Beauty and the Sheikh(2)

But then, this wouldn’t be the first time she’d rejected him. The memory of the day they’d parted raised his fury.

If she’d come to apologize, then it was too late.

Holly’s decision to return to Raljahar was a foolish one, and he’d make sure she soon realized it.



Why had she come?

Opening her mouth to try to reply again, Holly couldn’t for the life of her make the words come out. She’d been asking herself the same thing for the last twenty-four hours.

Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be safe and cozy in her small home in Portland right now. Four days ago her biggest worry had been making sure her cat didn’t have bladder stones again, and figuring out how she would afford her books for the college courses she’d just enrolled in.

Amazing how your priorities could flip on a dime. This wasn’t about her anymore, and she needed to remember that. But seeing the antagonism flicker in the Sheikh’s eyes sent goose bumps over her flesh and a knot of dread forming in her stomach.

Had she actually considered the possibility that Rafiq wouldn’t remember her?

Real smart there, Holly. Would you like a side of delusional with that?

When her veil had been removed, the recognition had flared immediately in his eyes. At first she’d thought he’d been happy to see her, but then his gaze had slowly changed, until it burned with a loathing so intense she’d recoiled instinctively.

Sheikh Rafiq bin Hakimi al-Raljahar was far too shrewd to forget a face, especially with hers plastered in magazines and on the television up until two years ago. Or maybe he’d never forgotten their time together, though that was probably wishful thinking on her part.

Then again, she’d never forgotten Rafiq either. He was still as tall, dark, and imposing as she remembered him to be and, heaven help her, as impossibly handsome. She hated that her body immediately responded to his presence, that her blood heated and quickened and her knees turned ridiculously weak.

It had been one week of her life, one week where she’d ridden an emotional roller coaster, but still, he should not be able to affect her this way. No matter that he carried the title of Sheikh—Rafiq was still just a flesh and blood man.

His eyes, a rich coffee brown she’d always found so captivating, flickered with censure, fury, and something else. Something almost heated, but she knew that couldn’t be right.

She dropped her gaze to try to compose herself, finding it easier to stare at the intricate mosaic pattern on the marble floor than to meet Rafiq’s condemning stare.

She was insane. Absolutely insane to be here, and if she’d had any other choice she wouldn’t have come. So now, here she stood in an opulent, massive palace of blue and gold hues, of abundant wealth she might’ve once been comfortable around, but no more.

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten the question already, Miss Winchester? Why are you here?”

How quickly he dropped the casualness of calling her Holly. Even still, her name on his lips sounded so foreign, almost exotic with his accent. Her stomach fluttered again and she bit her lip trying to quell it.

Remember why you’re here.

Holly cleared her throat and lifted her chin. “Rafiq, I’ve come to—”

The guard behind her made a roar of anger, and gripped her shoulder almost painfully. “You will address the Sheikh as Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty,” she choked out, trying to pull away from the brute of a bodyguard’s grip. She’d forgotten about their presence entirely.

Rafiq snarled something harsh at the guard, and Holly found herself abruptly released. She stumbled forward, nearly toppling into him. Her relief was short lived as Rafiq’s fingers—though much gentler than the guard’s—curled around her shoulders. A shock of energy seemed to pass from his fingers into her body, and a gasp of surprise fluttered past her lips as her pulse quickened.

Almost two years later, and still his touch could do this to her? Impossible. It had to be the fear, or the adrenaline.

She lifted her head once more, and their gazes locked. Had he sensed it too? Some of the shock she felt was mirrored in his eyes, but his mingled with irritation. Holly couldn’t have looked away from him if she tried.

He spoke harshly again to his bodyguards, to which they stammered replies. And then the rushing of footsteps sounded, followed by the door closing.

The realization they were alone sent a frisson of panic through her. Alone with the Sheikh.

“What did you say to them?” She hated that her question came out husky and far too vulnerable.

“I asked if they’d searched you for weapons.” A semblance of a smile flickered on his lips, but it held no humor. “Beneath your burka, there is ample…space for you to hide a weapon.”

It was clear he’d been tempted to say something different after ample. The possibility, combined with the memory of the guards’ search, sent hot color searing her cheeks. “You know they did. It was barbaric, the way—”

“More barbaric than you forcing your way into my palace, habiba?” His tone cooled.

Don’t even focus on the endearment he called you, it means nothing.

“It wasn’t my intention to break in, and I tried by normal means to get access. It’s vitally important that I see you—”

“Why? Have you returned with another request to strut around my desert in a bikini for a photo shoot?”

Furious heat slammed into her cheeks at his cool, derisive words. What a jerk. He’d always been on the cocky side, though. How had she ever found him charming? All too easily, if you recall.

Holly drew in a deliberate breath in an effort to control her emotions. “I’m no longer modeling.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze again, then wished she hadn’t as she stared into his emotionless eyes.

“Yes,” he murmured, “I’m well aware your modeling days are through.”

Of course he was. He must’ve known that the day he’d sent her away, everything changed and the tabloids had used her as fodder for months—it was one of the reasons she’d ultimately left the industry a year later.

Holly swallowed against the knot in her throat, but she knew she didn’t mourn the loss of her career so much as the way things had ended between her and Rafiq. “Why did you have to pull off my veil?”

God, had she actually muttered the words aloud? Holly bit back a groan as his lips twitched.

But they were the truth. Rafiq would’ve never known it was her if he hadn’t removed the veil. Prior to flying out from Portland, she’d purchased the attire for that reason alone—she’d hoped to remain an unknown face and voice.

Again, someone really ought to give her the prize for being the most naïve.

“Holly, I’m afraid your attempts at blending in were quite deficient.” Amusement laced his tone. “Had you paid more attention the last time you were here, you would’ve realized most of the women in Raljahar no longer favor the burka as a means of dress. A long shirt and skirt would’ve been less suspect.”

He was right—of course she could see that in hindsight.

“I wasn’t sure what would be acceptable to wear,” she admitted grudgingly, “and I didn’t want to offend anyone by arriving in jeans and a tank top.”

Something hot and dark flickered in his gaze as his fingers traced lightly over the flesh of her shoulders.

Holly’s pulse fluttered. Why didn’t he remove his hands from her? They unbalanced her, made her hyperaware of the power this man held. He had the ability to crush someone, probably physically as well as figuratively. His words, as well, could crush. She’d had firsthand experience of the fact.

“I wonder if it was your purpose to not offend, Holly, or simply a tactic to disguise your identity.”

Her cheeks warmed with guilt. “Why would I disguise myself from you?”

“Perhaps you should tell me.”

His silky words sent another hot shiver through her and she swallowed hard. She’d promised herself that this time she wouldn’t let him affect her and this time there would be no weak knees, butterflies in the stomach, or a racing pulse.

But her attempts at emotionally bracing herself against seeing Rafiq again had been ridiculously inept, because she was just as susceptible to him today as she’d been two years ago.

Unwittingly she flashed back to her first trip to Raljahar and when she’d first realized how quickly she was falling for the Sheikh. He’d charmed her. Oh, God, how he’d charmed her. That first day they’d talked for hours over a long, wonderfully decadent lunch. He’d made her laugh and turned her stomach into a playground for butterflies.

And then he’d kissed her on the tour of the palace, in his room, and she’d melted. Her entire body had awakened to a sensuality and need she’d never experienced or explored.

Soon, the light flirting and long glances escalated into deep kisses and passionate embraces in the shadows. And then, dinner in the exclusive restaurant in his casino…