Olivia Gates - Sheikh's Dark Seduction - Seduced by the Sultan

For a moment, she thought she might have misheard him. She looked at him in confusion. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Nothing needs to change. I can live the life expected of me in Qurhah and still have you here. We could make this work. I know we could.’

She stared at him. ‘As your mistress, you mean?’

‘Why not?’ His voice sounded almost...gentle. ‘Men in my position often do—and didn’t you tell me right from the start that you weren’t interested in a conventional relationship.’

For a moment Catrin felt sick. Yes, she had said that—but never had she guessed that one day it might be used against her as an over-sexed man’s selfish form of barter. On shaky legs she walked over to the window and opened it, but the warm evening air brought her little relief. She could feel beads of sweat pinpricking her brow as she stared at the darkened park and the lump in her throat made it seem as if some invisible hand were trying to throttle her.

So this was what happened when you made no demands of a man. When you acted like some kind of human cushion. What else could she expect in return, other than he would expect to walk all over her?

Had he stopped to think that such a suggestion might insult as well as hurt her? No, of course he hadn’t. He was thinking about what he wanted—and clearly he had no desire to give her up.

But when she stopped to think about it—why wouldn’t he offer her something like that, when she was prepared to accept so little from him? Why, in loving Murat she had become a woman she barely recognised.

She had given him the sanctuary he’d always craved—peace and respite from his busy life in Qurhah. She had welcomed him into her arms whenever he was here. From the moment he set foot inside the penthouse apartment she was his unconditionally. Up until this moment she’d never bothered him with awkward questions. She had demanded nothing of him. Even the gifts he had showered on her, she had accepted only because it seemed to please him. But she had never been in this for the diamonds or the couture clothes. She had enjoyed living with him and hadn’t wanted to rock the boat, and in the process had allowed herself to become like some kind of human sponge.

What had happened to the real Catrin? That strong person who had spent her formative years battling to prevent her little sister from being taken into care? The person who’d shopped for food on her way home from school and watched like a hawk while Rachel pored over her books? She might not have passed many exams herself, but she had plenty of Welsh grit inside her. And maybe now was the time to rediscover some of that grit. To show him that she wouldn’t be walked all over.

She turned to face him, filled now with a curious sense of calm.

‘It may be culturally acceptable for the Sultan to keep a mistress once he’s married. For all I know, it might be the norm to keep multiple mistresses in these circumstances. I don’t imagine that a man of your stamina would find it difficult to accommodate more than one woman. But you’ll forgive me if I pass on your tempting offer.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you being sarcastic?’

‘Because you’re offering me a bit part in your life? Expecting me to provide smiling sex while you take another woman as your bride? Perish the thought that I should resort to something like that!’ She flashed him a sarcastic smile. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pack.’

‘To pack?’ he echoed blankly.

Her pretend smile slipped. Why the hell was she pretending anyway?

‘Yes, to pack,’ she said. ‘You may be a sultan, but at the moment you’re sounding like a spoiled little boy who wants to have his cake and eat it. If you seriously think I’m sharing you with another woman...if you really think I would continue to be your mistress if you married someone else, then I suggest you make an appointment with a psychiatrist at the earliest opportunity.’

She turned and marched out towards the bedroom, clicking on lights as she walked, so that the vast apartment became illuminated with soft pools of golden light. But she was aware that Murat was following her. She could sense his presence behind her, dominating the space around him just as it always did. His words halted her before she’d even had a chance to remember exactly where she’d put the small suitcase, which was the only thing she’d brought with her from Wales.

‘I don’t want you to go,’ he said.

‘I’ll bet you don’t.’

‘You aren’t facing facts, Cat,’ he said. ‘I don’t have a bride. There is no one I’m intending to marry.’

She turned round, surprised by the look of tension which had tightened his features. ‘Not yet.’

‘Not yet,’ he agreed and his voice hardened as he looked at her. ‘And certainly not this weekend.’

‘What the hell does that mean?’

‘That nothing has really changed. We’re talking about the hypothetical. About something which may or may not happen. I don’t want you to leave. But. more importantly, I don’t want you to leave like this. In anger. In the darkness of the night with no real place to go.’ His black gaze burned into her. ‘Isn’t what we’ve shared worth more than that?’

She shook her head. ‘There is no alternative.’

‘Oh, but there is. If I have to lose you, then can’t we at least do it in the spirit of all that has gone before? In passion.’ He swallowed and, unexpectedly, the words seemed to burst from him, like a tide. ‘The greatest passion I have ever known.’

‘No,’ she said, trying to ignore the look in his dark eyes. Trying not to be influenced by the caress of his words or the hateful prickle of her body. ‘Definitely not.’

‘Why not?’

For a moment, she didn’t answer. How could she? It was hard to think about anything other than her own stupidity right then. She felt as if a veil had been lifted and suddenly she saw her life with disturbing clarity.

She realised she hadn’t been as ‘modern’ as she’d thought. She hadn’t just been the Sultan’s ideal mistress because, all the time, it seemed she’d secretly been nurturing impossible dreams about him. Her foolish heart had been captured a man who had promised her nothing. She had fallen in love with someone who had always been off-limits. And if she was feeling pain now, then surely she should blame herself, not Murat.

‘Why not?’ he persisted. ‘Can’t we just have one last weekend together? Two days to say goodbye to each other...properly? Don’t we owe each other that much, Cat?’

She looked at him. At the lips she had kissed a thousand times and the eyes which were blazing with dark fire. Her heart missed a beat. Never again would she see that face alive with passion. Nor feel the warmth of his embrace as he bent his head to kiss her.

Pain flooded through her as she considered her options. She could pack her bag and take a cab to some nearby hotel. Bury her head on some alien pillow and sob her heart out. And then pick herself up and start a new life without him.

But deep down she had no appetite for such drama. Her childhood had been characterised by the slamming of doors and the echo of retreating footsteps, and she had grown to hate such excesses of emotion. She heard one of the clocks chiming out midnight and she thought maybe Murat was right. Maybe ending it like this was all wrong. Shouldn’t the closing stages of their affair be conducted with the same clinical detachment which had always defined it—couldn’t they end it with some degree of civility?

He didn’t know she had fallen in love with him and if she flounced out at this time of night, wouldn’t that only make it obvious? And that was how Murat would remember her. As sad Cat. Heartbroken Cat. As the woman who had laid her feelings on the line, even though she’d known it was hopeless.