“So you’re saying I wasn’t truly your prisoner?”
He dipped his head forward, and pressed his lips lightly to hers. “No more than I am yours.”
She frowned. His kiss, his scent, his nearness. It was intoxicating. She sobbed silently. “I have to go.”
“You do not have to do anything.”
She lifted her hands to his broad chest. She could feel his rhythmic breathing beneath her palms. The beating of his heart. Steady and unmoved, it thumped solidly and slowly. His heart was not touched by her. Not in the way hers was.
She blinked. He was wrong.
Leaving was essential. Both to her survival and her sanity. “Will you contact me about a divorce?”
He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He had sworn that he would tell her. That night. That he would be honest with her. But the perfect moment had approached, and passed him by.
“I will handle the logistics.” He lifted her hand to his mouth. He wanted… he couldn’t have said. He only knew that he didn’t want this.
“Olivia… letting you go is difficult for me. Please understand that it is a sign of how I feel about you that I am allowing you to leave me.”
Her heart turned over. Was it enough? Would it one day be enough for her that he wanted her there, even if he didn’t ever love her?
It couldn’t be.
If she only loved him less.
She ran her thumb over his lips, then stepped away. “I really am sorry. About Marni.”
His gut clenched. “Don’t apologise to me, Azeezi.”
As he watched Olivia walk away, he wondered desperately how he could stop her. Legally, she was his subject, and he was in command of all he surveyed. But not her. He couldn’t do it to her.
He pushed the door to his office shut, and forced himself to refocus. A month ago, he hadn’t known she existed. He had lived without her just fine. He could do it again. Couldn’t he?
Of course he could. He was Sultan Tamir Al’ani, and no one: woman, man or baby, could humble him. He had been born to rule, and he would continue to do so, until the day he died. With or without Olivia Anderson.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I can’t possibly have another one,” she groaned, eyeing off the tequila shot dubiously.
Jack pushed it towards her. “Come on. I can still see tears in your eyes. Bottoms up, girl.”
She grimaced, but lifted the yellow liquid to her lips. She hesitated at first, then threw it back in one swift motion. It burned the whole way down, causing Olivia to blink and shake her head. “Phwooaaar, that’s disgusting.”
Jack nodded. “You get used to it after a while. How many’s that?”
Olivia eyed off the empty glasses. “Three. Three too many,” she grimaced.
“Enough to accept my apology?”
She eyed him thoughtfully, her green eyes shining in his face. “You know I don’t need you to apologise. I understand you better than anyone.”
“I was an arse, babe. I should never have gone with you that day. I knew it would be too tempting.”
She nodded, stretching her mouth to deal with the unfamiliar and astringent taste of almost pure alcohol. “You shouldn’t have come. But I understand that you’re not a thief, Jack.”
He grimaced. “If you hadn’t saved me, I’d probably be rotting in some foreign prison.”
She nodded again. “More than likely.”