A Whisper of Disgrace

chapter FOUR


ROSA HAD BEEN crossing the room towards the bathroom when the sudden rap on the door halted her in her tracks. She could feel a sudden clamminess on her forehead and her heart began to pound with something which felt very much like fear. Who on earth was that knocking at this time of night? She wasn’t expecting any visitors and this wasn’t the kind of hotel which offered room service. More importantly, nobody knew she was here.

Or at least, only one person did and she doubted she’d ever see him again.

But her heart began to race as a series of ghastly possibilities began to crowd into her mind. What if Kulal wasn’t the only person who knew of her whereabouts? What if her brothers who she must now refer to as her half-brothers had discovered she was here? They might have been horrified to find out that she didn’t share their father—and that their mother had brought shame and disgrace to the family with her behaviour. Their eyes may have deadened with anger on discovering that she was not their true blood sister, but surely twenty-three years of guarding her as fiercely as a lion might guard its cubs could not be forgotten overnight?

Mightn’t they have decided to bring her back to Sicily themselves? Wasn’t that the gist behind the text which she’d received? The one which had simply said, Come home, Rosa.

She had ignored the text, just as she had ignored the one which had followed shortly after. In fact, she’d hurled the phone at the wall so that it had fallen in shattered and useless pieces on the carpet. But she planned to get herself a new, cheap one tomorrow morning and then none of the Correttis would have her new number. Which meant that none of them would be able to contact her.

And in the meantime, why was someone still knocking on her door like that?

She stayed rooted to the spot, praying that it was a case of mistaken identity. A drunken reveller, perhaps—for there were enough of them in this part of the South of France. She felt her skin redden. Because hadn’t she been one of those drunken revellers herself the other night, when she’d made such an awful fool of herself in front of that arrogant man, Kulal? It was ironic, really. She’d grown up surrounded by arrogant men and seen the heartbreak they could wreak on women, so why hadn’t she chosen someone softer and easier as the man she had decided she wanted to take her virginity?

Briefly she shut her eyes because the most humiliating thing of all was that he hadn’t wanted her. He’d put her to bed after too much champagne and the disdain on his face the following morning had been clear. It was only when she’d practically thrown herself at him that he had deigned to kiss her. She wondered if they would have gone all the way had the kiss not been interrupted by that other man, the one who’d started talking about a king.

She still couldn’t quite believe the words he’d uttered. Something about the king ‘craving his company.’ Did people really talk like that any more? Perhaps they were some kind of double act who trawled holiday areas pretending to be people they weren’t. Operating some kind of cheap scam.

‘I know you’re in there.’

The terse words carried through the closed door and put a swift halt to Rosa’s swirling thoughts. Because that deep voice with the strange accent was horribly familiar and she was unprepared for the wave of desire which made her skin grow heated. A curling expectation began to unfold somewhere deep inside her and it wasn’t a feeling she particularly welcomed. She thought of his cruel face and hard body and her heart began to pound. What was the matter with her? He was probably nothing but a weird imposter—some fake sheikh—and she didn’t have to answer the door to him.

Oh, why hadn’t she turned the lights off?

Because you weren’t expecting a late-night visitor, that’s why.

‘You can try ignoring me if you want, Rosa, but I’m not going anywhere,’ persisted the voice. ‘And if you stretch my patience too far, then I may be forced to break down this door.’

What a caveman he was! Rosa racked her brain for some kind of response and decided to attempt an audacious piece of bravado. ‘And what if I’m not alone?’ she demanded. ‘Don’t you think you might be disturbing something—that I might want a little privacy?’

From the other side of the door, Kulal gritted his teeth as a slow rage began to build inside him. Bad enough that he was being forced to enter a union with this tramp of a woman, but that she should dare to keep him waiting was intolerable!

‘Then I’d advise you to tell your paramour to get dressed and to get dressed quickly, since he might not enjoy facing me in my current mood.’

Rosa shivered at the forceful intent behind his words. She should have been shocked by his arrogance, but she was Sicilian and therefore she wasn’t a bit shocked. She was used to outrageously chauvinist behaviour within the Corretti clan itself, but this man was making the male members of her own overbearing family seem like absolute p-ssycats.

Reluctantly, she unlocked the key and opened the door, her senses assailed by the overpowering scent of jasmine from the darkened gardens as she stared at the man who was standing on her doorstep.

He was exactly as she remembered him. No, that wasn’t quite true. She’d spent the past two days trying to play him down in her imagination, telling herself that it had been her highly emotional state which had made her react to him in such an uncharacteristic way. Telling herself that he was nothing special, that he was just a man who was aware of his appeal to women and who played on it.

But she had been wrong. More than wrong. Because tonight, his undeniable sexiness was edged with something potent—something which suddenly made her feel innocent and fragile. He looked as if he meant business—and it wasn’t just the way he was dressed, in a dark and sombre suit, which emphasised his powerful physique. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved that day so that his dark jaw was faintly shadowed with stubble. It was a look which was essentially masculine and subtly modern, yet it didn’t match the expression in his black eyes. Because that was the antithesis of modern—it was darkly glittering and almost primitive.

She swallowed. ‘What do you want?’

‘A little courtesy might be a good place to start. I’d like to come in.’

To Rosa’s disbelief he didn’t bother waiting for her assent, just walked straight past her. ‘You can’t just barge in here like that!’ she protested.

‘Too late. I just did. So let’s not waste any more time with futile protestations. Shut the door like a good girl, will you? I want to talk to you.’

Fury came in many forms and the form which was visiting Rosa right then was making her speechless with a growing anger. Like a good girl, he had said—and hadn’t she run away from Sicily to escape precisely that type of patronising attitude? It took a moment or two before she could compose herself enough to suck in a deep breath and manage to turn it into an outraged question.

‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.

‘Are you going to shut the door, or am I?’

She kicked it shut before she could ask herself why she wasn’t calling hotel security—if such a thing existed in this place—to have him ejected. Maybe because there seemed something distinctly unfinished between them—something which still needed to be said. But she wasn’t going to let him think that she was a pushover, even though her heart was now racing for a very different reason. She had behaved like a stupid fool the other night and she didn’t intend to do so again. ‘I didn’t think we had anything left to say to each other, after that man Mutasim bundled me into a taxi the other day.’

He didn’t appear to be listening to her for his eyes were trained on the closed door in the far corner of the room. ‘So is there some thwarted lover in there?’ he questioned softly. ‘Cowering in fear as he puts his clothes back on?’

For a moment Rosa was tempted to say yes, wondering if he would have the bravado to actually go in and confront some fictitious man. But deep down she knew the answer. Of course he would. She could tell from the tension in his powerful body that he was afraid of nothing. Or no one.

But then, neither was she, she reminded herself. Not any more. She’d spent her whole life being bossed around by autocratic men and being reined in by old-fashioned rules, and the new Rosa Corretti had no intention of continuing with that repressive tradition. So this Kulal—whoever he was—had better understand that, before she kicked him out of here for good.

‘No, I haven’t got anyone cowering in the bedroom—not that it’s any of your business if I had,’ she snapped. ‘I was about to go to bed myself when I was rudely interrupted by your unwanted appearance.’

Kulal felt his pulse quicken. So she was alone, was she? Alone and probably as hungry for him as she’d been the other night. And wouldn’t that be the easiest way to get her to agree to his proposition—by getting her horizontal? His lips curved with the hint of an expectant smile. Because a woman would agree to pretty much anything when a man was making love to her.

Now that he was safely in her hotel room, he allowed himself to study her closely—thinking that she looked very different to the sexy strumpet who had writhed around the pole in her tiny crimson dress the other night. Her dark hair was tied over one shoulder in a single plait and she wore a heavy, silken robe, which shimmered to the ground as she moved. A classy kind of garment, he thought approvingly. And even though it covered every inch of her body, the delicate fabric still clung to every delicious curve, reminding him all too vividly of what lay beneath.

‘You are looking very beautiful tonight,’ he murmured.

Rosa stiffened because the calculating look she’d seen hardening his eyes was completely at odds with the silken caress of his voice. And yet stupidly, her body couldn’t seem to stop reacting to him. She wanted him to pull her into his hard body and she wanted him to kiss her again. But he was trouble. She knew that. He might exude an undeniable appeal which was clawing away at something deep inside her, but she sensed an undeniable danger about him.

‘I asked what you were doing here,’ she said quietly. ‘And so far you haven’t come up with a satisfactory answer.’

Kulal frowned. She was certainly behaving very differently this evening. She wasn’t coming on to him at all, or making any indication that she wanted to continue the delicious kiss which had been abruptly terminated by the appearance of his brother’s aide.

‘We need to have a conversation,’ he said.

‘At this time of night?’

He nodded. The concealing cloak of nighttime was infinitely preferable to a meeting conducted in the harsh light of the Mediterranean sunshine. And even though this rather humble hotel was not the kind of place which usually attracted the paparazzi, his striking looks always made him the subject of prying eyes. ‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Then you’d better hurry up and get on with it, Mr …?’

He met the challenge in her voice, thinking how spectacular her eyes were, as they looked at him with impertinent challenge. ‘I think you were made perfectly aware by the interruption which took place yesterday that I am not a “Mr,”’ he said shortly. ‘In fact, I am a prince.’

‘A prince?’ she echoed, like someone waiting for the punchline to a joke.

He nodded. ‘Although I prefer to think of myself as a sheikh first and a prince second. I am Sheikh Kulal Al-Dimashqi, the second son of the royal house of Zahrastan.’ He elevated his dark brows in careless question. ‘But perhaps you have found out a little more about me since we were parted so abruptly. Was your interest not piqued by the stranger you almost had sex with?’ He gave a mocking smile. ‘Especially when you discovered that his brother was a king.’

Rosa glared at him, trying to ignore his crude taunt. ‘If you must know—I thought that you might be involved in some kind of scam.’

‘A scam?’ he echoed.

‘Yes. That man turning up and announcing that the “king” wanted to see you.’ She gave him a scornful look. ‘People pretend to be aristocrats all the time! It helps them get into expensive hotels without paying.’

He gave the room a deprecating glance. ‘Then I don’t imagine they’d be targeting a place like this, do you?’

Rosa didn’t rise to the taunt. Why should she, when it was true? She’d chosen the hotel precisely because it hadn’t been expensive. Because it was the last place on earth that you would ever expect to find a Corretti staying and therefore it was unlikely that any of her family would come looking for her here. But the Hotel Jasmin was exactly what she needed in her troubled state. She liked the peace of the place. The laid-back attitude and the old-fashioned gardens. There were mostly French people staying here and the service was simple and unobtrusive. There were no tourists, no dull international menu or any Wi-Fi connection which might have encouraged people to sit around, tapping away on their computers so that you felt as if you’d walked into a giant office.

‘If you don’t like it, then leave,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m not stopping you.’

Kulal hesitated—and for him, such hesitation was rare. But this conversation was not going according to plan. For a start, she had not fallen on him with lust in her eyes and a body impatient for the pleasure he could give her. He had thought that he would be in her bed by now and yet he was nowhere near it. She seemed completely different to the woman who had begged him to kiss her and he began to wonder why.

‘I know who you are,’ he said suddenly.

Rosa didn’t react. It had been one of the first lessons she had been taught—never show a stranger what you are thinking. She had broken that rule the other night, under the influence of the unaccustomed champagne, but she would not be repeating such a fundamental mistake tonight.

‘And who am I?’ she questioned lightly, thinking that perhaps he could provide a better answer than any she could come up with. Because she didn’t seem to know who she was herself any more.

He sucked in a deep breath. ‘Your name is Rosa Corretti and you are a member of the prestigious Sicilian family of that name.’

Rosa nodded. At least he hadn’t come out with the usual accusatory stereotype, as people usually did. They discovered that you came from a powerful family with a sometimes questionable past, and assumed that you were all gangsters. Hadn’t that been one of the reasons why she’d been so protected during her upbringing—to keep her away from the judgement of the outside world, as well as to protect her innocence?

‘Bravo, Sheikh Kulal Al-Dimashqi,’ she said softly. ‘And what else have you found out about me?’

He stared at her. ‘Nothing,’ he said, his words edged with frustration.

‘Nothing?’

He shook his head. He had some of the best intelligence sources in the world, but when it came to finding out more about the daughter of Carlo Corretti, it seemed that they had come up against a brick wall. There was plenty about her two brothers and a whole bunch of colourful cousins, but Rosa might as well not have existed for all the information they’d been able to provide. ‘Absolutely nothing. Oh, I know which schools you went to and that you studied linguistics at the University of Palermo, but other than that, not a thing. No lists of lovers and no recorded misdemeanours. No earlier experimentations with pole dancing. You come from a society which seems expert in keeping secrets,’ he observed caustically.

Somehow Rosa suppressed a bitter laugh. He didn’t know the half of it. Not just a society which was good at keeping secrets, but a family which was riddled with them. ‘I think I would agree with that,’ she said coolly.

Kulal was starting to feel confused and it was not a feeling he was used to. Because Rosa Corretti was perplexing him. The other night, her sexuality had shimmered off her half-clothed frame like the bright haloes of light which gleamed around the planet Saturn. But tonight, she seemed proud and untouchable. And why was the daughter of such a wealthy dynasty staying in a humble hotel room like this?

‘So what brings you to the French Riviera?’ he questioned.

Rosa wondered what he would say if she told him. How he would react if she explained that her identity crisis was very real and not the characteristic angst of some spoiled little rich girl. And for a second she was tempted to tell him. To unburden herself to someone who didn’t know the Corretti family, and who didn’t particularly care about them. Wouldn’t it be liberating to share her terrible story with someone else and to free herself from the resulting poison which had flooded through her veins?

But old habits died hard and Rosa was too well-taught in the art of keeping secrets to dare divulge the darkest one of all to this man who was dominating the small room. She could tell him something, yes—she just could not tell him everything.

‘I wanted to get away,’ she said, giving a careless shrug of her shoulders as if to add credence to her statement. ‘To escape from home and see a little of the world. Lots of women my age do that. It’s perfectly normal.’

But a trip to see the world did not tend to make a person look so haunted, Kulal thought. His eyes narrowed. ‘So it’s a temporary trip?’

‘I guess.’

‘And when are you planning to go back?’

His question was unexpected and it made her confront what she had been doing her best not to confront. Rosa shuddered. Back to what? To a home she no longer recognised and a family who had changed beyond recognition as the result of a few spilled and deadly words?

‘I’m not,’ she said forcefully. ‘I’m never going back to Sicily!’