“Ra’if?”
He stared down at her, a muscle jerking in his cheek, his eyes glowing with an emotion she couldn’t comprehend. “We need to speak,” he said finally, the words gravelled. “But not here.”
Melinda nodded. Her heart was racing now, but not purely from desire. There was anxiety there too.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jordan was fast asleep by the time they reached Putney. Ra’if carried him upstairs and laid him down in bed, leaving Melinda to settle the covers over him with care.
It was a cold night and her apartment, emptied for several hours, was icy. He crouched down beside one of the central heating units, looking at the dial.
“The timer function’s broken,” she said quietly, when she stepped into the lounge room.
He stood, a frown on his face. “You shouldn’t come home to an ice box.”
“I don’t.” She was uneasy. He hated that. “Most evenings, Maria is here and she sets it going.”
“Maria?”
“Brent’s mum. She collects Jordan on school days.”
He nodded. “Yes, you said that.”
They stared at one another, eyes clashing, asking, needing, wanting. “Ra’if,” she groaned finally, taking a step closer to him. “What’s going on?”
He nodded, not pretending to misunderstand. “When we began to see one another, we agreed this would be casual.” He came to her, putting his hands on her hips. She breathed in his fragrance and nearness, taking strength from his touch.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “That’s what we said.”
The response gave nothing away.
“I thought I could do that. But the more time I spend with you, the more I feel I need to tell you …”
“Ra’if?” She stared at him, completely off balance. “Who are you?”
The world around them was silent. It was just him and her, and the truth he probably should have given her a lot sooner. “I am Ra’if Fayez,” he said truthfully.
She blinked, waiting for that name to make sense. It was the first time he’d spoken his surname – strange how she’d let that slide – yet it didn’t seem completely foreign to her. There was a spark of familiarity, of recognition but her mind couldn’t quite place it. “Ra’if Fayez…?”
He silenced her with a tense smile. “Yes. What I have not tol
d you is that in my country, I am a powerful man.”
She was very still, her body held as though if she moved he might stop speaking.
“I can tell that,” she said finally, thinking that it was one of the first things she’d noticed about him – his ability to command. His name was racing through her head, tearing a path in the cobwebs, begging her to remember something vital. But she couldn’t quite grasp it.
“My brother …”
“Zami?” She recalled him having spoken about his brother on several occasions.
Ra’if nodded. “Zami is actually His Royal Highness Sheikh Zamir Fayez, King of Dashan.”
His Royal Highness.
Her eyes were enormous as she processed that revelation. Ra’if’s brother was a King?
When she spoke, the words were strained. “Did I hear that right?”