‘I HAVE A surprise for you,’ Leandro’s voice was low and lazy. He stroked her with one finger, trailing the feathery touch from her cheek along her shoulder blades and then dipping down to her cleavage.
Celia smiled and sighed, enjoying the familiar tingle his slightest touch produced in her.
They seemed to have spent the past five days in bed, a blissful orgy of love-making only interrupted by occasional sightseeing and food.
The sweeping swimming pool had largely remained unexplored and they had only actually gone to the beach once.
‘Perhaps not the best of ideas...’ Leandro had murmured, toying with her copper hair, twirling strands around his long, brown fingers, ‘not with your colouring. You might burn.’
‘There’s a reason why sunblock was invented,’ Celia had responded wryly, ‘and, strangely, I tan pretty easily for a redhead. I must have inherited some of Dad’s genes there.’ But she had succumbed fast enough to the promise of what he had had in mind as an alternative.
She couldn’t resist him. She would never be able to resist him. For now, she knew that it was mutual, but how long would that last for him? Surely not for ever, because the sweaty heat of passion always calmed and into that calm came the glory of contentment, but only if there was love as a stepping stone. Without that, there was always the danger that a replacement would be found to fill the vacuum.
Celia tried hard not to project into the future because their future was hardly straightforward with a baby in the mix. He was proving himself in so many ways he was probably not even aware of...proving himself in his kindness and his generosity, and she knew that that would translate into just the qualities that went into great parenting.
And the power of parenthood could be stronger than the tug of lust, especially for a man like Leandro, an honourable man who knew, from first-hand experience, the bitterness of an incomplete home. He was prepared to marry her for the sake of his baby and with that, he would surely realise, would come a curtailment of his freedoms? Once, she had wondered whether he might put their arrangement on a par with what he had had with Julie, but he and Julie had been platonic friends with the understanding written in from the start that they would discreetly take lovers, as need be.
That was quite different from what they shared. There would be no open doors when boredom with her kicked in, when he grew tired of the novelty of sleeping with her.
He would risk jeopardising the very thing he wanted to protect if he thought that he could look elsewhere, but would that be sufficient to stop him if and when that time arrived?
And what would she do if she were to be confronted with that situation?
These were uncomfortable questions that Celia thought it best to leave be. Why look for pain in advance? Why not throw herself into what they had and hope that the future was different from the one she predicted?
‘A surprise?’ she said now, still smiling, making sure her eyes didn’t give away the tenderness she felt every time she looked at him. She had learned how to conceal what needed concealing and only revealed her emotions when he was asleep, when she could look at him with unguarded love.
‘Last night here and then it’s back to London.’
‘I know.’ She groaned and flung herself back to stare at the ceiling for a couple of seconds before facing him once again, stomach to stomach, their bodies pressed against one another. She grinned. ‘I’d forgotten how nice it is being away from the grindstone for a bit.’
‘We’ll have a proper honeymoon later,’ Leandro promised. ‘Wherever you want to go.’
That was music to Celia’s ears and she smiled. ‘I’ll start searching as soon as we’re back,’ she teased. ‘Sure you can take more time off work?’
‘I own it all. I can do whatever I want. If there’s one thing money and power buy, it’s freedom. That’s all I ever wanted and I have it now, so yes. I can take whatever time I want away from the desk.’
‘Were you and Julie planning on having a honeymoon?’ Celia wasn’t sure whether this question overstepped boundaries and then she decided that, as he was her husband-to-be, she should be free to overstep them. She would never ask him any question unless his answer couldn’t hurt her. She would never ask him if he could ever love her...or how much she meant to him...those were lines her own self-defence mechanisms would never allow her to overstep, but everything else?
This was all part and parcel of the sort of friendship zone he had in mind, surely.
‘No,’ Leandro admitted without any hesitation. ‘Ours was purely a business arrangement and, to be honest, Charles wouldn’t have been too surprised at the lack of a honeymoon. He’s always known me for the workaholic that I am. I expect, for the sake of appearances, we might have gone to some city or other for a weekend, but I would have worked and she would have shopped.’
‘I guess we could have done that,’ Celia mused. ‘I mean, when you first thought about having one. It’s not as though...well...’
‘As though we were planning on picking up where we’d left off?’ Leandro shifted, thinking that there was no way that work and shopping were going to be the only things they did. That would have been impossible.
‘Tell me what the surprise is.’
‘Dinner.’
‘Dinner?’
‘There won’t be any air conditioning where we’re going tonight and the views might be slightly different from what you’ve sampled before, but I’m hoping you enjoy the experience.’ He grinned and began easing himself off the bed. ‘We’re being collected in an hour...so bath time, I think. Although...’ his grin broadened and there was a glint of wicked invitation in his eyes ‘...we could have a bit more fun before we get changed...’
Celia took her time in the bath. Leandro was making calls. With the door to the bathroom open, she could dimly hear his deep voice and could picture him sprawled on the leather sofa in the sitting room, lazily telling his army of CEOs what to do and when.
She closed her eyes, wanting to relive everything they had done here since they’d come. She’d always led a sheltered life. Holidays were caravan parks and then, later, a rush of adrenaline when she’d gone on a ski holiday with her class to France. Then, in the blink of an eye, she and Martin were planning a future, heads in the clouds, and holidays were something not even on the agenda because they’d both been young and too broke to even buy a place to live.
She’d rushed headlong from that broken relationship to running her own business and trying to build it into something and, during those years, the very thought of a holiday was a joke.
So now? Overload. She’d managed to pack into a handful of days an entire lifetime’s worth of gaping tourism.
They’d dined in a restaurant many floors up in their hotel and, sitting on beaded cushions, she had looked out through elegant arches to the stunning Burj Khalifa, which rose like a needle piercing the velvet sky. She’d been taken for a personal visit to a top falconer and seen how the birds were trained and watched as Leandro had handled one with unexpected expertise. She’d experienced the glitz and glamour of the Dubai Mall and been impressed by the architectural magnificence of the Burj Al Arab, a breathtaking testament to the bold contrasts that characterised the vibrant, bustling city. Everywhere was a fascinating mix of old and new, where the vibrancy of concrete, glass and stone nudged the stillness of the sand and sea.
Celia half guessed where they might be going but she was still impressed to death when they left the bright lights of the city behind and were driven out towards the open desert, an ocean of dark shapes and shadows, interrupted here and there with occasional bursts of bushes and trees.
Their driver played proud tour guide, told them about the history of Bedouin nomads who once called the land their home. All the while her eyes darted greedily out, shivering at the dark swirls and swells of sand while, next to her, Leandro’s fingers curled into hers, setting alight all those forbidden emotions within her.
The utterly private Bedouin camp that greeted them took Celia’s breath away. They were ushered into an enclosed area, which was incredible—with colourful rugs and lanterns and huge, hand-woven cushions and adorned with traditional relics.
‘We could have spent the night here,’ Leandro told her over the delicious hand-prepared meal that was brought in to them with a lot of pomp and ceremony, in various stages. ‘There’s a very nice and very small boutique hotel just a camel ride away. In fact, we’ll go there before we head back so that we can freshen up and you can have a look at the pool. It’s quite something. Fashioned to resemble an oasis. That said, I wanted to spend the last night here in our own bed with no one around...’
The lanterns flickered, creating a seductive, mellow atmosphere. The daytime heat had subsided and here, in the ornate tent, the air was fragrant with delicate incense and just the right side of warm. Celia had worn a floaty dress, perfectly buttoned up and respectful of all the dress codes of the country, but underneath the silk and cotton she felt the wetness pool between her legs and she pressed them together. Her mouth parted and Leandro fluttered his finger across her lips, touching her in a way that sent her pulses racing.
‘We still have to finish the dessert course,’ Celia breathed. ‘And we can’t leave without sampling the coffee. You know how proud they are of their coffee here...’
‘Sadly you have a point, even though I’d like nothing more than to take that dress off you, button by button. Another time and another place...’ He sat back with an elaborate sigh of resignation. ‘We need to change the subject and urgently or else I’m going to have to make some kind of excuse and skip the dessert and coffee.’
Celia laughed. ‘Okay. Tell me about Julie’s dad and what’s happening now that he’s out of hospital... I had an email from Dan and apparently Julie’s dad is over the moon at the upcoming wedding.’
‘Yes.’ Leandro grimaced. ‘Julie and I decided that honesty was the best policy. We told him about the reason for the engagement. I’d half expected him to hit the roof, if I’m honest, but she knows her father better than I do and she was right in guessing that, with his finances now in order and presented with a fait accompli, his pride wouldn’t be a problem. He’s also over the moon that his daughter has found true love, given the horror story of her first marriage.’
Celia looked down and squashed a sudden sharp pang of envy. She’d smiled at many a radiant bride-to-be, twisting and turning and beaming at a fitting, waxing lyrical about The Big Day, but this was the first time she’d ever felt envious at someone else’s dream wedding. She knew why. This was the first time she was in the position of knowing that her own dream would never come true even though, cruelly, she was just so close. The baby...the wedding plans...the man of her dreams... Just so happened that she wasn’t the woman of his...
For the rest of the night, while they finished their lavish meal, they skimmed the surface, chatting about all sorts of things. When Celia thought back to the arrogant guy who had shown up at her shop, setting her teeth on edge, she almost couldn’t believe that they were here now.
Was he equally aware of how far they’d come?
There was a familiarity between them that said so much. Did he recognise that as well? Or was he so embedded behind the walls he had built around himself that this was all just part and parcel of the friendship angle he felt they needed to cultivate? There was lust in one box and friendship in another box but there was no box for love because, for Leandro, that didn’t exist.
Lust and friendship didn’t add up, for him, the way they did for her to anything more than two separate emotions and the friendship element, she recognised, was only there at all because of the situation in which they found themselves.
For what they had to work, they had to get along. That was the practical approach and Leandro was practical and solution based.
If she had dug her heels in and refused to marry him because she wanted to be with someone who loved her, then she wondered if he might have been tempted to simply approach it from the solution-based angle that marriage would still be a good thing because a child needed two parents. So what was needed? A wife even if that wife wasn’t the birth mother.
Celia didn’t like thinking like that, but she knew that she had to protect herself somehow and being realistic was as good a protection as any. She wouldn’t beat herself up if sometimes, in her quiet moments or when she was just lying in his arms, she hoped for more. She was only human, after all! She just wouldn’t let hoping for more overtake having her eyes wide open.
‘You’ve gone quiet.’ This as they were back in the four-wheel drive and bumping away from the mysterious shape-shifting dunes, back to the bright twinkling lights of the city.
‘Have I?’ Celia plastered a bright smile on her face but it felt a little strained.
‘Tired?’
‘And very, very full.’
‘Not too tired and full, I hope...?’
Sex was uppermost on his mind, she thought, and, while it thrilled her, for once she would have liked to have told him how she was really feeling and the doubts that were crawling through her like bothersome insects that wouldn’t go away.
She pictured his face closing up and the shutters being pulled down. They had an arrangement and, without anything in writing, the terms and conditions of their arrangement were clear.
‘It’s being pregnant.’ She yawned, veering away from the powerful tug of honesty. ‘Something to do with the hormones, I guess.’
‘Celia, my apologies. It never occurred to me...’
Celia heard the genuine concern in his voice and relaxed. He might never love her, but he would love their child, of that she was one hundred per cent sure.
‘It’s okay.’ She laughed, relaxing. ‘I’m pretty new to this as well. I only recognise the symptoms as and when they occur!’
‘Okay...so tiredness and easily full...’
‘Leandro, the meal was enormous.’
‘What other signs and symptoms should I be on the lookout for?’
‘I think pregnant women can sometimes get a little over-emotional.’ Celia laid some groundwork just in case she needed it to come to her rescue in the future.
‘I don’t think that’s confined to pregnant women,’ Leandro drawled. ‘Perhaps I should download a book...’
‘You would download a book on pregnancy just to find out what you should look out for?’
‘Amongst other things...’
‘I thought you only read work-related tomes and heavy-duty biographies for light relief?’ she teased.
‘You make me sound like a bundle of laughs.’ He looked at her with an easy grin.
The bright lights of the hotel were ahead of them and suddenly she really did feel tired even though she’d been buzzing all night.
‘It’s nice that you want to actually read a pregnancy manual. I can’t think that many guys would be interested in doing that.’
‘Like I keep telling you, I’m not like many guys and, besides, that’s what we’re all about, isn’t it?’
Celia stilled and then was glad for the distraction of the car stopping and the doors being opened by the uniformed porters outside and then hurrying inside the hotel, out of the sticky night-time heat.
‘I mean,’ Leandro picked up when she’d hoped he might just have left it off, ‘this isn’t about us, this is about the baby we’ve made together, so it’s only right that I find out as much as I can about the business of pregnancy and giving birth and what I will be required to do. It’s new to you and it’s new to me as well.’
For once, she wasn’t desperate to get her clothes off when they entered their suite of rooms and, strangely, he seemed equally reticent.
She felt sticky and ever so slightly depressed and when she excused herself to go have a bath, he nodded without demur.
‘Get you something cold to drink?’ he offered, once again the very essence of kind consideration and reminding her, without even having to try, that this was first and foremost what he was about. Her welfare was his concern because she was carrying his baby. ‘The apricot juice is excellent. You might find it refreshing. It’s been a long evening, perhaps too long given your condition.’
Celia smiled tightly. Irritation surged through her. She knew she was being unfair, but she was still smarting from his casual reminder that what they had was all about the baby yet to be born. None of it was about her. He fancied her for the moment but essentially she didn’t matter.
And the fact that he was now treating her like a piece of porcelain made her even more irritated.
Was this how she would be treated as time wore on and the sex dimmed?
‘Apricot juice would be...lovely...’
‘Sure you’re okay?’
Celia bit back a sarcastic retort that would get neither of them anywhere and might even start erecting the sort of invisible barriers she would later find difficult to dismantle.
‘If this doesn’t work out between us, Leandro...what happens next?’
‘Whoa. Where did that come from?’ His brows knitted and his dark eyes were a little cooler now, a little more watchful and bemused.
Celia shrugged and looked away.
‘I thought we had a good time tonight,’ he said slowly.
‘We did.’
‘I thought we were doing a damn good job of getting to know one another.’
‘We are.’
‘Then where are you now heading with this?’
‘Nowhere.’ Celia looked at him, held his gaze, her eyes steady and as unreadable as his were.
‘I’m thinking,’ Leandro murmured, ‘that nowhere isn’t a direction for the questions you’re asking.’
‘I’m just tired, that’s all.’ She felt panicked at the box she’d opened because she knew that certain boxes, given their situation, were best left shut.
‘There’s only so far you can run with that excuse, Celia. That’s not the first time this evening you’ve told me that you’re tired and it’s beginning to sound like a sticking plaster being put onto something that’s really bugging you.’ He led the way to the sofa and beckoned her across.
He patted next to him and when she sat down he immediately turned to her, his eyes penetrating and intense, searching her face to get inside her head and find out what was going on.
‘So? Are you going to spit it out or are we going to go round the houses playing guessing games?’
‘I suppose we’ve discussed a lot of things,’ Celia muttered, one foot hovering over the edge of a cliff she’d been so determined not to go anywhere near. ‘We’ve talked about the practicalities like where we’re going to live and what the choices are for me after the baby’s born. We’ve discussed whether we would get a nanny if I decide to return to work and when returning to work might be appropriate...’
‘But...? Because I can hear the siren sound of a but.’
‘And I think that this has been a fantastic few days getting to know one another...’
‘Agreed.’ Leandro smiled with wolfish sexiness that made Celia’s bones feel like mush.
‘But lust and sex don’t last for ever...’
Leandro frowned. ‘We have yet to put that to the test.’
‘Maybe we should try and work out what we might do if and when that time comes.’
‘Why?’
‘What do you mean why?’
‘Why pre-empt a situation that’s nowhere on the horizon?’
‘Because...’
‘There are no guarantees in life, Celia.’ His eyes were serious and he was leaning into her, which had the effect of jumbling her thoughts until she wasn’t sure quite what she’d been trying to say in the first place. Her hands itched to touch him and to smooth over the crease that had suddenly appeared between them, like a ripple disturbing the flat, smooth surface of a lake.
‘I get that.’
‘We do our best and if problems arise at a later date, then that’s the time to try and sort them out.’
‘Yes, well...’
‘You want to turn this into a list of pros and cons and I don’t think that’s a good idea. We both know what we have to do, what the right thing to do is...don’t we?’ He inclined his head to one side and gave her a few seconds to respond, which she did by nodding. Not vigorously but sufficiently for him to nod firmly in return, in agreement with her. ‘We’ve talked at length about this,’ he said quietly. ‘In the end, there’s nothing in life that’s one hundred per cent guaranteed. Nothing. The rate of divorce says it all, wouldn’t you agree? People walk down the aisle with big dreams and big hopes but two thirds of those starry-eyed couples will see the inside of a divorce court sooner or later. What we have will be sturdier, trust me.’
Celia was the first to look away.
‘You’re right.’ But she had to try and inject conviction into her voice and remind herself of all the reasons why what they had was better than the alternative. She might be greedy for more, but greed was no reason to start unpicking what had been knitted together. When she smiled, there was more warmth and she stood up and told him that she was going to have a bath.
‘I have so many baths and showers here.’ She did her best to get things back on track.
‘It’s the heat.’ Leandro followed suit and stood up, towering over her, his dark eyes still concerned and still ever so slightly watchful. ‘Relax. I’ll hunt down some juice for you from the cafe downstairs. It’s open twenty-four-seven and I could do with stretching my legs.’
Celia kept smiling even though there was a wariness in his voice that dismayed her. Instead of relaxing in the bath, she opted for a quick shower and then, on the spur of the moment and instead of climbing into bed, she changed into a pair of loose dark culottes and a grey silk top and headed down to the cafe.
She knew where he had gone because it was the cafe that was transformed into the breakfast area in the morning.
There were several five-star restaurants in the complex and the cafe was the least formal of all.
At a little after eleven, it was still busy, with people coming and going. The crowd were all elegant, expensively dressed, and the mix of different languages as they chattered past her made Celia smile. This was a land of such contrasts, a place where people converged from all over the world, rich in diversity and ancient in its heritage.
Which made her think of the perfect evening they had shared at the desert. Leandro had put real thought into doing something special on their last evening in Dubai and he would have been utterly perplexed by the way she had thrown the gesture back in his face.
This wasn’t about him. This was about her and it suddenly felt imperative that she set things back on the right track.
Fired up with a new sense of purpose, Celia almost missed Leandro because she was so certain that she would find him at the long mirrored bar, which was still buzzing with people.
Standing in the doorway, she looked around, taking in the huge room as a whole. It was cleverly divided by tall, leafy trees in huge urns, and circular seating wrapped around marble-topped tables sectioned off private seating areas. Elsewhere, there were low, informal sofas with tables and more formal arrangements for dining.
Mostly people were standing with just a handful of diners sitting at some of the tables, having heaven only knew what manner of late-night snacks.
Eyes flitting then returning to the tall, languid figure leaning against the wall at the back, Celia felt her heart begin to beat fast.
Leandro was holding the glass of apricot juice and he was chatting to a young woman so stunningly beautiful that she took Celia’s breath away.
Her hair was short and sharp and raven-black and she was slender as a willow, wearing figure-hugging trousers and a bright red top that managed to be prim and ridiculously sexy at the same time.
She saw Leandro glance at his watch, smile, prepare to move off.
Nothing about his demeanour spoke of anything suspicious at all. He wasn’t standing too close to his companion and his expression was polite and friendly, but nothing more than that.
So why did she suddenly feel as though the world were tilting on its axis?
Old insecurities rose up with a vengeance and she was catapulted unfairly back to how she had felt when she had found out that Martin had found someone else, someone tall and beautiful and quite the opposite of her.
She’d felt wanting. It was the same feeling that hit her now like a wave and she stood there, eyes wide, trembling and trying to kill the feeling because there was no place for it in this scenario.
But she was rooted to the spot.
Leandro, on the other side of the room, was startled because he’d been chatting to the Princess for longer than he’d thought but out of politeness it had been impossible for him to get away.
She’d spotted him and hived off from the group of friends she had come with so that she could tell him all about the latest family sagas, of which there were many.
Leandro had met Leila several times and had helped her with various university application forms, guiding her in her choice of subject and giving her the rundown on what Cambridge as a town was like because that had been her choice of university.
But even as he’d been chatting, his mind had been taken up with Celia.
He’d hated her withdrawal. It had made him realise how much he’d become accustomed to the easiness that existed between them. The silences between them were as comfortable as the chat and for Leandro that said a lot, although he was only now realising how much.
He glanced idly at the exit, ready to make his polite excuses because a tipsy Princess looked set to talk for England while her bodyguards, discreetly positioned by the bar, tried to stifle their yawns.
He saw Celia just as she spotted him and their eyes met, homing in on each other and eliminating everything else that was extraneous, from the milling late-night crowd to the sound of talk and laughter. The expression on her face was open and honest before she had time to think about adjusting it.
She was...hurt.
‘Excuse me, Leila, I really have to go—’
‘So soon, Leandro? Come join us for dinner!’
Leandro smiled but he was already straightening and his eyes were still on Celia. ‘I feel my age enough as it is chatting to you, Leila. Ten minutes surrounded by your peers and the hair on my head will start going grey!’
He detached himself, headed towards the exit to where Celia hadn’t moved although her expression had smoothed over, was now polite and distant.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked. He ushered her away from the cafe, back into the lobby and towards the bank of lifts, still holding the juice in one hand.
He didn’t do hurt from women when it came to his personal life. He never had. He had never welcomed the sensation of being penned in or the irritating feeling that he should be justifying himself in any way. As far as Leandro was concerned, there was a thin line between questioning his motives and nagging him into toeing a line he had never had any intention of toeing.
The claustrophobia of Celia’s jealousy, because jealousy was surely what he had glimpsed, fleeting but all too apparent, was not welcome.
He didn’t expect or court jealousy in women. He didn’t like it because...of what it said. Celia was jealous because she cared. The thought of that was ice in his veins. With the force of muscle memory ingrained for more years than he cared to remember, Leandro’s aversion to the swirl of that forbidden emotion rammed into him with the force of a sledgehammer. He wasn’t built to return emotion, to return love. It just wasn’t in his DNA and the need to repel was as instinctive as drawing breath.
She was walking alongside him, head held high, explaining that having a shower had woken her up and she’d decided to come down and perhaps have her drink in the cafe rather than wait for him to bring it up to her. Her voice was light enough as she repeated the mantra about not wanting to be treated like a china doll just because she was expecting.
But she wasn’t looking at him and he wanted her to.
‘I expect,’ he cut through the chatter just as the lift doors opened to their floor, ‘that you’re going to ask me who I was talking to...’ He could feel himself shutting down inside, sealing himself off because that was just what he was programmed to do. What was wrong with that? What was wrong with self-protection? He’d built his life around it.
Celia looked at him for the first time since he had joined her where she’d been frozen to the spot in the cafe. She had to school her features into a mask of smooth, casual indifference. She was hurting inside so much that it felt as though a knife were twisting inside her, but this was what she had signed up to and she would find a way of dealing with it.
‘No,’ she said tonelessly. ‘I wasn’t. You’re not a prisoner, Leandro, and, as you’ve said too many times to count, this is a marriage of convenience. We both know why we’re doing what we’re doing but I suppose it does bring me back to what I was trying to say to you earlier...’
‘Which is what?’
‘What happens when the lust dies? Do you start looking elsewhere?’ She paused and then said, sotto voce, ‘Or do I? We never quite addressed that, Leandro, and yes, it might be good to live in the moment and cross bridges when we get to them but maybe we’re being naïve. Maybe we need to deal with what happens...’