Page 11 of Unknown Royal Baby

She didn’t relish the thought. But she’d see this through. Now she had a chance to confront Isam.

Her emotions were a chaotic jumble and her stomach churned with something close to nausea. Avril had never believed today would come. After a year of complete silence, he wanted to see her.

She’d almost,almostrefused to attend.

She’d stomped around the house, muttering under her breath about self-centred men and their unconscionable behaviour. The message, not from Isam himself, but from an officious staffer she didn’t know, had caught her by surprise. To her horror, she’d found herself blinking back furious tears, bombarded by relief, anger and disbelief.

Not excitement. She’d given up on that ages ago.

How could she be excited to see him again? She’d almost convinced herself that the thrill she’d felt that night with him was her mind exaggerating. He’d been her first lover and, for a while at least, she’d turned him into someone special, more admirable than the flawed, arrogant bastard he’d proved to be.

Her breath caught on a bubble of bitter laughter that felt scarily hysterical. No, he wasn’t a bastard. Not as far as the world was concerned. Not long after leaving London, on his father’s death, he’d moved from being the legitimate royal heir to being proclaimed King of Zahdar.

But handsome is as handsome does, as Cilla used to say.

He’d treated Avril appallingly. She’d never be able to respect him after what he’d done.

‘Are you all right, Ms Rodgers?’

Her gaze snapped up to the man she was sure now was a minder. Did Isam fear she might physically attack him? Unlikely, since she’d be no match for him. More likely royal security was more obvious now he was Sheikh.

‘Oh, I’m just dandy. Thank you.’

She watched her companion blink and realised her smile held a feral edge. Drawing a slow breath, she forced herself to be calm or at least to look it.

The lift bell pinged and the doors slid open to reveal the elegant opulence of the presidential suite’s foyer.

In the almost thirteen months sincethatnight, Avril had never ventured back here. Isam hadn’t returned but stayed in Zahdar since commencing his reign.

Because of her?

Unlikely. It was clear the man she’d thought she knew didn’t exist. She’d fallen for a mirage. She’d invested Isam with a character that matched his outwardly attractive appearance. Now she had the real measure of the man. Not admirable. Not attractive. Not worth pining over.

Avril smoothed her hand down the russet fabric of her straight skirt. It wasn’t new, she wasn’t going to waste her money on a new outfit for this meeting. But it was a favourite, even if the fit wasn’t quite as it used to be, and it made her feel good.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured as the minder led her into the suite then opened the door to the conference room.

She stepped over the threshold and heard the door snick closed behind her. On the other side of the table sat three men in suits. She only had eyes for the tall one in the centre.

Her heart took up a rackety beat, pounding her ribs as she met clear, pale eyes. Something like an electric charge jolted through her. Despite being prepared for this meeting, moisture tickled her hairline and bloomed across her palms, making her tighten her grip on her laptop case.

He stared straight back at her and her peripheral vision dimmed as her focus narrowed to eyes the colour of a grey winter’s morning. Eyes that scrutinised but gave nothing away. Eyes that didn’t flicker with even the tiniest hint of pleasure or welcome.

Avrilthoughtshe’d been prepared, thought Isam couldn’t hurt her any more, but that unresponsive stare pierced the armour she’d spent so long constructing.

She put her palm to the centre of her chest, trying to hold in sharp stabbing pain.

‘Ms Rodgers? Ms Rodgers.’ She turned stiff neck muscles to find a man beside her. He was in his forties, with a round face that looked more suited to smiling than the frown he wore now. He wore a bespoke suit and concern in his eyes. ‘Please, won’t you take a seat?’

Looking from him to the empty seat beside the Sheikh, she realised he’d come around the long table to her. How long had she stood there, aware of nothing but Isam?

‘Thank you.’

She sat as he introduced himself and the man still seated next to Isam. But she didn’t retain their names, too frantically focusing on trying not to show how badly shocked she felt.

‘And you know Sheikh Isam,’ he added.

Belatedly she realised she hadn’t remembered the obligatory curtsey for Zahdar’s head of state. Not that the man deserved a curtsey.

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