heart to hear him finally say it. As if she didn’t already know. As if she were hearing the words again for the first time. Ridiculous to feel so much when she’d had a year to think about what he’d said to his brother. And how he’d reacted when she’d confessed her love.
Malik stood. “I said the words, Sydney, though I did not intend for you to hear them. It was never my intention to hurt you.”
Her head tilted back as she gazed up at him. Tears pressed at the corners of her eyes, but she’d be damned if she let one fall while he stood there. She would be strong, unfeeling.
Just like him.
“Then I’m not sure what we have left to talk about. You said you’d made a mistake. And now we’re divorcing. Everything has worked out perfectly for you.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “Perhaps it has.”
He glanced at his watch. He looked so cool, so controlled, while she felt like a mess inside. Her stomach fluttered, her chest ached and she was no longer hungry.
“The clothing will be here in an hour. Choose what you like. Pay me if you wish. I care not.” He inclined his head. “Until tonight.”
Sydney had an overwhelming urge to throw something at his retreating back. Instead, she punched one of the pillows lining the seating area. It didn’t help.
Malik felt nothing. She felt everything. And this was only day two.
CHAPTER SIX
SYDNEY dressed with care in the turquoise silk abaya she’d chosen from the selection the seamstress brought. She did not wear a headscarf, but she did twist her hair into a loose knot and secured it with a couple of rhinestone pins. She wore her own shoes with the outfit, a pair of kitten-heeled strappy sandals that didn’t give her the height she would have liked but were very comfortable and modest.
She kept her makeup subtle, concentrating on her eyes and adding a touch of pink gloss to her lips. When she was satisfied she looked presentable, she grabbed her small clutch and went to meet Malik.
He was standing in the entryway, waiting. She hesitated when she caught sight of him, but he looked up just then and she could do nothing except stride boldly forward. He’d always been gorgeous in a tuxedo, but tonight he made her heart ache with longing. He wore a black dishdasha, embroidered at the sleeves and hem in gold thread. His keffiyeh was the traditional dark red. Somehow the framing around his face succeeded in drawing her attention to his mouth.
That bold, sensual mouth that had taken her to heaven and back.
She looked away, determined not to think about it. And yet she could feel the heat rising, flaring beneath her skin. Between her thighs. A tingle of sensation began deep inside, whether she wanted it to or not.
How could she still be attracted to him when he’d hurt her so badly? He didn’t want her, not really. He’d thought she was a mistake. It was too much like growing up in the perfect Reed family, where she was the imperfect one. The mistake. Her family was blond, tanned, gorgeous, ambitious, successful. She was none of those things.
“Do not fear, Sydney,” Malik said, mistaking her inability to look him in the eye for shyness. “You look lovely. The king and queen will not find fault with you.”
“Thank you,” she replied. Because there was nothing else to say. Not without sounding pitifully insecure and needy.
Soon, they were exiting the house and climbing into a sleek silver Bugatti. The engine roared like a tiger as Malik accelerated onto the thoroughfare. She turned her head, gazed at the city lights instead of at him. The sports car was super expensive, but the interior was small. He sat so close to her. Too close.
She could smell his skin, the scent of his shampoo. She could feel his heat as if he were curled around her.
Or maybe that was her heat as her body reacted to him.
His voice sliced into the silence. “My brother does not know why you are here.”
Sydney whipped her head around to stare at him. For a
Malik stood. “I said the words, Sydney, though I did not intend for you to hear them. It was never my intention to hurt you.”
Her head tilted back as she gazed up at him. Tears pressed at the corners of her eyes, but she’d be damned if she let one fall while he stood there. She would be strong, unfeeling.
Just like him.
“Then I’m not sure what we have left to talk about. You said you’d made a mistake. And now we’re divorcing. Everything has worked out perfectly for you.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “Perhaps it has.”
He glanced at his watch. He looked so cool, so controlled, while she felt like a mess inside. Her stomach fluttered, her chest ached and she was no longer hungry.
“The clothing will be here in an hour. Choose what you like. Pay me if you wish. I care not.” He inclined his head. “Until tonight.”
Sydney had an overwhelming urge to throw something at his retreating back. Instead, she punched one of the pillows lining the seating area. It didn’t help.
Malik felt nothing. She felt everything. And this was only day two.
CHAPTER SIX
SYDNEY dressed with care in the turquoise silk abaya she’d chosen from the selection the seamstress brought. She did not wear a headscarf, but she did twist her hair into a loose knot and secured it with a couple of rhinestone pins. She wore her own shoes with the outfit, a pair of kitten-heeled strappy sandals that didn’t give her the height she would have liked but were very comfortable and modest.
She kept her makeup subtle, concentrating on her eyes and adding a touch of pink gloss to her lips. When she was satisfied she looked presentable, she grabbed her small clutch and went to meet Malik.
He was standing in the entryway, waiting. She hesitated when she caught sight of him, but he looked up just then and she could do nothing except stride boldly forward. He’d always been gorgeous in a tuxedo, but tonight he made her heart ache with longing. He wore a black dishdasha, embroidered at the sleeves and hem in gold thread. His keffiyeh was the traditional dark red. Somehow the framing around his face succeeded in drawing her attention to his mouth.
That bold, sensual mouth that had taken her to heaven and back.
She looked away, determined not to think about it. And yet she could feel the heat rising, flaring beneath her skin. Between her thighs. A tingle of sensation began deep inside, whether she wanted it to or not.
How could she still be attracted to him when he’d hurt her so badly? He didn’t want her, not really. He’d thought she was a mistake. It was too much like growing up in the perfect Reed family, where she was the imperfect one. The mistake. Her family was blond, tanned, gorgeous, ambitious, successful. She was none of those things.
“Do not fear, Sydney,” Malik said, mistaking her inability to look him in the eye for shyness. “You look lovely. The king and queen will not find fault with you.”
“Thank you,” she replied. Because there was nothing else to say. Not without sounding pitifully insecure and needy.
Soon, they were exiting the house and climbing into a sleek silver Bugatti. The engine roared like a tiger as Malik accelerated onto the thoroughfare. She turned her head, gazed at the city lights instead of at him. The sports car was super expensive, but the interior was small. He sat so close to her. Too close.
She could smell his skin, the scent of his shampoo. She could feel his heat as if he were curled around her.
Or maybe that was her heat as her body reacted to him.
His voice sliced into the silence. “My brother does not know why you are here.”
Sydney whipped her head around to stare at him. For a
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