She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. But she knew from his faint smile how he saw the change in her face, the one she couldn’t disguise. The one that meant acquiescence, whether it was wise or not.
He saw her face change and knew he didn’t have to say anything more.
‘The Europa,’ he said, the total confidence in his tone that of a man who knew he had won and there was nothing more to say. ‘The Europa at eight. I’ll be waiting.’
His mouth took hers for a hot, brief moment and then was gone.
Abbie didn’t know if she moved herself or if Malik pushed her, but either way it was only just in time. Somehow she was on the other side of the door, and with it firmly closed behind her. And in the library she heard the other door open and her father’s voice apologising for being so long.
‘Not at all…’
This time, Malik’s accented voice came clearly through the heavy wood that separated them. Cool and clear and totally unperturbed as if nothing had happened and he had simply been standing there, waiting for his host’s return.
‘I had plenty to think about. Plenty to occupy me while I waited. I never noticed the time at all.’
It was already turning dusk outside. Under cover of the gathering darkness, Abbie swiftly tidied herself up, adjusted her appearance. The wretched apron was ruined, torn beyond repair, so she pulled it off, crumpling it into a bundle and stuffing it out of sight behind a couple of plant pots. She would come back and retrieve it later tonight, when no one was likely to see her.
Later tonight. Tonight. The word hit home to her as she hurried along the shadowy path, heading for the kitchen door.
Tonight. Come to me tonight…and we can finish what we started.
He had been so sure, so confident that she would not refuse him. He would be waiting for her at eight, just as he had said.
Would she be there?
Even as the question entered her head, Abbie knew that the answer would push it straight out again, giving her no time to think. Not that she needed any.
Of course she would be there. She had no other choice. No alternative.
It was dangerous. It was crazy. It was probably the most stupid thing she would ever do—but how could she ever live with herself if she didn’t do it? How could she leave this stunning man, this devastating meeting, only half known, his lovemaking only half completed? The ache in her body, an ache that felt like a bruise right into her soul, told her that she couldn’t. She just couldn’t leave things like this.
The Europa at eight…
Malik’s confident voice rang inside her head.
He was so sure that she would be there.
Her footsteps slowed, coming to a halt in the darkness, and her fingers crept up to her mouth, pressing against her lips, thinking back, remembering how it had felt to have Malik’s kiss on her mouth. His caresses on her yearning body.
The Europa at eight…
And she would be there. Of course she would be there. How could she ever live with herself if she wasn’t?
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