There wouldn’t be a moment of callous rejection between them, though. Not like this. She and Kasim were never going to spend two years together the way Henri had with Cinnia.
Upset for Henri and Cinnia—and disturbed on her own behalf—she pushed the jewelry into the envelope, but the artist in her was drawn to examine the tennis bracelet. She’d never taken a proper look at it. It was a string of alternating pink and white diamonds, one Cinnia had always seemed to be wearing. Angelique was really shocked she’d given it up, especially now that she saw how exquisite it really was. The craftsmanship in the setting was extraordinary. She searched it for an insignia that might tell her where it had come from.
When the door opened behind her, she stood with surprise, expecting Maurice, but it was Kasim. She had told Maurice to expect him, but had thought she’d have to ring him through the main doors downstairs before he would appear up here.
“How did you get in the building?” she asked as she moved to meet him, flushing uncontrollably with instant pleasure.
His mouth tilted with a hint of smugness, as if he read her infatuation and knew how slowly the minutes had passed for her before seeing him again. It was disconcerting, making her feel defenseless and obvious, but she still found herself crossing toward him, tugged by an invisible lasso around her middle.
He waited for the door to shut before he hooked his arm around her and kissed her.
It was proprietary and given how fleeting this affair was likely to be, she should be keeping better control over herself, but her heart soared. She quickly melted into him, instantly transported to the languorous memories of last night and anticipation for more of the same incredible pleasure he’d delivered.
“You missed me,” he said when he drew back.
“You didn’t miss me?” She tried to sound blasé, tried to pull away, but she was hyperaware of how needy that sounded. How completely easy she was being.
His hand slid to her tailbone and pressed her hips into his enough that she felt how he was reacting to her. “I’ve been thinking about you,” he allowed.
Fluttery joy invaded her abdomen and she tried not to reveal how quickly and thoroughly he’d bowled her over.
“Good to know,” she said lightly. “But I am genuinely curious how you got into the building. It’s supposed to be locked down for residents only.”
“It is. I was given the codes when I bought my flat this morning. Shall we go look at it?” He finally released her and stepped toward the door with a low wave for her to accompany him.
“You—you bought a unit in this building this morning?” She had grown up with wealth, but they only owned a flat here because her father had bought it during the design stage, just before his death. The address was obscenely exclusive with a wait list a mile long of international dignitaries and techno-billionaires trying to get in.
Perhaps she had underestimated how wealthy and powerful Kasim was. The cost to jump queue must have been exorbitant.
“It’s a good investment. My mother likes London,” he said with a shrug. “She’ll use it if I don’t. Mostly I thought you’d appreciate the privacy. By some miracle, there is nothing online about us. I thought we’d celebrate our lack of infamy by staying in and extending our lucky streak. I’ve ordered dinner to be delivered in a couple of hours.”
“We could have stayed here!” she pointed out.
He offered a pained frown. “I do not steal into a girl’s bedroom at her parents’ home.”
No, he dropped a few million pounds on a suite he was only using for one night. For her.
She urged herself not to let that mean too much.
“Shall I change?” She was still wearing her travel clothes, a dark blue jersey skirt with a pale yellow top, both her own design. They were quietly feminine, breezy yet classic and a tiny bit waifish.
“You look beautiful.” He skimmed his gaze down and back. “And whatever you wear is only for the elevator.”
“You’re not even going to pretend you’re inviting me to look at etchings?” She planted her hands on her hips, only realizing as she did that she was still holding Cinnia’s bracelet. Shoot. She was instantly self-conscious on her brother’s behalf. “Um. I just have to put this down and grab my phone.”
“What is it?” Kasim asked, catching at her wrist as the snaking sparkle caught his attention.
She opened her hand. “Something Henri bought for Cinnia,” she prevaricated.
Her brother’s long-term relationship was well documented in the press, but she wasn’t going to be the one to start the rumors about its demise.
“I want to ask him where he got it because the work is outstanding. Look at the detail here. You can tell each of these claws has been crimped individually to create this effect all the way along. I’m in awe at how painstaking that would be. Have you ever seen anything like it?”
Kasim’s nostrils flared as he picked up the bracelet and gave it a thorough study, his expression pulling into a tension that bordered on agony. As if suddenly realizing how hard he was staring, and that she was watching him, he quickly straightened his features and handed her the bracelet.
“No,” he answered belatedly and rather abruptly. “Let’s go.”
Her heart did a little thump. The mood had definitely shifted. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She was hurt that he would lie so blatantly to her, but moved across to tuck the bracelet into the envelope and picked up her phone.
The silence in the elevator was not precisely thick, but it was significant.
Kasim’s cheeks were hollow, his mouth flat.
Maurice was with them, so Angelique kept her own counsel. Her guard went through Kasim’s new flat ahead of them, even though Kasim’s team had been here all day, ensuring it was not only clean and secure, but furnished and well stocked.
The layout was similar to her family’s suite with a lounge opening onto a balcony overlooking the Thames. She imagined the door next to the wet bar led to the kitchen, as it did in their own. Down the hall would be the bedrooms and baths.
This one smelled faintly of paint and was filled with contemporary furniture and a handful of decent art pieces. His decorator was competent, if unimaginative, having fallen back on the latest issue of Colors of the Year for lack of inspiration.
The moment Maurice left them alone, Kasim drew her into his arms again and kissed her quite passionately. Almost aggressively, questing for a response. It was as if he was trying to propel them into the mindless state they’d experienced last night in Paris.
It was breathlessly exciting, yet made her feel… She wasn’t sure and, as her blood began to heat, started not to care.
“Do I not even get a chance to explore the place myself?” she gasped when his mouth traveled to the side of her neck. Arousal suffused her, but she had the sense she was being used as much as desired. It scraped her insides raw.
“If you like,” he said, straightening and not looking pleased.
“Have you even seen it?” she asked, trying to recover and stung by the distance she sensed between them.
“I’m more interested in this.” His lashes cut downward as he slid his gaze to her toes and came back to her lips.
His ravenous gaze made her skin tighten, but her heart squeezed at the same time. She knew he was sublimating something.
“Kasim.” She