Not a forever thing… Her sister’s comment kept jangling in her mind. Having said good-night to Hannah and Malcolm and their beautiful little daughters, Emily walked slowly along the path to her own accommodation, reflecting on how she had believed her marriage to Brian was to be forever. The words—Till death do us part—in the marriage service had meant fifty or sixty years down the track, not a fleeting few.
It was impossible to know what the future held. Life happened. Death happened. It seemed to her there were so many random factors involved, it was probably foolish to count on anything staying in place for long. With today’s technology, the world had become smaller, its pace much faster, its boundaries less formidable. Even culture gaps were not as wide. Or maybe she just wanted to believe that because the thought of being separated from Zageo hurt.
She wanted more of him.
A lot more.
On every level.
Having arrived on the porch outside the doors to both Zageo’s suite and hers, she decided to knock on his, hoping to have some direct communication with him about today’s events. Disappointment dragged at her heart when there was no response.
She tried arguing to herself that he had come into her suite last night and would come again if he wanted to. There was no point in chasing after him. It hadn’t worked for Veronique and Emily had no doubt it wouldn’t work for her, either. When Zageo decided it was time up on a relationship, that was it.
Tomorrow his private jet was to fly Hannah and Malcolm and the girls to Johannesburg, from where they would catch a commercial flight to Australia. For all Emily knew, she might be expected to go with them. With the depressing thought that this could be her last night anywhere near Zageo, she turned to her own door, unlocked it and entered the suite which she knew was bound to feel even more lonely tonight…unless he came.
He didn’t come.
He was already there.
As Emily stepped past the small foyer and into the bed-sitting room, Zageo entered it from the balcony where she had sat watching last night’s special dinner. She wanted to run to him, fling her arms around his neck and plaster his face with wildly grateful kisses for his extraordinary kindnesses to her family. It would have been the natural thing to do if everything had been natural between them. But it wasn’t. Because of the trade she had initiated. So she stood with her feet rooted to the floor, waiting to hear her fate from him.
He didn’t move towards her, either, standing stiffly proud and tall just inside the room, his brilliant dark eyes watching her with an intensity that played havoc with every nerve in her body. If he still felt desire for her, it was comprehensively guarded.
‘Is all well with your sister and her family?’ he asked, his tone coolly polite.
‘Thanks to you, Zageo, as well as it can be, given such a traumatic upheaval to their lives,’ she answered quietly.
‘In the end there was no choice but to accept the upheaval,’ he stated unequivocally. ‘Your brother-in-law was a marked man, Emily.’
‘Yes. So I understand. And while I will be eternally grateful you did go in and get them out, when I made the…the deal…with you, I didn’t expect you to endanger your own life, Zageo. I thought—’ she gestured a sense of helplessness over his decision to act himself ‘—I thought something more impersonal would be worked.’
His eyes blazed a fierce challenge. ‘Was it impersonal…your joining your body to mine?’
‘No! I…’
‘Then why would you expect me to do less than you?’
‘I didn’t mean…’ She stopped, took a deep breath, and desperately not wanting to argue with him, simply said, ‘I was frightened for you.’
His head tilted to one side consideringly. ‘You cared for my safety?’
‘Of course I did!’
‘As, no doubt you would for anyone in danger,’ he concluded dismissively.
It wiped out what she’d been trying to get across to him. How could she build bridges if Zageo was intent on smashing them? Before she could come up with some winning approach he spoke with a chilling finality.
‘Nevertheless, all is well that ends well. You no longer have anything to fear, Emily.’
Except losing him from her life.
He gestured towards the writing desk. ‘There is your passport. Now that our trade is complete, you are free to go wherever you like. Perhaps to Johannesburg with your sister tomorrow.’
Her inner anguish spilled out, needing to hear the truth from him. ‘You don’t want me with you anymore?’
A blaze of anger answered her. ‘Do not turn this onto me. You have said over and over again I give you no choice.’ He flung out an arm as though releasing her from all bondage to him. ‘Go where you will. I free you of any sense of obligation to me.’
She lifted her own arms in an impassioned plea. ‘I want to go with you, Zageo. Wherever you go.’
He gave her a savage look. ‘For as long as it suits you, Emily? To see more of Africa and do it in the style I can provide?’
‘I wouldn’t care if we were doing it on a shoestring budget. I want more of you, Zageo,’ she cried recklessly.
‘Ah! So it is the sex you want more of,’ he mocked. ‘The pleasures of the flesh are enticing, are they not?’
‘Yes,’ she flung back at him, seizing on his mocking statement to fight his stand-off position. ‘That was what enticed you into keeping hold of me in the first place, and it didn’t seem to me you were tired of what I could provide for you last night.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Most men facing possible death would want to have sex beforehand.’
She burned, hating the humiliating minimalisation of what they’d shared. ‘You were just using me? Is that what you’re saying, Zageo?’
‘You do not care to be used, Emily?’
The message was scorchingly clear.
He’d hated being used by her.
The heat in her cheeks was painful, but she would not drop her gaze from his, determined on resolving the issues between them. ‘I’m sorry. Mr Haji told me this morning you had intended to help with Hannah’s situation anyway. Believe me, I already feel wretched over misjudging the kind of person you are. My only excuse is…I thought the way you dealt with Veronique meant dealing with me in the same way would not be unusual for you.’
He gave a derisive snort. ‘I knew what I was buying into with Veronique. You, my dear Emily, did not fit any mould I was familiar with.’