‘May I suggest that you mention my name to your employer before you begin informing me of my rights?’ Rafiq drawled coolly.
‘Is that a threat?’ she demanded.
Rafiq’s answer was a polite bow of his head meant to leave the question open to interpretation. ‘Good day to you, Miss Elliot,’ was all he said.
But the woman had sense, Rafiq allowed, as he watched her self-confidence begin to waver. She wasn’t sure about him and therefore took the wiser route: lifting her chin and stepping through the door.
He closed it behind her, took a moment to grit his teeth. Then he was moving across the kitchen on his way to find Melanie. He located her in the bedroom, where she stood in the window gazing out on yet another cold grey frost-grained day. The room was no warmer, the woman in it was as cold as ice. Anger roared. A bloody anger aimed at Serena, at the press, Miss Elliot and anyone else who thought they could meddle in his life!
‘Your cynical friend stole my thunder,’ he announced very grimly.
‘Don’t try telling me you came back here to confess your sins.’
‘It is not a sin for a single man to maintain a mistress,’ he countered. ‘And I was referring to…this.’
‘This’ arrived on the tallboy beside her left shoulder. Melanie turned to see what it was he was talking about. It might have been Sophia’s Spanish newspaper, only the glaring headline shouted at her in English and the date printed on it was today’s. It was one of the more down-market British tabloids.
‘Now you may read the whole article for yourself,’ Rafiq said cynically. ‘It has been spiced up since the original Spanish version was written. But—please…’ he flicked a long hand in invitation ‘…enjoy—if you are into this kind of trash.’
‘I never read newspapers.’
He had noticed their lack of evidence about the house. ‘Well, read this one,’ he advised, shot back a shirt-cuff, then strode towards the door.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I have things to do.’
‘Aren’t you even going to explain about this?’
‘What is there to explain?’ he countered. ‘Serena Cordero and I were lovers until recently. But that, and the fact that she decided to use this very public source to announce the end of that relationship, has nothing to do with you, quite frankly.’
‘It does when that announcement also came on the same day that I went to see you.’
‘You see this coincidence as significant?’
She folded her arms across her body again. ‘You changed,’ she told him. ‘After you took a call on your mobile. It was her on the phone, wasn’t it? That call gave you the idea of using me to save your face.’
‘It crossed my mind,’ he admitted. ‘But if you recall, Melanie, I still threw you out.’ She flinched at the reminder. He nodded in acceptance of what that flinch represented. ‘And if you believe that anything I have done since then has been due to a need to save my face, then there is really nothing left for me to say here.’ With that he turned back to the door.
‘Then why did you bother to come back here now?’
‘Courtesy,’ he said icily. ‘I believed I owed you the courtesy of an explanation for why this article appeared in the newspaper today. But since you and your—friend have already dissected the week-old version, I see I wasted my time.’
‘Wasted nearly a whole week of your time,’ she murmured bitterly.
He paused. ‘What is that supposed to imply?’
‘I am not going to marry you.’
‘Why not?’
She lowered her eyes. ‘You’re in love with her. She’s what you really want.’
He laughed; it was harsh. ‘If I’d wanted to marry Serena I could have done so at any time over the last year,’ he announced. ‘But what interests me here is that you seem to be thinking that loving someone is a prerequisite for marriage.’
‘I don’t think that.’ She stiffened. ‘I just don’t want to marry a man who is pining for someone else.’
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