Passion. LYNNE GRAHAM

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СКАЧАТЬ die of shame at what’s been going on here, what you’ve been putting up with on their behalf! Silence protects bullies like Scott. Don’t you worry … I’ll sort him out,’ Tilda swore, furious with herself for not even suspecting what had been going on behind all their backs. The divorce had not gotten rid of Scott after all and working for a living had never been his way.

      She was hanging her coat below the stairs when she noticed that the post had arrived. She tensed at the sight of the familiar brown envelope and scooped it up. Yes, just as she had feared it was yet another missive from Rashad’s solicitors. Taking a deep breath, she tore it open. Nervous perspiration broke out on her brow as she realised what the letter was. It was a written notice asking her mother to leave the house within fourteen days. As the rent was in arrears the landlord, it stated, would go to court seeking possession at the end of the month.

      Tilda took the letter upstairs. She just could not face giving it to her mother at that moment. From the window she watched her sisters, seventeen-year-old Katie and nine-year-old Megan, walking up the drive in their school uniforms. James was shambling along in their wake, a tall gangling boy of fourteen, who had still to grow into his very large feet and deep bass voice. Her brother, Aubrey, currently in his fourth year of studying medicine, would be home later. Tilda was deeply attached to all of her siblings. They had gone through so much unhappiness when Scott had been making their lives hell but they had stayed close. They were good kids, hard-working and sensible. What would losing their home mean to them? Everything. It would shatter her family, because Beth’s agoraphobia would ensure that the older woman could not cope. When Beth fell apart at the seams, what then? Aubrey would probably drop out of med school and Katie would find it impossible to study for her A-levels.

      There was only one way out, only one way of protecting her family from the horror of being put out on the street: Rashad.

      Rashad … and sex. It would most probably be a major disappointment to Rashad, whose womanising exploits filled endless pages in the tabloid newspapers, to discover that Tilda did not possess a single special sexy talent to offer in the bedroom. Nothing but ignorance. It would serve him right, Tilda reflected, tight-mouthed. Even so, common sense urged that she would have to ensure that he wrote off all the debts and the house as well before it dawned on him that she really wasn’t worth the sacrifice of that much money. She shuddered, shame enveloping her from head to toe. She would be selling herself like a product in return for cash.

      She reminded herself that if she hadn’t been so fearful of heartache and pregnancy, she would have ended up in bed with Rashad while she had been dating him. But it would have been different back then, because she had truly loved him and had certainly believed that he had more feelings for her than he had finally demonstrated. Would she be able to have sex just for the sake of it? Presumably other women did. There was no point being over-sensitive to the reality that she really had no choice if she wanted to protect the people she loved from having their lives devastated.

      Standing by the window, she called Metropolis Enterprises on her mobile and asked to speak to Rashad. Various very well-trained personnel tried to head her off and make her settle for much smaller fry. She persisted with the reminder that she’d had an appointment with the prince earlier that day and added that he would be very annoyed if he did not receive her personal call.

      Rashad was in a meeting when the message flashed up on his BlackBerry. Tilda. A slow, chilling smile curved his wide, handsome mouth as he took the call in his office. So, the fish was biting. He felt like a shark about to attend a banquet. She was his. Finally his to enjoy. At his leisure in a place of his choosing and for as long as he wanted her. He would make all the rules and she would really, really hate that. His brilliant dark golden eyes gleamed with anticipation. He pictured her greeting him when he returned from a long trip abroad and knew instantly where he would accommodate her. Somewhere where her talent for infidelity could not possibly be exercised. A discreet location where she had nothing to do but devote herself to being his sexual entertainment. He could think of no place more suitable than his late grandfather’s desert palace.

      ‘How may I be of assistance?’ Rashad drawled smoother than the most expensive silk in tone.

      Instantly Tilda wanted to reach down the phone and slap him, for she knew that he knew exactly why she was ringing. She swallowed her pride with difficulty. ‘I’m willing to accept your offer.’

      ‘What offer?’

      Her short upper lip dampened with perspiration. ‘You said it was the only thing I had to offer that you wanted.’

      ‘Your body,’ Rashad filled in gently, savouring every syllable. ‘You. We’ll have to meet to discuss the rules.’

      ‘What rules?’ she protested. ‘I just want to know that that eviction order won’t proceed.’

      ‘Meet me tomorrow afternoon at my town house.’ He quoted the address and a time. ‘We’ll sort out the details of our future association. You’ll be living abroad. I can tell you that now.’

      As Tilda parted her lips to argue with that alarmingly unexpected assurance, Rashad concluded drily, ‘It will be as I say.’

      At that juncture he terminated the call. He would not compromise on any point. The rules would not be negotiable. Everything would be as he wanted it to be. The sooner she learned that and accepted it, the better.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      EVAN JERROLD brought his elegant Jaguar car to a halt in the exclusive London residential square. ‘Good luck,’ he said cheerfully.

      ‘Thank you.’ Tilda opened the passenger door of the luxury vehicle with a sense of relief, since telling lies made her uncomfortable. Evan had offered her a lift when her mother had mentioned that Tilda was heading to London that afternoon. Asked why she was taking time out of work, Tilda had told the first fib that had occurred to her—that she was attending a job interview. It had then occurred to her that the excuse of a new job could well be the perfect cover, if Rashad stuck to his insistence that she travel abroad.

      ‘Now remember I’ll give you an excellent reference. I’ll call back in an hour because you may be finished by then,’ Evan told her.

      Tilda was embarrassed. ‘There’s no need.’

      The older man gave her a wry smile. ‘If I have to drop you home again, it’ll give me another excuse to see your mother. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that her spirits are very low just now.’

      Clambering out of the car, Tilda almost winced at his insight, grateful that her siblings were less perceptive. She mounted the steps to the imposing front door, nerves leaping through her like jumping beans that couldn’t settle.

      ‘Tilda!’ Evan called after her. ‘You forgot your bag.’

      Tilda hurried back down the steps to take it from him, apologising and thanking him in one urgent breath. Admitted to the town house by a manservant, she was shown to a seat in the large stylish hall. She wondered if Rashad’s household staff still routinely greeted his every appearance on bended knee, touching their very brows to the floor in the need to demonstrate respect to the heir to the throne. A couple of minutes later, a bearded older man with greying hair appeared and came to a sudden halt at the sight of her, an expression of surprise skimming his thin intelligent face. With a scrupulously polite dipping of his head in acknowledgement of her presence, he walked past her and went out.

      Tilda was ushered upstairs into a very grand drawing room. She was pleased to note that the manservant bowed rather than knelt. ‘Miss Crawford, Your Royal Highness.’

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