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she couldn’t afford it. Hmm. Fly to Sharm el-Sheikh or stay in the wintry paradise of the tiger-man? Easy. Option A would involve parental pressure. Option B meant endless orgasms and great food. And a little adoration. Good attention. The type she’d been seriously lacking for years. She deserved a little good attention. She was awesome.
    Dressing in an owl-print jumper and a woollen skirt that was a little on the tight side, she pulled her bag together with her still-damp phone that didn’t work so well anymore. At least she had her contacts. Calling her mother at some point would be a necessity. Would Roshan let her out of his bed long enough to get a charger? Probably not. She threw one into her bag and finished her make up with a little kohl on her eyeline, accentuating the feline shape before she tugged on her over-the-knee suede boots. It occurred to Neiri that she had no idea where they were going to obtain all these hidden treasures that would see them hibernating through the bank holiday. Wherever they went, she really hoped she could buy Roshan an appropriate thank you gift. As good as he was in the bedroom department, a little extra wouldn’t go amiss.

Chapter Seven
     
     
    Neiri had no idea what Roshan bought at the Burlington Arcade. She’d been told to stay in the chauffeur driven car and he’d disappeared. After ten minutes, he returned with a glossy bag with the name Dairaku embossed on both sides. “What’s…?”
    He tapped her on the nose. “No. Now. For food.”
    Leaving the bag to one side, he caught her hand and pulled her out of the car for them to walk to Fortnum and Mason. Behind them, four sleek men followed and as soon as they entered the store, they collected baskets and began filling them once Roshan made his elegant requests in Farsi. Neiri’s word was law. If she asked for something, four packets, tins, jars were placed inside. They were separated into various pastel green bags and carried out to the car for them. The car then took off to Selfridges where the same thing happened, much to Neiri’s confusion. “Extravagant Arab,” she murmured.
    Roshan grinned. “I want your first stress-free Christmas to be spectacular.”
    “Thank you,” she muttered, emotion hitching her voice. She cleared her throat. “You may want to get my Christmas tree in your palace, then.”
    He kissed her temple and said to the four horsemen of the food pilgrimage, “One to the Royal Marsden and one to Great Ormond Street. The rest to the nearest Salvation Army.” Huge, overflowing trolleys were wheeled out of her sight as Roshan tapped in his PIN. Charity hadn’t crossed her mind once. She’d been wrapped up in her own misery and, for the majority of the last twenty-four hours, what Roshan Ahsani looked like without clothes on.
    He looked up from the bill and smiled at her expression. “Don’t worry. It’s from both of us,” he assured her, tucking his credit card away. Wrapping a hefty arm around her shoulders, he continued. “You’ve been very nice to me, so I can afford to be generous.”
    “Do you ever turn off the flatter button?” she asked, in all seriousness.
    “When my head’s between your thighs. I believe then my mouth is too full.” She lifted his arm from her shoulders and walked in the opposite direction. Nope. Not dealing with the weird looks from shoppers with inhuman hearing.
    “What did I say?” he teased, catching up with her and resting his arm back around her shoulders.
    “I’m not getting you a present now.”
    She glared at him, ignoring the confused look on his face. “You don’t need to buy me anything.”
    “Maybe if I buy you something, I won’t be obliged to have my mouth full.”
    “Oh, Neiri,” he whispered, his warm palm drifting over the back of her neck. She shuddered when the rough skin traced over the marks he’d left there with his teeth. “I didn’t see any duty or obligation in your eyes when you elected, without any prompt from me,