Chapter Eight
Liliana was taken to a private terminal and shown to an elegant lounge, where she waited for Salar to return with her passport.
‘Excellent,’ the assistant said once it had been produced. ‘We’ll just sort out the paperwork and then we’ll get you airside.’
‘Airside?’
‘Through customs.’
‘I see.’
She didn’t really.
Salar headed back to Rafiq’s side, and Liliana was handed over to various staff.
The day was a blur of private lounges and being discreetly dealt with both in London and Al-Zahir.
Flying across vast swathes of desert, she had never felt more scared and alone. And so angry, not just with Rafiq, but with herself for sleeping with a man who clearly wasn’t free.
Her first time in a helicopter was alone, and the reddening sky painted the sands pink and then, when they must be deep in the desert, she first glimpsed the compound.
There were several domed tents surrounding a larger central one, and as the chopper drew closer, she saw that a couple seemed linked to the main one.
Liliana could even see horses circling in a large yard, perhaps unnerved by the lights and noise of the chopper, and she looked to the central tent that for now she would call…
Not home.
‘Here.’
An escort gave her a scarf to wear before they came in to land and Liliana soon found out why. It was like opening an oven door as she stepped down from the helicopter. The rotors were blowing up hot sand that stung her bare legs and she was grateful for the scarf shielding her mouth and eyes.
The assistant took her to the entrance and then gave her a nod.
‘Wait…’ Liliana called. She wanted to know how long she would be here for, or when Rafiq would arrive, but the assistant was already making a dash back to the helicopter. But then the entrance to the abode was opened and Liliana was met with a smiling face.
‘Liliana.’ A woman introduced herself as Fatima, and hung up her scarf and pointed to some jewelled slippers for her to change into. ‘You have had such a long journey. Let me show you around…’ She frowned and peered behind where Liliana stood. ‘You have no luggage?’
‘None,’ Liliana said, clutching her shoulder bag, the only things she’d brought with her. ‘I didn’t exactly have time to pack.’
Of course Fatima didn’t understand, nor need her slight sarcasm.
‘I haven’t got anything with me,’ Liliana corrected. ‘It was a bit of a rush.’
‘That’s fine,’ Fatima said and smiled. ‘We have everything you need here. First I will show you around.’
She was led along a corridor of white and brought to the very centre.
‘The main abode,’ Fatima said. It was indeed at the centre, and incredibly quiet. There was a central fire pit with a long flue that led to the ceiling, though the fire wasn’t lit. Around it were cushions and low tables.
‘It will be cool soon,’ Fatima said. ‘I shall light it before I leave.’
‘Leave?’
‘I have quarters nearby. You pull one of the ropes in your sleeping area if you need me. The rest are for the crown prince.’
‘I see.’
‘Crown Prince Rafiq usually calls for breakfast at seven, and he tends to take dinner quite late. We only come when summoned…’
‘We?’ Liliana questioned.
‘There are several staff, mostly for the crown prince, but I am assigned to care for you. If you have any questions, please don’t trouble the other staff with them. I take care of private matters.’
The desert abode was stunning. The floors were covered in gorgeous Persian rugs, and there were also tapestries, softening the dark of the furniture, but nothing could soften her thoughts.
Did Fatima consider her one of the crown prince’s private matters?
Clearly.
Liliana wondered, she truly did, what he had been going to suggest had she not fled after the ball…
She had thought he might ask her to be his London lover.
Now she was wondering if he’d been going to ask her to join his harem.
She felt ill at the thought.
She was shown behind intricate lattice screens to a dining area, and Fatima invited her to take some refreshments before they continued the tour.
‘You have travelled a long way—you look tired.’
There was a plate of fruits which Liliana didn’t want—and little silver bowls piled high with Turkish delight, which Liliana didn’t like and so she declined them, but feeling rude she accepted a drink of cool mint tea.
It was delicious.
Cold, minty and honey sweet, it steadied her enough to be shown to the sleeping area.
It was separate from the living area and darker. Fatima lit oil lamps as she led the way.
There were several small rooms with pretty muslin drapes tied back and they looked like beauty areas; she glimpsed a massage table, a beauty room… Instantly she knew when she came to his, for it was by far the largest and the bed was draped with furs.
There was another fire pit, again unlit.
‘The seraglio is through there…’ Fatima pointed to soft veils that lined one of the tent walls.
‘Seraglio?’
‘A private chamber for women.’
‘Is there another entrance?’
‘Of course.’ Fatima smiled. ‘You don’t disturb him unless summoned.’
He’d damn well better not.
‘Thank you,’ she said through taut lips, and they further tightened as they stepped in the seraglio. In the centre was a bed, dressed in violet silks, but Liliana’s eyes kept flicking to the veils that would separate her from his chamber.
Fatima pulled back the drapes on a stunning wardrobe. There were robes of velvet in every colour, beautiful flowing fabrics, and though Liliana wore only the clothes she’d put on this morning, she vowed there and then she would not be wearing something another of his lovers had worn.
‘Through here…’ Fatima guided. ‘This is the Diwan Al-Zayn—it means Chamber of Adornment.’
Liliana felt her throat constrict, but even if somewhat appalled, she was also fascinated.
It was really rather beautiful, a private, elegant space with mirrors and also what looked like a massage table, and beside it, hammam towels. There was a deep bath that would be drawn for her each evening, Fatima explained.
No doubt, in preparedness for him.
‘I shall serve dinner…’ Fatima started, but again Liliana shook her head.
‘I’m fine, I ate on the plane.’ Her stomach was heaving just looking at the perfumes and jewels she could select from.
‘Then I shall prepare the Diwan Al-Zayn for you…’
No, Liliana was about to say, but then halted. She was not preparing herself for him, but certainly she needed to wash. As well as that her body ached from too many shots of adrenaline, not just from her journey, but from seeing him again…
And yes, she was curious too.
She was given a silk bathing robe, which she accepted and put on, and while the bath was being prepared Liliana stripped off her too tight skirt and rinsed out her bra and knickers in the sink area in her room.
‘Liliana…’
Fatima called her in, and the bath was steamy and the air fragrant with rosewater. There were even petals floating on top of the water.
‘Thank you,’ Liliana said, expecting Fatima to leave, but she didn’t.
‘Please.’ She gestured to the bath. ‘I will start with your hair.’
Oh, she wasn’t to float in the dreamy bath, and let the tension go on her day; there was actually quite a lot to be done before Fatima considered her ready for the prince.
It made her angry, but she wanted the knowledge, wanted to know his lovers’ rituals, and just to know…
First her hair was saturated in a creamy concoction, then wrapped. All too soon she lay on the massage table, salt being rubbed into her skin, and every inch of her tidied…a little like the everything shower she had done in preparation for the ball, only with a lot more components.
Her eyebrows were threaded, her legs, her bikini line too.
And then, with her skin pink and shiny, she sat on a stool as Fatima picked up a large copper jug and the hair mask was rinsed off.
The more polished she got, the angrier she became, because it made the wonderful spontaneous night they had shared impossibly out of reach.
‘There.’ Fatima combed her hair, and then wrapped it gently in a towel. ‘It will be very silky. I make the cream myself.’
‘Do you?’
Liliana liked Fatima, who chatted quietly away, never startling her, but she was also incredibly direct and practical. ‘Now I oil your skin.’
‘I can do that.’
‘Not correctly.’
She should be too upset to relax, but it really was rather blissful, her cares somewhat melted away by Fatima’s skilled hands, and then she was given a sheer muslin nightdress which Fatima told her she had made just this afternoon.
Wrapped in towels, Liliana admired Fatima’s handiwork. It was white, with silk on the hems and delicately hand stitched. ‘It’s very beautiful.’
‘Thank you. Now I suggest that you try and get some sleep,’ Fatima told her. ‘The oils will make you tired… Please call if you need anything.’
And she was left alone.
The next thing she did was go through her bag to get her phone, but first her fingers closed on a paper bag. Taking it out, she realised it was the pregnancy test she had bought just this morning.
Possibly the sensible course of action would be to take the test now. To know what she was dealing with before Rafiq arrived…
But then she thought of that morning, lying in his arms, and Rafiq asking what she would do with her day…
I can’t hide from you.
She couldn’t.
Her feelings, her fears, her emotions all seemed to bubble to the surface when he was close, and she did not know how to meet those silvery eyes and lie…
It was better not to know.
And so, she buried the test at the very bottom of her vast bag and then took out her phone.
Of course there was no signal.
Liliana dressed. The nightgown was long, down past her knees, but its sheerness didn’t allow it to be called modest and it clung a little to her oiled body. Still, it was a relief to be out of that tight skirt and bra, and to have bare feet after a day in ill-fitting wedges.
Her bed was like a cloud, and she lay there, listening to the sounds of wind.
Certain she would never sleep…