Page 59 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

‘Yes, it’s as if I’ve been given a toy box to entertain me...’ Her words faded. Violet knew her acrimony was misplaced. But the gesture was a painful reminder of her past.

He peered into the trunk. ‘It looks like my mother’s old school books.’

She said nothing.

‘I won’t disturb you again,’ he told her. ‘You have your privacy, I promise. I won’t come in.’ He was very direct. ‘I can assure you nothing will happen here.’

‘Oh...’ Her voice was dark with warning. ‘It had better not.’

‘Violet, I am appalled at what has occurred. Tomorrow, if you’re willing,I want to hear about it, so I can deal appropriately with my staff,’ he said. ‘I am not putting you on a helicopter with anyone who has mistreated you.’

Violet swallowed. She hadn’t really been mistreated; the only thing that had been wounded was her heart.

‘If you need me—’

‘I won’t need you.’

‘You might hear—’

‘I’m not scared of things that go bump in the night.’

She looked at him then—really looked. At his liquorice eyes, at his gorgeous tall frame, at the man she should perhaps hate, but didn’t. Certainly hating him would be the safer alternative.

‘I don’t need anyone, Sahir,’ Violet said, and picked up one of the books. ‘I worked that out a long time ago.’

‘I shall make that call and then come back. If you have any questions—’

‘I won’t.’

The bells signalled his leaving.

She was too weary to think about the day’s events, and yet too wired to sleep.

She was also bored with her hunger strike—especially when such treats had been placed by her side.

Thegazwas lovely, and the hot chocolate delicious—especially because he’d made it. It was sweet, but with a bitter edge, and so creamy that even after she’d finished it, even after she’d turned off the lamp, she could taste the sweet remnants on her lips as she lay there waiting for sleep.

She should be exhausted, surely?

But there was that prickly feeling that came from being alone in a new place, and it was a feeling that was all too familiar.

She made a quick dash for the loo, and attempted an even quicker dash back, because this tent was by far too big to be alone in, but on her way back she saw his softly lit room.

Poor Pria...

How Violet had shouted when she’d first seen it, and demanded a space of her own.

She stood at the entrance, feeling less terrified now he’d arrived.

Softly lit lamps illuminated the very masculine, sensual space. There the rugs weren’t patterned, but thick and soft. Some looked like fur.

There was a lit fire with a huge dome above it—like a huge candle snuffer, should the heat get too much. And well it might, for she could feel the warmth even from where she stood.

Everything deserved to be explored, but her eyes were drawn to the vast bed. To call it a four-poster would be an injustice. There was an intricate patterned headboard that stretched right up to the dark wood ceiling—it really was like a room within a room. The heavy drapes were neatly tied back, and she wondered what it would be like to lie in that bed with them closed. They were of the same dark jade velvet of the cushion she’d sat on, and given how long she’d waited on it, Violet knew how soft they would feel.

Still, she walked over and ran her hand over one, then stroked the bedcover. The fabric was cool to the touch, while her body felt warm from the fire.

How could she still want him?

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