Page 60 of Warming the Sheikh's Bed & Love in the Fast Lane

He waited until the lift had swallowed her into its shiny mouth and then slammed his palm against the dining table. He swore loudly and slumped in his chair.

He had dug himself into a royal mess and all the exits were locked to him but one.

His mood was darker than a winter’s midnight as he dressed into one of his ceremonial robes. Black with gold detailing on the sleeves, it was similar to the one he’d worn at the embassy with Cassie. His frame of mind didn’t improve as he rode the same elevator Cassie had taken a little over an hour earlier. He could still smell her sweet fragrance – her shampoo, perfume and her. Something indefinable and lovely.

The door opened onto the identical apartment beneath his, and in the middle stood Arja. Beautiful, regal and poised, she smiled up at him.

He moved towards her, and tried not to think of Cassie. She was an illusion. A sylph in the desert; a magical breath he could never catch.

Arja was real.

Arja was the bride his family and people expected him to choose.

He smiled back at her, and tried to let his image of Cassie go.

* * *

Was he with her still?

Arja.

Even her name was exotically beautiful. The way he said it: Arja, with a soft ‘sh’ sound. It was a caress.

Was he caressing her? Kissing her? Seeing if they were compatible before he named her as his fiancé?

Her legs kicked on, faster and faster, eating up the paths. She skirted the western edge of the park, and then headed down Oxford Street. It was busy now, on a weekend, in contrast to that late night she’d left Wine Underground with Colin. She ducked into the first café she came across – a Starbucks – and joined the back of the queue. It moved slowly, and as she reached the front, she tilted her head towards the glass windows.

They were there. Agent One and Agent Two, a reminder that Layth cared for her. For now, the devilishly truthful voice in the back of her head snapped waspishly. Soon he would return to his life in Takisabad, and whatever he thought they shared would fade into the recesses of his mind. He would be busy, both with his royal duties and his new marriage.

Bitterness rolled over her.

To marry a man like Layth; what would that be like? Cassie felt an unwelcome future protrude into her mind. A life spent with him, laughing, talking, making love. A life shared in every way.

But it wasn’t to be her future.

Despondent now, she stepped out of the queue and shook her head in frustration.

Why was she thinking along these lines? Both she and Layth knew what they should expect when they got involved. Nothing had changed.

She pushed out of the café empty handed, her eyes briefly encompassing the two agents. “I’m going to catch a taxi back.”

Agent One lifted a hand instantly, hailing a black cab with the power of someone who operated in such a capacity as he. It retraced their steps back into Knightsbridge, the driver picking a scenic route rather than the more direct. Cassie didn’t think to admonish him for padding the fare.

She might have lived in England for a decade, and London for seven of those years, but she’d never get sick of the view.

At the bottom of the prestigious hotel, she pulled a note of out of her pocket but the guard waved her hand away and flashed a black credit card. Cassie shrugged.

What was the point in arguing? The wardrobe Layth had accumulated for her was probably worth tens of thousands of pounds. The ring was undoubtedly several times that. And she couldn’t even think of the necklace without blushing. What was a cab fare in the face of such outlandish generosity?

The foyer was busier than usual. A small group of well-dressed women sat on the sofas, and Layth’s security agents were visible everywhere.

The lift doors opened as she approached and she moved aside automatically.

A radiantly beautiful woman stepped out. She was wearing an ornate cream dress. Bridal. Her dark hair was wound around her head. Crown. And her eyes were glowing with satisfaction. Success.

Arja, for surely it was his prospective bride, looked straight at Cassie, then beyond her to the security guards. Cassie supposed the security guards marked her as someone who was special to the Emir. Arja’s look was laced with scorn, as she instantly, correctly, summed up the situation. Her eyes dropped to Cassie’s generous breasts then she smiled dismissively and walked away.

Cassie felt the bottom fall out of her world.

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