LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER FIVE

      KAZIM HAD PONDERED Amber’s words as they returned to their suite. Was she really refusing to be his wife in every way? Everything they’d spoken of over the meal had been merely small talk, as if they were strangers passing the time of day. His intention had been to get to know her better, but instead she’d become more distant, more unobtainable.

      Was she setting him a challenge? Or pushing him away?

      ‘You looked very beautiful tonight,’ he said as he closed the door of their suite a short while later. Would she slip further away from him now they were alone? ‘Very much like a princess.’

      A little shocked, he admitted to himself that he didn’t want her to slip away, but maybe it was for the best. Because right now he wanted more—much more—just as he had on their wedding night. Instinct told him that to make love to her would be different from any other woman. It was not just the fact that she was his wife. It was the way he wanted her, not only with fiery blood in his veins but with something much deeper, unknown and new.

      But what if the temper he’d inherited from his father surfaced as it had threatened to do on their wedding night when he’d thought of those rumours? What if behind closed doors he became the abusive bully his mother had had to put up with? He hated the fact that he looked like his father and he just couldn’t take the risk that he could also be like him in other ways.

      Amber turned and looked at him and, despite being only a few strides from him, the distance seemed as endless as the dunes of a desert. ‘I felt like a princess.’ Her voice was hardly above a whisper, but her bronze eyes watched him anxiously and a vice-like grip clutched at his chest as vulnerability showed through her armour.

      He moved closer, watching her. She stood and looked at him and he took a deep breath, forcing cooling control into his body. He wanted to reach for her, to kiss her lips, her face, her body. He wanted to claim her as his own and it was that very fact that held him back.

      He’d already been far too hard on her. He had no right to claim even a kiss.

      ‘You are a princess,’ he stated emphatically, focusing his thoughts on other things. Just saying those words made him want to find out what had happened since she’d left the palace. ‘Why did you take a job in that Parisian club, Amber?’

      The colour drained from her face in seconds but she remained strong and resolute before him, indignation sparking off her like fireworks. She watched him suspiciously as he moved towards her.

      ‘I told you, Kazim—nobody knew who I really was, not even Annie.’ Her voice, though just above a whisper, was strong.

      Did she really think that such assurances were enough? He needed to know more and intended to get answers. He wasn’t going to be put off. He had to know. He’d been more than generous. Something wasn’t right. Why had she felt the need to work in such a place and live in the terrible excuse for a flat he’d seen?

      ‘But why there?’ He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, wondering again about that rumour from her time at the English boarding school. Her display on their wedding night had already proved that attending it had corrupted her far more than anyone else knew.

      ‘When you’re not prepared to use your own identity, it’s difficult to get a job, Kazim. I took whatever I could and am grateful to the women in the hostel for telling me about the job.’ She raised her brows in challenge, standing tall and resolute before him as she waited for her words to sink in.

      Then, with a haughty flash of her smile, she walked away from him. He watched the sexy swaying of her hips as she made her way to the bedroom, mesmerised and knocked completely off course. It was almost as if she was taunting him with her body—again. Just as she had on their wedding night, drawing his focus away from what was important with the lure of her body.

      One word leapt to life in his mind. Hostel. Shock mingled with hot need, making any kind of reply impossible. What did she mean—hostel? He shook his head, trying to free himself of the thumping desire that rushed through him just from watching her—desire that was distracting his usual rational thoughts.

      ‘What hostel, Amber?’ Quickly he refocused his attention, not prepared to let the moment slip by. She was hiding things from him, tormenting him, and he didn’t like it one bit. ‘I think you’d better tell me exactly what you’ve done since you left Barazbin—and with whom.’ The doubts he’d had about her on their wedding night surfaced again.

      She sighed, but her rigid body told him she was resigned to having this discussion. ‘For a while I lived in a hostel in Paris. I didn’t have help from anyone and I had nowhere to live so, princess or not, it’s what I had to do.’ She’d walked back from the bedroom to stand in front of him once more, apparently abandoning the idea of closing the door on him. ‘Some of the girls there told me I’d easily get work at the club. I had no idea what sort of place it was.’

      ‘But you still took the job.’ He stated the obvious as he looked down into her face.

      ‘I needed the money. Besides, I met Annie there, who offered me a place to live.’ Her brown eyes looked beseechingly into his and he swallowed down hard on the guilt that threatened to drown him.

      ‘So, Annie offered you a place to live?’ He probed further, needing to know all of it. He couldn’t afford to read her story one morning, splashed all over the front of a newspaper. Not now they were about to return to Barazbin.

      ‘She was struggling, looking after Claude and working, we got on well, so it made sense. Neither of us had anyone; her parents had gone back to England, refusing to have any more to do with her.’ She looked up at him innocently, her explanation as plausible as the sunrise in the morning.

      Guilt tore through him. He’d done this to her. If he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his problems he’d have realised sending her away wouldn’t help either of them. He’d been so damned determined not to be like his father. He raked his fingers through his hair, knowing he’d been worse—much worse—than that bully.

      He took Amber’s hand in his and looked down at her. ‘I should never have sent you away. I had a duty to you as a husband and I failed.’

      ‘And now you are forcing me to go back, blackmailing me, using an innocent child.’ Accusation hung in her every word.

      ‘Not blackmailing, Amber, striking a deal. One which will see us

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