‘An hour! That’s no time!’
‘Your bags have been packed, and Sam is content with your mother. There is no reason to delay.’
Lucy accepted a cup of coffee and took a fortifying sip. ‘Where are we going?’
Khaled’s eyes glinted with humour. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’
She didn’t like surprises, Lucy reflected as they boarded the royal jet amidst another storm of paparazzi. She liked to be prepared, in control, even over little things.
Yet she knew Khaled was planning a nice surprise for her, and the gesture touched her. Even if she didn’t like it.
It was the fear again, she knew. The agony of doubt, the pain of uncertainty. She’d trusted Khaled once—he was the only man she’d ever trusted. No one else had claimed her heart the way he had. She wasn’t about it to give it to him again, yet, even so, she still felt nervous. Afraid.
Would the fear ever be banished? Could she ever trust Khaled, trust herself?
Glancing over at him, his head bent, lost in thought, she couldn’t answer that question. Last night had been good. No, she admitted honestly, it had been wonderful. But a few moments in bed didn’t change who they were, what they were capable of, how much they could give.
Did it?
How long until he leaves? Until he’s tired of you?
The jet took off into the sky, leaving the island of Biryal far behind until there was nothing in every direction but glittering blue, endless ocean. And no answers.
It was late afternoon when the jet arrived at Dubai International Airport.
‘Dubai?’ Lucy questioned, for she’d never been there and didn’t even know much about it.
‘Wait and see,’ Khaled assured her. ‘You will be treated like a queen.’
A throng of paparazzi greeted them, and Khaled navigated easily through the crowd, his hand clasped with Lucy’s, ignoring most questions and fielding a few necessary ones.
‘We are very happy. And, since this is our honeymoon, we’d like to be alone!’ He spoke good-naturedly, and the journalists responded, allowing him an easy passage to the waiting Rolls Royce.
Lucy slipped into the luxurious leather seat and within minutes the car was pulling smoothly away. They left the airport and desert for the glittering lights of Dubai, a mass of needle-like skyscrapers straight down to the sea.
‘Where are we staying?’ Lucy asked.
‘The best,’ Khaled said simply. ‘The Burj Al Arab.’
Lucy had never heard of it, but then there was no reason why she would have. This was Khaled’s world, the sports star and the reigning prince who was used to luxurious hotels and servants leaping to do his bidding.
She’d let herself forget that the sunlit days in Biryal when it had just been her, Khaled and Sam, swimming and spending time among Biryal’s far simpler pleasures.
Now the memories of Khaled as he was in London—fun loving, pleasure seeking, untrustworthy—came back full force as the Rolls swept up to the front of a huge skyscraper shaped like a billowing sail on its own artificial island right on the water.
Liveried attendants opened the car door and escorted them through the sumptuous atrium that soared a dizzying six hundred feet upwards, making Lucy feel faint and small. There was no need for Khaled to check in; everyone knew who he was. An attendant led them to a private elevator which went straight to the top of the towering building, and doors opened onto the most oppressively opulent suite Lucy had ever seen.
A gold and marble staircase, more impressive even than the one in the Biryali palace, led up to the suite itself. Lucy followed Khaled and the attendant, her footsteps clicking faintly on the carrara marble.
Upstairs the suite seemed to be an endless succession of rooms filled with gold leaf and marble, thick, tufted rugs and heavy mahogany furniture. Lucy glanced around, but she could see no end in sight; room after room stretched on, filled with furniture and paintings, every sign of wealth and luxury.
The attendant left, and Khaled turned to Lucy with a smile that looked just a little smug. ‘Well?’
‘It’s amazing,’ she said faintly.
His smile deepened. ‘You’re overwhelmed.’
‘How could I not be?’
‘Watch this.’ They were in the bedroom, which was decorated in royal-blue and gold, with a magnificent, canopied four-poster bed. Khaled pushed a button and Lucy watched the bed rotate slowly on its dais.
‘Wow,’ she said lamely. Khaled turned to her.
‘Is something wrong?’
Lucy shrugged and spread her hands out. How could she explain how this suite reminded her of their time in London? Of how overawed she’d been by Khaled, by his wealth and poise, his careless charm, his reckless ease? She’d never felt like his equal, and yet somehow in the last few weeks Sam had neutralised that feeling. With Sam, they were on an equal footing. But not here.
Here, in Khaled’s world, she felt like a hanger-on, a beggar at the table waiting for the scraps of his attention.
His love.
She still wanted him to love her, Lucy realised with a jolt of panic. That was why she was so nervous, so afraid. She wanted, needed, Khaled’s love, and she’d never have it.
‘Lucy?’ Khaled prompted with a frown, and she tried to smile, although her mind still spun.
‘It’s just so…much.’
‘Is that a bad thing?’
‘No, of course not.’ This was her problem, Lucy knew. Her insecurity, her fear. She glanced around the room, taking in all the luxurious embellishments. ‘It’s wonderful, Khaled. Thank you.’
That evening Lucy dressed in one of the designer gowns that had been packed for her; she hadn’t seen any of the clothes before, but they were all the right size. They took a simulated submarine ride to the hotel’s underwater restaurant, Al Mahara.
They sat at a table right next to an enormous aquarium, watching fish swim lazily by; they dined on lobster salad and oysters washed down by a champagne that Lucy didn’t want to know the price of.
A few people recognised Khaled, a mix of businessmen and society starlets, and Lucy watched as Khaled kissed their cheeks and chatted easily, smiling and laughing and talking about things Lucy could barely understand. This was his world. It always had been.
How could she have forgotten? Four years ago she’d been so dazzled, so grateful to be seen on his arm, but she was older now. She was wiser, too, and she didn’t want to live like that.
Feel like that.
After what felt like an endless meal they returned to their suite. The bed had been turned down, the lights dimmed and a tray of fruit and Arabic sweets left by the terrace.
‘Is something wrong?’ Khaled asked, and Lucy heard a coolness in his voice.
She hesitated, not wanting a confrontation, not knowing how to explain how she felt. And what did it matter? There was no way to make it better.
‘I’m just tired,’ she said at last. ‘It’s been a crazy few weeks.’
‘So it has.’ Khaled came behind her, his hands resting heavily on her shoulders. ‘But we can leave that all behind, Lucy, and relax for a few days. Enjoy being pampered, enjoy each other.’ He dropped a kiss on the nape of her neck, making her shiver. His lips moved along her shoulder, his tongue touching her skin, and desire overcame doubt as she turned in his arms and gave herself to him.
At least here and now they