The Darkest of Secrets (12 page)

‘Then tell me.’

No.
She tried for a smile. ‘We’ve spent enough time today talking about old memories.’

‘That’s a brush-off if I’ve ever heard one.’ He didn’t sound annoyed, just accepting or perhaps amused. He rolled to a sitting position and began packing the remains of their picnic. Was their perfect day over already?

‘We don’t have to go yet—’

He touched her heated cheek. ‘You’re getting sunburn. We’re very close to the coast of Africa, you know. The sun is incredibly hot.’

Silently Grace helped him pack up their things. She felt a confused welter of emotions: frustration that the afternoon had ended, as well as relief that it hadn’t gone too far. And over it all like a smothering blanket whose weight she’d become so unbearably used to, guilt. Always the guilt.

‘Cheer up.’ Chuckling softly, Khalis touched her cheek again, his fingers lingering on her skin. ‘Don’t look so disappointed, Grace. It’s only one day.’

Exactly,
she wanted to say. Shout. One day—that was all she had. All she’d allow herself, and Khalis knew that. He’d said so himself—hadn’t he? Doubt suddenly pricked her. Had she assumed he understood because it was easier to do so? Easier to be blinded by your own desires, to justify and excuse and ignore. But if he didn’t understand. if he hadn’t accepted her silent, implied terms that today was all they would ever share … what did he want? What did he expect?

Whatever it was, she couldn’t give it to him, and a poignant sorrow swept over her as she realised for the first time she wanted to.

CHAPTER SEVEN

W
HEN
Grace returned to her room she was surprised to find Shayma in attendance, along with an impressive array of clothes and beauty products. Grace stared at a tray of make-up and nail varnish in bewilderment.

‘What is all this …?’

Shayma smiled shyly. ‘Mr Tannous, he wishes me to help you prepare.’

‘Prepare?’ Grace turned to gaze at the half-dozen gowns spread out on the bed in bewilderment. ‘For what?’

‘He is taking you somewhere, I think?’

‘Taking me …’ Where on earth could he take her to? Not that it mattered; she couldn’t go anywhere. She couldn’t be seen in public with Khalis, or with any man. Not on a proper date, at least.

‘Are they not beautiful?’ Shayma said, lifting one of the gowns from the bed. Grace swallowed as she looked at it.

‘Gorgeous,’ she admitted. The dress was a body-hugging sheath in ivory silk, encrusted with seed pearls. It looked like a very sexy wedding gown.

‘And this one as well.’ Shayma lifted a dress in a blue so deep it looked black, the satin shimmering like moonlight on water.

‘Amazing.’ The dresses were all incredible, and she could not suppress the purely feminine longing to wear one. To have Khalis see her in one.

‘And shoes and jewels to match each one,’ Shayma told her happily.

Grace shook her head helplessly. She could not believe the trouble and expense Khalis had gone to. She could not believe how much she wanted to wear one of the gowns, and go on a date—a proper date—with him.

See how it happens?
her conscience mocked her.
Temptation creeps in, slithers and stalks. And before you know it you’re doing things you never, ever thought you’d do. And telling yourself it’s OK.

She knew the rules of her agreement with Loukas. No inappropriate behaviour. No dating. No men. It wasn’t fair or really even legal, but in the four years since her divorce she hadn’t really cared about the restrictions Loukas had placed upon her. Her heart had its own restrictions. Don’t trust. Don’t love.
Don’t lose yourself.
She hadn’t wanted any of it—until Khalis. Khalis made her long to feel close to someone again, to feel the fire of physical desire and the sweetness of shared joy. For the first time in four years she was tempted to let someone in. To trust him with her secrets.

Grace turned away from the sight of those tempting dresses. It was impossible, she reminded herself. Even if her contrary heart had changed, the conditions of her custody arrangement had not.

‘Miss …?’ Shayma asked hesitantly, and Grace turned back with an apologetic smile.

‘I’m sorry, Shayma. I can’t wear any of these dresses.’

Shayma stared at her in confused dismay. ‘You do not like them?’

‘No, I love them all. But I’m not. I can’t go out with Mr Tannous.’ Shayma looked more confused, and even worried. Grace patted her hand. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll explain to him myself.’

She took a moment to brush her hair and steel herself before heading towards the part of the compound that housed Khalis’s study.

Khalis sat behind his desk, and he smiled as she came in. ‘I need to tell you—’

He held up one hand. ‘You’d like to thank me for the dresses, but you won’t go out with me tonight.’

Grace stopped short. ‘How did you know?’

‘I’d expect nothing less from you, Grace. Nothing about you is easy.’

She bristled; she couldn’t help it. ‘I’m not sure why you bother, then.’

‘I think you do. We share something unusual, something profound—don’t we?’ He didn’t sound remotely uncertain. Grace said nothing, but her silence didn’t seem to faze Khalis in the least. ‘I’ve never felt that before with any woman, Grace. And I don’t think you’ve felt it with any man.’ He paused, his gaze intent and serious. ‘Not even your ex-husband.’

She swallowed. Audibly. And still didn’t speak.

‘You fascinate me, Grace. You make me feel alive and open and
happy.
‘

Grace shook her head slowly. Did he know what his heartfelt confessions did to her? How hungry and heartbroken they made her feel? ‘I’m really not that fascinating.’

He smiled wryly. ‘Perhaps I’m easily fascinated, then.’

‘Perhaps you’re easily misguided.’

He arched an eyebrow, clearly surprised by this turn in the conversation. ‘Misguided? How?’

Her throat tightened around the words she couldn’t say. ‘You don’t really know me,’ she said softly.

‘I’m getting to know you. I want to know you.’ She shook her head again, unwilling to explain that she didn’t want him to get to know her. She didn’t want him to know. ‘Why won’t you go out with me tonight?’

‘As I’ve told you before, I can’t.’

‘Can’t,’ Khalis repeated musingly. His body remained relaxed, but his gaze was hard now, unyielding, and Grace knew she would bend beneath that assessing stare. She would break. ‘Are you afraid of your ex-husband?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘Stop talking in riddles.’

Grace knew she’d prevaricated long enough. Khalis had been gentle, patient, kind. He deserved a little honesty. Just a little.

‘I have a daughter,’ she said quietly. ‘Katerina. She’s five years old.’

Khalis’s expression didn’t change, not really, beyond the slight flare of realisation in his eyes, turning them darker, more grey than green, like the ice that covered a lake. You had no idea how hard or thick it was until you stepped on it, let it take your full weight. And then heard the resounding crack in the air as it broke beneath you.

‘And?’ he finally asked softly.

‘My ex-husband has custody of her. I get to see her once a month.’

She could almost hear the creak of the ice, the cracks like spiderwebs splintering the solid ground beneath them. What Khalis had
thought
was solid ground. ‘Why is that?’ he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

She swallowed, words sticking in her throat, jagged shards of truth she could not dislodge. ‘It’s complicated,’ she whispered.

‘How complicated?’

‘He’s a very powerful and wealthy man,’ she explained, choosing each word with agonised care. ‘Our marriage was … troubled and … and our divorce acrimonious. He used his influence to win complete custody.’ Her throat closed up over those unsaid jagged shards so they cut her up inside, although surely they’d already done all their damage? She’d lived with the loss of her daughter and her own painful part in it for four years already. Yet it hurt more to tell Khalis now because she never spoke of it. Never to anyone she cared about. And she cared about Khalis. She’d tried not to, still wished she didn’t, but she couldn’t deny the truth he’d spoken. They did share something. She felt her mouth wobble and tried to look away.

Khalis walked towards her, his expression softening, a sad smile tipping the corners of his mouth. ‘Oh, Grace.’ She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the undeserved compassion in his gaze. He put his arms around her though she didn’t lean into his embrace as she longed to. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It was my fault … partly …’ A big part.

Khalis brushed this aside, his arms tightening around her. ‘Why didn’t you fight the custody arrangement? Most judges are inclined favourably towards the mother—’

Except when the mother was thought to be unfit. ‘I … couldn’t,’ she said. At least that was true. She hadn’t possessed the strength or courage to fight a judgement her heart had felt was what she deserved.

Khalis tipped her chin up so she had to face him. He looked so tender it made her want to cry. To blurt out the truth—that she didn’t deserve his compassion or his trust, and certainly not his love. ‘What does this have to do with you and me?’

You and me.
How she wanted to believe in that idea. ‘Loukas—my ex-husband monitors my behaviour. He’s made it a requirement that I don’t become … romantically involved with any man. If I do, I lose that month’s visit with Katerina.’

Khalis drew back and stared at her in complete bafflement. ‘But that … that has to be completely illegal. And outrageous. How can he control your behaviour to such an absurd degree?’

‘He has the trump card,’ Grace said. ‘My daughter.’

‘Grace, surely you could fight this. With a
pro bono
solicitor if money is an issue. There’s no way he should be able to—’

‘No.’ She spoke flatly, although her heart raced and her stomach churned. What on earth had possessed her to tell him so much—and yet so little? Now he’d paint her as even more of a victim. ‘No, don’t, please, Khalis. Leave it. Let’s not discuss this any more.’

He frowned, shaking his head. ‘I don’t understand—’

‘Please.’ She laid a hand on his arm, felt the corded muscles leap beneath her fingers. ‘Please,’ she said again, her voice wobbling, and his frown deepened. She thought he’d resist, keep arguing and insisting she fight a battle she knew she’d already lost, but then he sighed and nodded.

‘All right. But I’d still like you to go out with me.’

‘After what I just told you?’

Smiling, although his eyes still looked dark and troubled, he reached for her hand and kissed her fingers. ‘I understand you can’t be seen in public with me—yet. But we can still go out.’

She felt the brush of his lips against her fingers like an electric current, jolting right through her and short-circuiting her resolve. She longed to open her hand and press it against his mouth, feel the warmth of his breath against her flattened palm. Step closer so her breasts brushed his chest. With the last vestiges of her willpower she drew her hand back and dredged up a response. ‘Go out where?’

‘Out there.’ He gestured towards the window, the wall. ‘Away from this wretched compound.’

‘But where—?’

‘Grace.’ He cut her off, stepping closer so she could feel the intoxicating heat of his nearness and knew her resolve was melting clean away. ‘Do you trust me,’ he asked, ‘to take you somewhere your ex-husband could never discover? A place where you’ll be completely safe—with me?’

She stared at him, fear and longing clutching at her chest. One day. One date. It had been four long years and she’d never,
never
known a man like Khalis—a man so gentle he made her ache, so kind he made her cry. A man who made her burn with need. She nodded slowly. ‘All right. Yes. I trust you.’

His mouth curled in a smile of sensual triumph and he reached for her hand, kissed her fingers again. ‘Good. Because I really would like to take you out to dinner. I’d like to see you in one of those dresses, and I’d like to peel it slowly from your body as I make love to you tonight.’ He gave her a wry smile even as his gaze seared straight into her soul. ‘But I’ll settle for dinner.’

The images he’d conjured brought her whole body tingling to life. ‘I can’t imagine a place where we can go to dinner that’s not—’

‘Leave that to me.’ He released her hand. ‘You can spend some time being spoiled by Shayma.’ He pressed a quick, firm kiss against her mouth. ‘We’ll have a wonderful evening. I’m looking forward to seeing which gown you pick.’

Two hours later, having been massaged and made-up and completely pampered, Grace was dressed in the dress of deep blue satin. She’d wanted to wear the ivory gown, but it had looked too bridal for her to feel comfortable wearing it. She wasn’t innocent enough for that dress.

In any case, the blue satin was stunning, with its halter top and figure-hugging silhouette before it flared out in a spray of paler blue at her ankles. Shayma had fastened a diamond-encrusted sapphire pendant around her neck and given her matching earrings as well. She felt like a movie star.

‘You look beautiful, miss,’ Shayma whispered as she handed Grace her gauzy wrap and Grace smiled her thanks.

‘You’ve been wonderful to me, Shayma. It’s been one of the most relaxing afternoons I’ve had in a long time.’

Khalis was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase, and he blinked up at her for a moment before he gave her a wide, slow smile of pure masculine appreciation. ‘You look,’ he told her, reaching for her hand, ‘utterly amazing.’

‘You look rather nice yourself.’ He wore a suit in charcoal-grey silk, but Grace knew he’d look magnificent in anything. He was, simply and utterly, an incredibly attractive man. The suit emphasised the lean, whipcord strength of his body, its restrained power. ‘So where are we going?’

‘You’ll see.’

He led her by the hand out of the compound, through the forbidding gates and then towards the beach. Night was already settling softly on the island, leaving deep violet shadows and turning the placid surface of the sea to an inky stretch of darkness.