The Sultan's Virgin Bride: A story of lust, loyalty and passionate resentment. (21 page)

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The eggs were sticking. She was distracted. She swore under her breath and lifted the spatula to gently flip them over on themselves. A slight brown patch, but otherwise, they were unharmed.

“I can do this, y’know,” Annie said over her shoulder.

Maggie shook her head. “It’s fine.” She needed the distraction. Desperately.

“The buffet’s almost set then. Ham’s out, fruit’s out, pastries are out. Just need the eggs and sausages.”

“Okay, two more minutes,” Maggie said with a nod, wishing that she and Rosie hadn’t sold The Darling Buds of May Café. She missed cooking every day. It was such an organic way to keep herself busy.

She turned the eggs once more, this time before they caught the bottom of the pan, and then slid them into one of the waiting stainless steel trays. “Eggs can go,” she said quietly to one of the teenagers who’d been roped into acting as a waiter for the weekend. She turned her attention to the sausages. Though she was vegan, she insisted on the best quality. These pork Cumberland pieces were free range and reared in accordance with organic standards, and she’d heard them described as the best sausages anyone had eaten before.

One by one, she lifted them onto the platter and then nodded at the other teenager.

“You’re not going out?” Annie asked after a moment.

“No.” She arranged her features into an imitation of a smile. “I had my fill of family time last night.”

“I see.” Annie moved across the kitchen with the usual alacrity she employed. “Then you’ll have a coffee with me.”

“Yes,” Maggie practically leaped in the air with joy at the prospect. “Coffee is what I need.”

Her hair was bundled on top of her head in a voluminous, messy bun, but a tendril escaped as she drank the black life-giving force. She pinned the rogue strand back under the elastic and tried to focus on what Annie was saying.

But her mind kept wandering. Torturous flashbacks of the night before permeated her mind, making breathing difficult.

She had dated a lot of men, but slept with considerably less. She always looked for partners who were respectful and kind. Dante Velasco was neither of those things. He was harsh and angry and hurtful and resentful. He treated her like something distasteful that he just happened to find attractive. And yet she wanted him with an actual mind-bending need.

It was hours before the breakfast was over, but Maggie stayed resolutely absent. She told herself it was because there was work to do in the kitchen. Things to prep for that night’s feast; cleaning to be done.

But it all boiled down to the desire to avoid one man, and one man only.

And yet, as she dressed for the formal ball much later that day, she couldn’t help but feel hurt that he hadn’t sought her out. She’d spent the afternoon reading in the library, but he could have found her easily enough. If he’d wanted to. He hadn’t.

What had she expected? A declaration of love? A desire to get to know her beyond the bedroom? Two years ago, she’d had the most incredible night of her life, and she’d run from it. From the possibility that if she stayed, he’d ask her to leave. In a sexless life as a single mum, this weekend was at least a relief to her deprived libido.

She just had to remember that the only thing Dante Velasco was putting on the table was incredibly passionate, mind-blowing sex. She mentally repeated the words he’d said, two years earlier. Words she’d clung to in order to justify her decision:
I am my own person. I do not want to compromise that with commitments – to a family. That is not my way.

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Happy reading! CC.x