He slanted her a smile. The kind of smile which women had told him was like being caught beneath the full force of the sun. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ he said softly.
‘Even though you are currently in the market for a royal bride?’
His smile died. ‘That isn’t going to happen overnight, Jazz. Even though speed is of the essence—I don’t anticipate taking a wife before the end of the year.’
‘And during that brief window of opportunity, we’ll be lovers?’
‘I knew you would understand,’ he breathed.
‘Oh, I understand all right.’ The fire in her eyes was back and so too was the mulish tilt of her chin. ‘I understand that you’re an arrogant man with an overdeveloped sense of entitlement, who treats women like toys he can just pick up and toss away once he’s had enough of them.’
She took a step closer, like a boxer squaring up to an opponent in the ring.
‘Do you really think I’m going to hang around here, waiting for one of your rare visits—ready to drop everything when you deign to show your face-and then simply fall into bed with you?’
‘How dare you speak to me this way?’
‘While in the meantime,’ she continued remorselessly, ‘you’re out there courting every eligible princess the desert region has to offer in order to find yourself a suitable bride?’
‘That’s a very extreme way of looking at it,’ he bit out.
‘It’s the truth, Zuhal,’ she said. ‘What other way is there to look at it?’
He glowered at her. ‘I have been completely straight with you, Jazz. Perhaps you would do me the honour of returning the favour. And if you don’t want to be my lover, then how do you intend spending your time?’
Jasmine sucked in a deep breath, knowing she needed to be strong. Or at least she needed to appear strong. Zuhal didn’t have to know she wanted intimacy just as much as he did—the difference being that for her it spelt emotional danger. ‘You are planning to live your life as you see fit, Zuhal,’ she said quietly. ‘And I’m going to do exactly the same. I’m going to be the best mother I can, and to accommodate your wishes where Darius is concerned. But I’m also going to live my own life. I plan to make friends and forge a future for myself.’
‘With a man?’ he shot out instantly.
Jasmine couldn’t deny the pleasure she got from the dark look of jealousy which crossed his features and made his shadowed jaw clench. And although the thought of being anywhere near any man other than Zuhal made her feel violently sick, he didn’t have to know that.
‘Who knows what I will do? I’m young and free and single,’ she said, with a carelessness she hoped didn’t sound faked. ‘And this is England, Zuhal. Where men and women are equal.’
He gave an angry snort, a pulse flickering wildly at his temple as he walked away without another word, and Jasmine was surprised that the loud slamming of the front door hadn’t woken the baby.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS is waiting for you in the drawing room, mistress.’
Pausing in the middle of unbuckling Darius from a buggy the size of a small car, Jasmine hid her frown as she was met by a nervous-looking Rania. She’d learnt it was pointless to ask the nanny not to call her ‘mistress’, just as she’d learnt she had absolutely no control over the Sheikh’s movements in her life. That he turned up when he felt like it and, of course, could walk right in whenever he wanted to because there was always Rania or a bodyguard to let him in. And because he owned it, of course. She might be the one who was living here, but Zuhal was the one who had paid for the apartment and everything it contained. Sometimes it felt as if he owned her, too.
It wasn’t an ideal situation, because every time he arrived she had to fight an instinctive urge to touch him—and how crazy was that? Just as she had to fight the desire to stare at him and drink in all his power and his hard, masculine beauty—because remembering just how good it felt to be in his arms would do her no favours at all. He flew into London once a week on business and Jasmine tried to make herself scarce whenever he arrived to see his son, although Rania was always on hand to meekly obey his orders. Because pretending they were a happy family was nothing but a mockery of the harsh reality.
And because she didn’t want to get stuck into a doomed pattern of togetherness, which would be shattered when he found himself a royal bride.
But every time Zuhal left, she had to go through the process of eradicating him from her mind, telling herself that meaningless sex with her ex-lover was a bad idea in every respect, no matter how much her body craved it or how fierce the unspoken attraction which always seemed to sizzle between them. She’d had her chance and she’d done the right thing in turning it down. That ship had sailed.
Rania stepped forward. ‘Let me take Darius for you, mistress.’
‘Thanks, Rania—but I’ll do it. I think he’s teething because he was up for most of the night. He was a bit cranky in the clinic this morning, but the nurse said he’s coming on leaps and bounds.’
Nervously, Rania cleared her throat. ‘This is excellent news, mistress, but His Royal Highness will not enjoy being kept waiting.’
‘I’m sure he won’t,’ said Jasmine, a renewed cheerfulness washing over her, despite her lack of sleep. ‘But maybe it will do him good.’
‘You think so?’ A silken voice came filtering through the air and Jasmine felt all the little hairs on the back of her neck prickling in anticipation as Zuhal entered the hallway with noiseless stealth. She could sense his presence with every soft footstep he took towards her and it took a moment for her to compose herself so that her expression would register indifference, rather than desire. She looked up to meet his gleaming eyes as, pausing only to trace the tip of a finger over his son’s soft cheek, he turned to the Razrastanian nanny. ‘Rania, will you mind taking care of Darius so that I can speak to Jazz in private?’
‘Certainly, Your Royal Highness.’