stretching in front of her. But sheâd told Taj the truth. Sheâd traded all that for self-respect. For a chance to control her own life and find out what she could be other than a pawn.
A hard knock vibrated the door behind her and she turned sharply, her hand over her mouth. Heâd followed her. She shouldnât be surprised.
The worst thing was, she wanted to open the door. Her hand was already on the knob. Just like three years ago, what she truly wanted, was to be with him.
But then, she hadnât wanted marriage without love. And Taj hadnât loved her. Heâd wanted to acquire her, along with a significant merger with her fatherâs oil company.
Of course, she hadnât known that. Sheâd thought the young, Arabic leader had been smitten with her. That heâd looked at her and seen something special. That heâd been as crazy about her as sheâd been about him. Sheâd been so young then. So naive. Love had seemed an easy, wondrous find. It had seemed the be-all and end-all.
Sheâd learned since that that wasnât true.
If love was so powerful, so important, then the moment her love for Taj had died, all of her thoughts of him would have dissolved and blown away like desert sand. They hadnât. He still plagued her sleep. He was still the man her body desired.
The absence of love hadnât changed that. It was a sobering realization, just how much Taj still mattered. How much power he still possessed. That he could make her run. She gritted her teeth. No. She didnât run. At least, she wouldnât run now. Wouldnât give him that satisfaction, that level of importance.
She took a breath and her hand turned the door handle before sheâd fully processed the action, and she found herself staring into Tajâs obsidian eyes.
âDonât run from me again,â he bit out.
âAgain? Donât flatter yourself. I was never running from you. I was running to independence. Iâm not a frightened child. I donât run from things.â She crossed her arms beneath her chest.
âLiar. In the hall just now, you were very much running from me. From the attraction that still exists between us.â
âAttraction? Have you been drinking tonight?â
âI donât drink. You know that. And yes, attraction. It has always been there, or have you forgotten the night we spent in your fatherâs barn?â
âYou make it sound like weâ¦â His gaze dropped to her lips. âWe kissed. Thatâs all.â And theyâd cuddled up together, looking at the night sky through a hole in the roof, her hand on his chest, her mouth spilling out all of her stupid dreams for the future. Dreams sheâd believed heâd shared in. But while sheâd been counting stars, heâd been counting money. The money he would make when he married her.
âThere are simple kisses, Angelina, and then there are the kinds of kisses we shared that night. And they are not the same thing.â
No, they werenât. But the only reason theyâd been different was because sheâd been barely twenty and had fancied herself in love. Theyâd felt new and precious, and more exciting than anything else ever had.
âWe just kissed, Taj.â
âAnd if we kissed again? You think you would feelâ¦?â
âNothing,â she whispered. âI would feel nothing.â
He leaned in and her breath caught. She didnât back away from him. She couldnât. âIs that so? You have not thought of me since you left? Not once?â
Always. âNo.â
âYou lie again,â he said, his voice rough, his eyes glittering in challenge.
If he was trying to intimidate her, it wouldnât work. Her eyes were open now, to the world, to the people around her. People sheâd thought loved her.
She was not a child anymore. And she would not act like one. Wouldnât allow him to walk into her
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