palace library, where there was a vast selection of books, and did a bit of research on the history of Bah’shar. Her Arabic was tolerable, though her command of the Bah’sharan dialect left something to be desired, but she worked her way through a few texts as the hours passed.
She might have gotten through them more quickly if she’d been able to stop thinking about Zafir. He’d seemed unapproachable in the car on the way back to the palace, as if he’d closed himself off and meant to keep it that way.
Maybe she wouldn’t see him again. Maybe he’d issue orders that she was to be driven back to her camp and left there. The thought left her feeling empty and bereft. And angry—because why did she want to torture herself by spending more time in his company?
Being sent away was the best thing that could happen to her.
She did not belong here. Oh, she would return to excavate the temples—she wasn’t a fool—but she didn’t belong in the royal palace in the bed of the King. Nothing good could ever come of a relationship with Zafir. She knew because she hadn’t been able to stop herself from reading some of the Bah’sharan code. The King was duty-bound to take either a Bah’sharan wife or a royal one from a neighboring