скачать книгу бесплатно
So Nadir had chosen the highway and his father had disowned him. It was one of his old man’s specialities—turning his back on anyone who displeased him—and Nadir had said sayonara and left to make his own way in the world. And it had been a relief because it helped him forget the role he’d inadvertently played in his mother and sister’s deaths. It was also the last time he’d let his father manipulate him. Nadir had no doubt that not changing his will to reflect Zachim as the next leader had been a deliberate move on his father’s part. But he wouldn’t win.
Memories surged and Nadir cursed and rocked to his feet. He stared out of the window as a stream of sunlight broke through the clouds, casting a golden hue on the Houses of Parliament. The colour reminded him of Imogen Reid’s long silky hair and his mood headed further south as he thought of her once more. She was another loose end he had yet to tie up, but at least with that one he had tried.
Frustrated with the way the day was turning out, Nadir thumbed through the messages his PA had sent to his palm pilot, his eyes snagging on one from his head of security.
A sixth sense—or more a sick sense—told him his day was not about to take an upward swing just yet.
‘Bjorn.’
‘Boss-man.’ His head of security spoke in a soft Bostonian drawl. ‘You know that woman you asked me to track down fourteen months ago?’
Damn, he’d been right and every muscle in his body tensed. ‘Yes.’
‘I’m pretty sure we found her. I’ve just sent through an image to your handheld for you to check.’
Gut churning, Nadir pulled the phone from his ear and watched as the face of the beautiful Australian dancer who had haunted his thoughts for fourteen long months materialised on the screen. Fifteen months ago he’d met her at the Moulin Rouge after he and Zach had found themselves in Paris at the same time.
His brother had claimed he could do with seeing something pretty so they’d headed to the famous dance hall as a lark. Nadir had taken one look at the statuesque dancer with hair the colour of wheat and eyes the colour of a freshly mown lawn on a summer day and four hours later he’d had her up against the wall in his Parisian apartment with her incredible legs tightly wrapped around his lean hips. Then he’d had her on his dining room table, under his shower, and eventually in his bed. Their affair had been as hot as the Bakaani sun in August. Passionate. Intense. All-consuming.
He’d never felt such a strong pull to a woman before and even though his brain had warned him to back away he’d still made four consecutive unscheduled weekend trips to Paris just to be with her. Right then he should have known that she was trouble. That their affair was unlikely to end well. Little had he known it would end with him finding out she was pregnant and her claiming the child was his. Little did he know that she would then disappear before he’d have a chance to do anything about it.
Likely she’d disappeared because she hadn’t been carrying his baby at all but still, the thought that he had fathered a child somewhere out in the world and didn’t know about it ate away at him. A flush of heat stole over him. He didn’t know what her game had been back then but there was no question that she had played him. He just wanted to know how much—and why. ‘That’s her. Where is she?’ he bit out harshly.
‘Turns out she’s in London. Been here the whole time.’
‘Any sign of a child?’
‘None. Should I ask? I’m sitting inside the café she works at now.’
‘No.’ A welcome shot of rage pumped through Nadir’s bloodstream, priming his muscles. It looked as if today was the day he was being given a chance to rid himself of all the irritating issues in his life and now that he thought about it that could only be a positive thing. A faint smile twisted his lips. ‘That pleasure will be mine. Text me your location.’
* * *
‘That guy looking at you is giving me the creeps.’
Tired from lack of sleep due to her teething five-month-old daughter, Imogen stifled a yawn and didn’t bother turning towards the back of the room even though she knew who Jenny was referring to. He was giving her the creeps as well and not just because of his hard looks. She recognised him from somewhere but couldn’t think where.
She folded a paper napkin at her station at the bar and darted another quick glance outside the café window to see if her housemate Minh had turned up. Her shift had already ended but she’d stayed back to help tidy up until he arrived.
Jenny elbowed her. ‘I think he wants to ask you out.’
‘It’s the blonde hair. He probably thinks I’m easy.’ Fifteen months ago she’d had an equally imposing male think the same thing of her but he’d been wearing a three-thousand-dollar suit and had completely charmed her. He’d also been a billionaire playboy with the attention span of a single-celled amoeba. She wasn’t so gullible when it came to men now. And, anyway, this guy looked as if he belonged to the secret service or something. Which only made her feel more uneasy. The little retro café where she waitressed didn’t usually attract the kind of clientele who required personal security, and she knew that the playboy in the three-thousand-dollar suit used to have his own detail. Was that where she had seen this guy before? With Nadir? It seemed impossible but, before she could dart another quick glance his way, Jenny nudged her.
‘No need to worry now. I think I spot your boyfriend outside.’
Heat shot through Imogen’s face and her head came up as for a split second she thought Jenny was referring to the playboy she’d never be able to forget, no matter how much she tried.
When she caught sight of Minh waving to her through the café window a whoosh of air left her lungs in relief. Boy, but she was jittery all of a sudden.
‘I’ve never seen him before,’ Jenny continued. ‘And he looks so gorgeous carrying your little girl in that sling.’ She sighed. ‘I wish I could meet a man who was a looker and also a caring dad.’
Heart still pumping, Imogen waved to her friend and infant daughter. She guessed Minh was a looker with his exotic Eurasian tanned features and he was certainly one of the nicest men she had ever met in her life but she’d never seen him as anything other than a friend. And not just because he was gay but because Prince Nadir Zaman Al-Darkhan had not only left her with a baby to take care of but he’d also left her with a phobia about falling in love.
Well, maybe not a phobia, exactly. More a deep resolve to never let a man take advantage of her again. Her own father had taken advantage of her mother’s inherent goodness and it had devastated Imogen to watch her mother make excuse after excuse as to why her father hardly ever spent any time with them.
‘Your father works so hard, baby girl—he just needs time to relax, that’s all.’
Relaxing with another woman and eventually leaving his wife for her? Imogen would never let that happen to her. If she ever attempted another relationship in the future she’d do so with eyes wide open and it would be on her terms and her terms only. A picture of Nadir’s handsome face materialised in her mind and she pushed it away.
‘Unfortunately, he’s not my boyfriend.’ Or her baby’s father.
She threw Jenny a smile and wished her a fab Friday night out on the town before heading towards the back of the bar to grab her handbag and head out to meet her makeshift family.
Minh had been a godsend in more ways than one this past year. When she’d discovered she was pregnant her roommate, Minh’s sister, had told her that her big brother was heading to America for six months and was looking for someone to housesit. With the lease coming up on their flat in Paris anyway, it had seemed like an opportunity straight out of the heavens and she’d jumped at the opportunity to look after his swanky Knightsbridge pad. But then she probably would have gone to Siberia if it meant getting out of Paris at that time.
With no close family to fall back on in Australia, she’d anticipated having time in London to lie low and sort herself out before the baby arrived. Unfortunately she hadn’t reckoned on being so sick she could barely move from Minh’s sofa the whole time. When Minh had returned home he’d taken her under his wing and told her she could stay for as long as she needed. He’d even visited her in the hospital right after her precious daughter had come into the world, while no doubt her baby’s father had been wining and dining some supermodel on a tropical island or some such.
Imogen grimaced. She’d known about Nadir’s reputation as a handsome rebel bad boy from the start and as far as she was concerned you could add irresponsible bastard to that list of seedy qualities as well. And maybe add stupidity to her own because at the time she’d imagined she had fallen in love with him. Fool.
To say she owed Minh a lot was an understatement. She especially owed him a chance to have his boyfriend move in with him without her and Nadeena cramping their style and she gratefully accepted the tips the barman passed to her on her way out. In another week or two she should have enough to look for her own place but she knew Minh wouldn’t push. He had a heart as big as a mountain.
‘Hey, gorgeous,’ he said, kissing her cheek. ‘How was work?’
‘Fine.’ She grabbed her smiling daughter out of his arms and planted kisses all over her upturned face. Nadeena stared up at her with Nadir’s striking blue-grey eyes and ebony lashes. His smooth olive complexion. ‘What have you two been up to?’
‘I took her to the park and the outdoor café. I hope she’s not smelly,’ Minh said as he untied the baby sling. ‘It’s like holding a hot brick against you in this weather. And they complain London summers are tepid.’
Imogen laughed. ‘One twenty-eight-degree day and you English are ready to call it quits. The trouble is that you don’t know how to handle the heat.’
Minh gave her a droll look. ‘The trouble is we don’t want to handle it.’
Grinning, Imogen took the sling and slid it over her shoulders and settled Nadeena against her, all her earlier feelings of unease completely gone. She linked her arm through Minh’s. ‘You know how much I appreciate your help, right? I mean I can’t thank you enough for babysitting today. Yesterday.’ She made a face. ‘Last week.’
‘She’s a darling child and the dodgy film I’m editing is still in the can. Until they call me back I’m a free man.’
‘Don’t let David hear you say you’re a free man,’ she teased.
About to give her some spunky reply, Minh’s jaw fell open and nearly hit the pavement. ‘Hold that thought,’ he breathed in a stage whisper. ‘The archangel of heaven has just landed and he’s wearing Armani and a terrific scowl.’
Laughing at the theatrics he picked up from working with film stars, Imogen turned and her jaw not only hit the pavement, it continued all the way to Australia.
The ruthless, heartless bastard who had left her pregnant and alone in Paris was heading towards her, his long, loose-limbed strides eating up the pavement and scattering startled pedestrians like a shark mowing down a school of tuna.
Imogen’s arms instinctively came up to wrap around a sleepy Nadeena, her mind completely blank.
Nadir stopped directly in front of her. ‘Hello, Imogen.’ As tall as she was, she still had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes that were currently shielded by aviator sunglasses reflecting her own stunned expression back at her. ‘Remember me?’
Imogen was in such a state of shock at seeing him after only just thinking about him so vividly all her addled brain could come up with was how impossibly good-looking he was in his black suit. How tousled his midnight hair looked—no doubt from where he had run his fingers through it a hundred times already. Her own immediately itched to do the same thing and she curled them into the soft fabric of Nadeena’s sling, disconcerted by the immediate and compelling effect he still had on her.
‘I...of course.’
She swallowed heavily as his eyes dropped to Nadeena. The glint from his sunglasses made him look like a steely-eyed predator eyeing succulent prey. ‘You had the baby.’
Something in the way he said that in his deep, smooth baritone that defied geographical distinction made the hairs stand up on the back of Imogen’s neck.
It was the underlying anger, she decided. Maybe even fury. And for the life of her she couldn’t imagine why he should be so upset. He had left her fourteen months ago so didn’t that mean she had the jump on anger right now? Unfortunately all she could conjure up was paralysed shock.
Sensing her unease, Minh shifted defensively beside her and Imogen took a deep breath, rallying her scattered senses. ‘Yes.’ She cleared her throat.
‘That’s nice.’ Nadir’s smile was all even white teeth and completely lethal. Then he slowly drew off his sunglasses and his shockingly beautiful blue-grey eyes drilled into hers with all the warmth of a glacier. ‘Who’s the father?’
CHAPTER TWO (#ue1ebb4a9-43dd-561e-9f06-7416d29bf883)
WHO’S THE FATHER?
Imogen stared at Nadir, slowly digesting his snarled words. She’d only heard him use that tone once before and it was on the phone to some poor sod in his home country and the shock of it kick-started her brain into a usable gear. Steadying her trembling knees, she forced a smile to her lips and thought that of course he would want to know about the baby. Why wouldn’t he? It was his doctor, after all, who had confirmed her pregnancy that fateful night in his Paris apartment all those months ago.
God, if she’d only left work five minutes earlier or later this whole situation might have been avoided. She swallowed heavily and forced herself to meet his hard stare, his raised eyebrow that could make him look either wickedly seductive or incredibly foreboding. Today it was definitely foreboding, which didn’t help to explain the electrodes of excitement pulsing through her body, making her both shivery and hot at the same time.
No, not excitement, she corrected; it was adrenaline. Her fight or flight system was on overload; her reaction could hardly be considered excitement after the way he had treated her. The reminder of that helped calm her down and she gave him a tight smile, a deep sense of self-preservation warning her not to answer his question just yet. ‘It’s a surprise to see you like this.’
‘I’m sure it is, habibi. Now answer my question.’
Swallowing heavily, she raised her chin. He used to whisper that term of endearment to her when he was about to seduce her and God, she wished it wasn’t such an effort to hold those erotic memories of their fleeting time together at bay but it was. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Don’t play games with me, Imogen. I’m not in the mood.’
A ripple of unease slid down her spine and Minh, obviously sensing Nadir’s ire as much as she could, half stepped in front of her. ‘Ease up there, chief. There’s no need to be aggressive.’
Nadir slowly turned his razor-sharp gaze to Minh and, although Minh didn’t flinch, Imogen did. Unfortunately Minh had no idea that the infamous rebel prince was Nadeena’s father. Imogen hadn’t told anyone.
‘And you are?’ Nadir’s question came out as if he’d just asked Minh if he had any last requests.
‘Imogen’s friend.’
‘I suggest you back off, Imogen’s friend.’ Nadir’s lip curled into a sneer. ‘This is not your business.’ Then he turned the full force of his attention back to her and Imogen really wished that he hadn’t. ‘Well?’
How could he make one word sound so powerful?
‘Sorry, but I don’t like your attitude, chief.’ Minh puffed out his chest and Imogen groaned. ‘You need to dial it down a little.’
‘It’s okay, Minh.’ She gave his arm a squeeze, only just realising that her arm was still linked with his. ‘I know him.’
Nadir pinned her with a patronising look. ‘That’s putting it mildly, habibi.’
His meaning was clear and Imogen felt a flush rise up her neck.
‘I don’t like him,’ Minh said softly.
Neither did she but she drew on all her training as a performer and gave him a smile worthy of an award. ‘It’s okay. Really. Why don’t you head home? I can take care of this.’
‘You’re sure?’ Minh looked dubious.
‘She just said she was, didn’t she?’
Imogen only just managed to prevent Minh from trying to stand up to Nadir again and patted a sleepy Nadeena, who had grown restless. ‘Go. Really. We’ll be fine.’
‘Call me if you need me,’ Minh ordered, reluctantly heading towards Green Park tube station.
As soon as he was out of sight she let out a relieved breath. One hardcore male was better than two, wasn’t it?
Reluctantly turning back, she calmed her breathing and faced Nadir. ‘What’s this about, Nadir?’
‘What do you think?’
She tried to pull off a nonchalant shrug but her movements felt stiff and disjointed. He’d walked away from her fourteen months ago so she had no idea. ‘If I knew I wouldn’t ask,’ she countered, slightly annoyed herself now.
His silvery gaze transmitted how unimpressed he was with her response. ‘How old is she?’
‘How do you know she’s a she?’ Imogen hedged.
‘I don’t think it’s customary to dress a boy in a pink sunhat.’
‘Maybe I’m just bucking the trend.’
His hissed breath held a wealth of reaching-the-end-of-his-tether impatience. ‘How. Old. Is. She?’
Completely unprepared for both his anger and his relentless questioning, Imogen was at a loss as to how to follow the advice of her inner voice that warned her to tread cautiously and found herself blurting out the truth. ‘Five months.’
He rocked back on his heels, his hands going to his waist and pushing his jacket back to reveal his broad chest. ‘Then our affair did result in a child.’
Their affair? Talk about clarifying how he had felt about her back then... ‘I didn’t say that,’ she retorted forcefully.
The words came out rushed and his eyebrows shot up. ‘Then you were sleeping with someone else while we were together.’ His voice held the tenor of a wounded bull, which didn’t impress her at all.
‘Trust you to take that line of thinking,’ she said scathingly, remembering how he had basically accused her of the same thing their last night together in Paris. ‘And it’s none of your business.’
‘If she’s not mine then whose is she?’ His gaze once again narrowed in on Nadeena.
‘Mine,’ she countered evenly.
Nadir’s lips turned up into a snarl. ‘Do you really think you can fob me off with semantics?’
Imogen felt a dull pain tweak behind her right eyebrow. After the way he had treated the news of her pregnancy, she wanted to know his current motivation before blurting out any more home truths. ‘Look, Nadir—’
He said something in Arabic, cutting her off, and stepped closer to her, his wide shoulders blocking out all the natural light behind him. Imogen felt the cool glass of the shop window at her back and briefly closed her eyes to try and steady her racing heartbeat, only to snap them open again when Nadir’s voice sounded way too close to her ear. ‘Dammit, you’re not going to faint, are you?’
Faint?Faint? She stared up at him and then darted her eyes to the side. No, she wasn’t going to faint. But she did want to run. Fast.
