Page 149 of The Tycoon's Affair: Tempted By Desire

He continued, ‘She told me about her girlfriend in college, and how she was too terrified to stand up to her mother...that she’s always had trouble standing up to her.’ Arkim’s mouth twisted. ‘I can understand why.’

Sylvie reeled. ‘My God...she reallydidtell you everything.’

Arkim nodded. ‘She also told me that she’d refused to let you do anything at first, because she didn’t want you to damage your already contentious relationship with your father and stepmother, and they’d inevitably blame you even though it had nothing to do with you... But the week of the wedding she was panicking so much that she accepted your offer to step in at the last minute if she needed it. Which is what you did...in your own inimitable way.’

Sylvie blushed, thinking of that daring moment again. Arkim looked equable enough right now, but she knew how deep his emotions went, and how he simmered.

Trepidation gripped her. ‘Were you angry with her?’

For a second he just looked at her, and then he said with faint incredulity, ‘Even now your first concern is whether or not I got angry with her?’

Sylvie squirmed. ‘Well, I know how intimidating you can be.’

Arkim’s mouth thinned. ‘At first I was angry, yes.’ He reacted to the look that crossed Sylvie’s face. ‘I had a right to be. Both of you made me a laughing stock. If Sophie had just come to me and explained I would have understood. I’m not such an ogre.Hell.’

He turned away in disgust, to look out of the window. Sylvie felt immediately chastened. She knew that he wouldn’t have taken it out on Sophie...all of Arkim’s anger was only ever forher.

She pushed down the sense of futility. ‘You’re right,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘I should have come to you myself and said something... If we’d been able to stop the wedding a week before it would have avoided the messy scandal it became. But I knew how unlikely it was that you’d believe anything I said...’

Some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders. He turned back, those black eyes like pools of obsidian. To Sylvie’s surprise, his mouth quirked ever so slightly on one side.

‘I guess I have to give you that... I would have seen it as just another jealous attempt to make me notice you.’ His expression became shuttered. ‘I believed you werejealous...you let me believe that, like a fool.’

She knew she owed him total honesty now—especially after Sophie’s bravery—albeit belated. She forced herself to look at him. ‘The truth is...as much as I was doing it for Sophie Iwasjealous. I wanted you...for myself.’

She hadn’t even properly admitted that to herself until this moment. Her head felt light.

Arkim’s eyes gleamed. He breathed out. ‘Iknewit...’

For a second she thought he was about to reach for her, and her whole body tingled, but then a discreet tap came from nearby. It took a minute for her to figure out that the driver was knocking on the partition, alerting them to the fact that they’d pulled up outside a building on a quiet street.

Sylvie felt a little dizzy. She looked out of the window and didn’t immediately recognise much, except for the fact that they were in a very expensive part of Paris. Her voice was husky. ‘Where are we?’

‘My apartment building on the Île Saint-Louis.’

She looked back to Arkim. She felt confused, she wasn’t sure where they stood any more.

He said, ‘I have something for you upstairs.’

She joked weakly, ‘That’s not a very original chat-up line.’

He was serious. ‘It’s not a chat-up line. I reallydohave something for you.’

‘Oh.’ She instantly felt silly. The driver—as if knowing just the perfect moment to capitalise on her doubts—appeared at her door and opened it. By the time she was standing, clutching her bag, Arkim was waiting for her, darkly handsome and very vital-looking against the grey stone of the old building.

How was it that he could look so devastating, no matter what milieu he was in? she grumbled to herself as she let him lead her into the building. She felt very dishevelled when she saw the marble floor and discreetly exquisite furnishings. And the uniformed concierge who treated Arkim like royalty.

There was a lift attendant, and Sylvie almost felt like giggling. It was so far removed from the constantly out of use elevator in her rickety building in Montmartre.

The lift came to a smooth stop and Arkim led her into a luxuriously carpeted hall, with one door at the end. He opened it and she walked in cautiously, her eyes widening as she took in the parquet floors and quietly sumptuous decor.

The reception rooms were spacious, with floor-to-ceiling French doors looking out over Paris and the Seine. The furniture was antique, but not fussy. Comfortable, inviting.

Drawn by something she’d spotted, she walked over to the opposite side of the room and stood before a black and white photo.

‘It’s Al-Hibiz.’

Arkim’s voice was close enough to set Sylvie’s nerve endings alight. ‘Yes,’ she said, remembering her first view of the majestic castle. A terrible sense of longing for that wide open landscape washed over her.The oasis.