Julia lay there, stunned, gaping up at the stars. It took several minutes for her body to start to feel even remotely normal. Tiny little fires of need were raging throughout and she had to wait for each and every one of them to extinguish. When she finally felt more or less like herself, she stood from the bed. With fingers that shook, she pulled her underpants on. With a frown, she scooped the dress up, but it was split at the seam, so all she could do was hold it against her chest.
“I don’t understand,” she said quietly, walking over to Zayn, though it took all her courage to do so after his swift removal.
When he turned to look at her, his face was cold, his eyes bleak. “Don’t you?”
She shook her head, and her hair caught the moonlight as it moved with her. “No. I thought you wanted me.” It hurt her to say it. After all, she’d promised herself that whatever else might happen between them, she would keep her pride intact. That she would not beg him for more than he wanted to give her.
“I thought I did, too.”
“Then … what happened?”
Insolently, he raked his gaze over her, taking in the swell of cleavage visible behind the dress she’d bundled against herself. He crossed the room and scooped his shirt off the floor and tossed it towards her. “Put this on.”
On autopilot, she did as he’d suggested and slid the shirt over her head. It came down to her mid-thighs and swallowed her with its size.
“Zayn? What happened?”
“I realized that a woman willing to lay down for money is cheap, no matter what the price.”
His words hurt so much he might as well have stabbed her. Tears stung her eyes and despite her determination not to degrade herself in front of him, she let them fall.
“How dare you?” She whispered, but instead of sounding angry, it came out as a sob.
“I dare because you’ve just demonstrated how lax your morals are. My God, to think I once believed I desired you.”
Julia’s cheeks glowed pink. If only he knew how morally intact she was. A few more seconds and he would have known.
“You did this,” she said stonily. “You put me in this position. What did you expect me to do?”
“Not to fall into my bed on the first night I suggested it.” He was handling everything terribly, and he knew it, but it was like a juggernaught he couldn’t stop. He had hurt her, and he was hurting her still. And the fact that he longed to pull her into his arms and apologize and kiss away her tears was making him angrier and somehow more determined to push her away.
“You’re one to talk! You must have slept your way through half of Europe by now, and yet you have the nerve to lecture me on my morals?”
“Yes. It’s a double standard. And one I’m happy to apply to my wife.”
“Well, we seem to be at an impasse,” she snapped. “We’re married but it doesn’t look like sex is on the table. That’s fine by me, by the way,” she lied, “but you’re the one who made a point of specifying that ours would be a ‘real’ marriage.”
“I didn’t understand then how much of a turn-off it would be, to have a woman willing to have sex for money, in my bed.” He shrugged.
Julia had been raised to have impeccable manners, but she swore at him then. It was one step away from what she really wanted to do, which was to punch him hard in the stomach. “You know you’re painting me in a bad light. I would never have sex for money. I don’t know why you’re reducing us to that equation, but it’s not fair.”
“It’s the truth, isn’t it? Would you have married me without the financial inducements?”
She would have. In a heartbeat. At least, she would have married the Zayn she’d known years earlier, who had dazzled her with his intelligence, power, and sexy sweetness. If he’d shown up, she wouldn’t have been able to resist him. But instead, this despot had arrived in his place. And though her lust was as unshakable as ever, she couldn’t let him know that money wasn’t really the reason she’d agreed to their marriage. It had affected her timeline, certainly, but there was no reality imaginable in which Julia would be able to resist Zayn.
She shook her head wistfully. “I guess we’ll never know.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I know. I’ve known women like you all my life. I just never thought I’d end up married to one.”
She lifted her eyes to his, confusion and sadness in her heart. “What are you saying?”
He was silent as he took in her ravaged face. “I’m saying… I’m going out. Don’t wait up.” He stormed away from her without a backwards glance. He was afraid that if he looked at her again, he’d weaken. And he couldn’t afford to be weak with this woman.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She didn’t know if he came back. He hadn’t had the courtesy to show her to her bedroom, and she couldn’t have borne sleeping on the roof, in the romantic matrah that smelled of him. And she had way too much pride to admit to a servant that she didn’t know where the hell her bedroom was. And so she’d slept in the first room she’d found. It was definitely not his room, going from the distinctly neutral décor and lack of possessions. A guest room, she supposed, and that suited her fine. There was no lingering Zayn-ness there to make her heart weep.
After the tumult of the previous week, and the upset of that night, Julia had thought she would find sleep impossible, but it wasn’t. She was bone-weary, and almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep dreamless sleep. So deep that she wasn’t aware of Zayn opening the door somewhere before dawn. He stood and watched her silently. Watched as her chest rose and fell rhythmically; as the lighting outside changed and the skein of moonlight across her face gave way to an apricot and peach hue. He watched her and he wondered what the hell he was going to do with his beautiful prisoner.