Beauty and the Sheikh(22)

Unfortunately his image was not quite as flattering. The photographer had managed to capture his left side and the sunlight only emphasized the silver in his thick scar. It seemed more sinister. Uglier.

He reached up to trace the groove on his face and sighed.

The headline for the article couldn’t have summed it up more perfectly. Beauty and the Sheikh reunited again.

“Rafiq?”

He turned to where Holly stood outside the bedroom now. How had he not even heard the door open?

Her gaze slid to the paper and her mouth tightened. “It’s complete garbage. I should’ve tossed it. I meant to, but thought you might have requested the paper for a reason.”

“Yes, I did request it. I prefer to stay atop the news and stock market.” His words were murmured almost automatically as his attention faded from the paper. Pure, unfiltered lust seared through him as he allowed his gaze to slide over her.

He struggled with the urge to stride forward and pull the dress from her body.

Holly’s image screamed sensuality. He’d selected the scarlet dress, knowing it would hug her every curve and hide nothing. Cut low in the front and slit high, it would show the world exactly how perfect the woman on his arm was.

It was the sort of dress one would expect the mistress of the infamous Sheikh Rafiq Hakimi to wear. However it was not, he sensed, something Holly was comfortable in. When he’d purchased it, he hadn’t spared a thought to how she would feel in it. What had it mattered? He’d thought her a woman who lived to display herself.

But everything had changed and he knew Holly well enough now to realize she’d not be pleased to wear such a dress.

She must have grown uncomfortable under his scrutiny because she folded her arms across her middle, her gaze flickering with uncertainty. The action only moved to plump up her breasts.

He groaned at the image. His loins stirred against the black trousers of his tux.

“You don’t like the dress, Rafiq?”

“You look stunning, Holly. But I selected the dress—” He hesitated. When I was angry with you. When I wanted to show the world every inch of what was mine. “It is not a question of whether I like it, but whether you do.”

She gave a slight shrug. “It’s a stunning dress. I’m sure you selected it with consideration.”

“Yes, I did, but that was not my question, habiba.”

Holly stared at him for a long pause. Clearly she debated how honest to be. “All right. I admit perhaps it’s not my usual taste, but I don’t mind wearing the dress if it pleases you.”

It wasn’t the dress that pleased him, but the acquiescent words from Holly’s lips. And yet it momentarily threw him. He’d grown accustomed to fighting her over every little thing. Such agreeability didn’t quite fit with the Holly he knew.

“I do like it.” He just wasn’t certain he wanted everyone at the gala to see her in it and for every man to experience the same lust that raced through his blood at this moment.

“Then I’ll wear it. I don’t mind. Really.” She gave what was almost a self-conscious laugh and glanced up at him through her lashes. There was a sparkle in her eyes and a shy smile on her lips. “You look quite handsome yourself in that tuxedo, Rafiq. I should have said so right away.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, but he was distracted.

Something about her demeanor set off alarm bells in his head; it was a mannerism he recognized from other women he’d slept with. Not recently, but back before the attempt on his life. Before he looked like this.

The realization Holly might be at risk of developing feelings for him wasn’t as cloying as he would’ve expected. As a younger man the thought of a woman becoming attached made him run, and run fast.

With Holly, his reaction was notably different. Pleasure slid slow and warm through him, along with possessiveness. His fingers itched with the urge to pull her into his arms or sweep her up and carry her back to the bedroom.

And it wasn’t just her appearance he was drawn to. There was so much beyond her physical beauty, and he still reeled at the innocence that had been her foundation.

Another vision flickered in his mind, and for a moment the vibrant image of her wavered, replaced with another one. The image of Holly terrified, a knife pressed to her throat. It was eerily similar to one of the last images he had of his mother.

He blinked and it was gone, but what didn’t vanish was the cold sweat on the back of his neck, or the ramifications of what could happen to her if she stayed in his life.

Holly’s smile faded. “You look like you’ve suddenly taken ill, Rafiq. Are you all right?”

He shook his head, scattering the ominous thoughts. “I’m fine. The limo is waiting downstairs. Shall we go?”

For a moment it seemed she was going to say more, but then she gave a slight nod. “I just need to grab my clutch, but then, yes, I’ll be ready.”

She turned and walked back into their room.

So lovely. Rafiq visually traced the delicate curve of her bare spine before it disappeared beneath the clingy red fabric.

He forced himself to look away, curling his hands into fists. He had to be very careful with Holly indeed. Because falling in love was not, and never would be, an option for him.

Not with Holly. Not with any woman.





Chapter 12



How long had it been since he’d attended one of these galas? Rafiq moved his gaze around the room, trying to recall. Months at least, possibly even a year. Social events were not something he enjoyed, but rather tolerated. And even then, he’d attended only when deemed necessary.

But with Holly by his side, it wasn’t quite as awful. In the past people would avoid him, giving him a wide berth while casting speculative glances his way. Though not tonight. At least a handful of partygoers had come up to make conversation. Perhaps Holly’s presence made him more approachable.

Holly had actually convinced him to dance more than once to the classical music the small orchestra played. He’d never cared for dancing, but any excuse that made it acceptable to hold Holly so close to him in public he’d take.

He’d never felt quite as relaxed as when she was in his arms. Almost carefree—though generally he hated the word.

Every pair of male eyes in the room visually devoured Holly, obviously saw her exactly as Rafiq had intended her to look tonight. As if she were explosively sexual arm candy that could easily be interchanged. The realization slid shame through him that was only made worse by Holly’s unwavering smile and upbeat attitude.

He knew the dress bothered her, despite her claim otherwise, and yet she obviously refused to feel degraded by the glances from the other men at the party.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Her soft question reached his ears only.

They’d taken a break from dancing to enjoy a glass of wine. Rafiq traced his fingers over the exposed flesh on her back and delighted in the tremble that ran through her.

“Does one ever really enjoy themselves at these events?”

“If you let yourself. You can deny it, Rafiq, but I’d say you even liked the dancing.” She laughed softly. “And really, you can’t argue that the crowd has been quite welcoming. Friendly, even.”

“Hmm. I think perhaps because you are by my side, habiba.”

She turned to face him, her gaze pensive. “I don’t know. Tonight you seem approachable. More relaxed, I suppose.”

Holly knew him that well, did she? Though she was right. More often than not he scowled through these events, which made him more difficult to approach. But tonight it was hard not to smile with Holly on his arm.

He enjoyed, much more than he should have, the shy glances she had often cast him from beneath her lashes tonight. Amazing that at one point he’d thought it all an act. How incredibly mistaken he’d been.

She was so much more innocent than he’d ever realized. Far too innocent to be caught up in an affair with the likes of him. But then, what choice did she have? He’d blackmailed her into posing as his mistress before he’d seduced her into making it a reality. Yes, perhaps she’d been the one to initiate their lovemaking, but he’d led her right to the seductive doorstep.

“Ah, see, now you’re scowling again.” Holly laughed and nudged him lightly in the side. “You need to stop that.”

“Hmm. Why don’t we just leave?”

“We can’t yet. They haven’t begun the auction, and you’ll want to be here to acknowledge your donation.”

He wouldn’t go so far as to say he wanted to be here, so he made a soft grunt in reply.

“Let’s have another glass of wine.”

“Hmm.”

“Try to relax and have fun. And try not to scowl at anyone, for goodness sake. I’ll return in a few minutes.”

Disappointment slid through him as she moved away. He felt her absence from his side more than he cared to admit.