Heir to a Dark Inheritance (7 page)

Because there were layers. All shields were up with this man, no question. As he’d relayed the story of his desolate childhood, his life as a mercenary, there had been no emotion. Until the mention of Sayid.

“And that’s how you ended up with a palace in the desert?”

“That is the long version of the story, yes. The short version is, a sheikh gave me a palace. Women like that one, usually,” he said, giving her a careless wink before turning away, taking a right at the curved staircase that would lead them back to her room.

“I’m sure they do. What do they think of the whole ex-mercenary thing?”

“Oh, I don’t go spreading that one around.”

“What do you tell them you do?”

“They don’t usually ask.”

“They don’t?”

“No,” he said.

She had to take two stairs at a time to try and keep up with his long stride. At only five three, she wasn’t exactly long
legged, and she guessed he was more than a foot taller than she was. “What do they ask?”

He stopped and turned to her and she didn’t manage to stop her stride in time, putting herself right in front of him, her eyes level with the center of his chest. “They don’t usually talk this much,” he said, eyes intent on hers.

She sucked in a shuddering breath, suddenly finding it hard to stand straight. She’d never been so close to a man who was so…so much. That’s what it was. Alik was just too much. Too masculine, too unrefined, too sexy. Oh, he was much too sexy. He was also too immoral, too unemotional and too much a stranger for her to be going weak-kneed over him.

Yet again, her body didn’t seem to care much for the common sense take on things.

“I see.”

“Do you?” he asked, his head cocked to the side.

“Y-yes.”

Why wasn’t he moving? She couldn’t back up, then she would betray that she was unnerved by his closeness. She was, but he didn’t need to know that. He needed to move on up the stairs so that she could breathe again. So that her body would feel like it belonged to her again.

“You don’t approve,” he said, turning away and continuing up the stairs.

The knot that had been building in her chest frayed and loosened, releasing a gust of air from her lungs. “I’m not judging,” she said.

“You are judging.”

“Only a little. Because clearly, Leena as evidence, you have some control issues when it comes to women.”

“I do not have control issues,” he said.

“Really?” They reached the top of the stairs and Alik didn’t turn on any lights.

“Really,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Saying I have control issues implies that I fail at stopping myself
from conducting liaisons with women when the simple truth is, I give in willingly. Unless I’m on duty, I don’t see the point in abstaining.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that. And I don’t believe that that’s sufficient evidence that you don’t have an issue with control. I find you self-indulgent.”

“I am extremely self-indulgent. And also quite indulgent of my partners. But it still doesn’t speak to a lack of control.” He took a step toward her, and she took one away from him. Her back came up against the wall and her breathing stopped altogether.

“I think it does,” she said, unwilling to back down.

“Oh, Jada, if I had a lack of control—” he advanced on her again, and she found herself without anywhere to flee “—you would know.”

“I would?” She cursed her mouth. It was part of the mutiny against common sense her body was currently executing while her brain looked on in horror.

“I would have kissed you by now. I would have pulled you into my arms and tasted your lips, your throat. I would have put my hand on your breast, felt your nipples getting hard beneath my fingers. Then my tongue.”

She turned her head to the side. It was the only way she could force herself not to look at him, the only way to keep herself from being drawn into his web.

He chuckled and she looked back. He had moved away from her, continuing on down the hall. “Lucky for you,” he said, “I have no such control issues.”

Insults flooded her mind, insults that wanted badly to escape and fly at his head. However, for some reason, now she had some sort of handle on her self-control and she couldn’t speak them. A cruel joke.

It took her a moment, but she could finally speak again. “I wouldn’t let you.”

“I’m not so sure that’s true,” he said, stopping at a door
that looked very much like the rest of the doors to her. “This is you.”

“So it is,” she said, still not convinced. Everything looked the same to her and this place was like a maze. “And I
wouldn’t
let you.”

He looked at her, and she felt every heated word he’d said pouring into her. Felt it beneath her skin, promises of sensual pleasure that went well beyond her experience.

She didn’t know where that thought had come from. She knew about sex and she’d had plenty of it. She seriously doubted that there was sensual pleasure she somehow hadn’t reached. Sex was all fine and good, but not, in her experience, something to make you lose your mind. And there was no way the experience would be better with Alik. She’d loved her husband, after all, and she didn’t even like this man.

Love made sex better, surely. Love was what she’d waited for. Love and marriage, and there had been no one since. Because emotion was more important than desire and she understood that. She almost pitied Alik for not getting it.

And she pitied her poor, traitorous body its increased heart rate and sweaty palms. She was above all that. She knew better than to be drawn into it.

“If you say so,” he said. “Have a good night.”

“I will.”
Alone
.

“I will see you tomorrow.”

She didn’t want to see him tomorrow. She wanted to pretend that in the morning, all of this would evaporate. But she’d been hoping that for days now, and still, every morning she woke up in a palace in a foreign desert country, the sea crashing outside of her window.

And while, on paper, that all sounded fine, the inclusion of Alik Vasin made it feel decidedly less so.

T
HERE WAS NO GOOD REASON
for Alik to remain in Attar, and remain celibate. None at all. And yet, here he was, still tethered to his palace and, in effect, to the woman and child who were occupying it.

It had been a strange couple of weeks. It had, at first, been easy to justify that he was staying to ensure he didn’t subject the child to another move too quickly after the first one. Then he’d had to wait for the adoption paperwork to come for Jada so he could sign anything he needed to sign and they could get everything sent in. Then, he thought he shouldn’t leave them here. It was too remote. He would feel more comfortable, a bit like less of a marauding bastard, if he installed them in one of his more urban homes.

So that Jada could walk or drive where she needed to go. So that they didn’t have to worry about sandstorms or any of the other dangers in the desert. And there were so many.

Alik paced the length of the balcony that looked out over his pool. That pool was one of the dangers. As was a balcony. He would have to be sure everything was secured.

He hadn’t known there were so many dangers in the world until he’d brought a child into his life. Laughable though the thought was, since he was a man who had faced death more times than most. But thinking of danger in the context of himself didn’t bother him in the least.

But that soft, small, helpless little girl who now lived in his home? Thinking of her in danger twisted his insides.

And there were so many dangers to a person that small. The floors in the palace were too hard. The stone a hazard for a toddling child’s forehead.

Alik strode back into his room and down the stairs. Jada was sitting in the dining room, holding Leena in her lap. Leena had her chubby fist wrapped around a piece of banana.

“Babies are impractical,” he said.

Jada arched one dark eyebrow. “How so?”

“They are too small. It’s unreasonable.”

“Do you think so?” she asked, her eyes glittering with amusement. It irritated him.

“Yes.”

“You should have seen her when she was a newborn. She weighed six pounds. She was no longer than your forearm.”

He looked down at his arm. “That is entirely unreasonable.”

“But so cute.”

“They are also loud. Too loud for something so small.”

“The better to keep track of them.”

“That is practical.”

Jada smiled, and Alik felt a strong tug in his gut. More impractical even than babies, was his attraction to his new wife. She was beautiful, so it was no real surprise that it existed. It was the insistence of it. The total, consuming nature of it. He wasn’t accustomed to giving a woman more than a passing assessment and, if she was willing, acting upon the attraction, or walking away if she wasn’t.

Although, in his memory there had been no unwilling women. Women typically responded to him. It was almost predictable. The kind of predictable he would never complain about. Perhaps that was the difference. Jada didn’t want him, or rather, didn’t want to want him, with a vehemence that emanated from her petite frame.

It was unusual. And not as deterring as he would have liked it to be.

He should stay well away from her. That he felt the desire to kiss her, to steal some of that passion from her, was warning enough that she was the sort of woman he should never touch. The level to which she tempted him should be warning enough.

“I’m glad you find something about your daughter to be practical,” she said.

“It wasn’t a commentary on her, but on all new humans. The head size is also of concern to me.”

“Of concern to you? Think of how concerning it is for women—we have to give birth to them.”

“You didn’t.”

He realized the moment he said the words, that they had been wrong. He had never spent much time being concerned with whether or not his words were hurtful or right. He’d never had to. He wasn’t in the habit of making much in the way of conversation with anyone. Only Sayid had his ear.

Otherwise, in the rooms filled with the most people, there was rarely anything to say. In clubs everyone was too busy dancing, letting the music move through their bodies and erase everything else. Failing that, there was the alcohol chaser—he was a big fan of those.

But there wasn’t conversation. And as he’d always seen himself as being smooth, adept, he was shocked to discover that conversing with women was not his strength. Which made it an even bigger shame that sex with Jada was off the table. Because, in the bedroom at least, he would satisfy her, of that he was certain.

“That was a jackass thing to say,” she said, standing up, Leena held firmly against her chest.

Frustration bubbled up in him. He wished he could understand things like this. Emotion. He’d spent the better part of his life faking it, expecting that one day it would take root
down inside of him, but it hadn’t. It left him feeling at a disadvantage in these types of situations. And he hated feeling at a disadvantage.

“I know,” he said. Because he did know, even if he didn’t understand why.

“Then why did you say it?”

“I was merely making an observation.”

“Don’t make observations like that.”

“Explain to me then, why it was the wrong thing to say.”

She looked shocked, and angry. Her dark brows were locked together, eyes glimmering with golden fire. “You need it explained to you? Why your need to undermine me as Leena’s mother is offensive? I didn’t marry you to be treated like the help. I married you so that my position as Leena’s mother would be unquestionable. To you and to everyone else. So your comments about how I didn’t give birth to her only serve to take that sacrifice and make it meaningless!”

“How is it made meaningless by a comment? I didn’t physically destroy the marriage license, or any of the adoption paperwork, and that is what gives you your status.”

Logic. He would try and use logic to defuse the situation.

Judging by the stormy look on her face, it didn’t work.

“That’s your problem, Alik. You see things in black-and-white. You see them as blood or paperwork without taking the heart into the equation, and you can’t do that.” She turned and walked from the room, leaving him standing there alone.

Why the hell hadn’t he left? He could get some peace and quiet. Stop worrying about Leena bumping her head on the stone floors.

He could find a woman. He could go and get laid and stop obsessing about Jada.

He took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed his personal assistant. “Luca, forward my calls. I will be here in Attar working for the foreseeable future.”

He punched the end call button and sat down at the table.
He put his palm on the table and into a spot of mushed banana. He grimaced. “Coffee!” he shouted, not caring he sounded demanding. He had to have control over something.

Because he seemed to have lost control over a hell of a lot since Jada Patel had entered his life.

Leena was sound asleep, and Jada found she envied her daughter. Leena didn’t have any cares. She slept soundly and with a clean conscience, while Jada paced around in the dark feeling overheated and guilty. And a little dirty.

She should be upset at Alik. She
was
upset at Alik. But what she shouldn’t be was attracted to Alik, and she found that no matter how stupid and offensive the things that came out of his mouth were, the feelings didn’t go away.

They hadn’t been instant. Not anywhere near it. She’d been too angry with him, had hated him too much initially. She wasn’t sure she liked him a whole lot more now, but being in proximity with him had given her time to notice what she hadn’t at first.

And that was basically a chiseled jaw, flawless muscle structure and eyes that seemed to see straight through her. Or at least straight through her clothes. Which, again, should be much more offensive than it was.

She huffed and walked out of her bedroom, closing the door gently behind her, and heading down the stairs, out to the garden area. The palace was still hard for her to navigate, less so now that she’d realized it had light switches. The memory made her smile and she forced herself to stop. No dreamy, smiley-type memories of Alik.

It was manufactured. Because if she went further with that memory, she would come to the crude, awful things he’d said to her in the hall. About kissing her. Touching her.

Her body heated. With rage, she was sure. Because it had been crude. Not exciting.

She pushed open the ornate double doors that led out to
the pool and the gardens. She paused and headed toward the pool, which was set into the balcony, overlooking the ocean.

She stopped when she heard the sound of water in motion, closer than the waves below. And she had to wonder if she’d come here on purpose, hoping a little bit that she might find him.

He hadn’t seen her yet, though. There was no way.

She could just barely make out his shape. He was gliding through the water, a dark shadow in the brightly lit pool. Like a shark. She had to stop comparing him to predators—it was giving her a complex. Making her feel hunted.

Another rash of heat spread through her. What was wrong with her? Where was sensible, practical Jada?

“Jada.” His head was above the surface now and he was treading water, his eyes fixed on her.

“How do you do that?” she asked.

“If I was not good at sensing when people were present, I would be dead by now.”

“You say that with such certainty.”

“I am certain of it.” He swam to the edge of the pool, planting his palms firmly on the side and levering himself out of the water.

She watched the play of his muscles, water sliding down over the dips and hollows. Her throat felt suddenly dry and she realized she was thirsty. That brought to mind the image of her sliding her tongue over his skin, collecting the drops and…

She blinked. “I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Obviously neither could you.”

“Not so much.” He reached down and took a towel from one of the chairs that lined the pool, dragging it over his broad chest. Her eyes followed the motion.

She could see now, more clearly, the tattoo on his chest, and when he raised his arm to brush the towel over his short
dark hair, she saw another one, words, running the length of his bicep.

“What do they mean?” she asked.

“This one?” he pointed to the inside of his wrist, the black anchor. “Nothing. I was very drunk that night.”

“And the one on your chest? It’s written in Arabic, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I got it after that hideous injury healed. I don’t often complain about pain, but that one hurt.” He paused. “It was after Sayid was taken captive. He was in prison for a year. That’s how long it took us to find him. A year of intel, of threats and whatever else we could do to convince his enemies to reveal his whereabouts. I got it just before we executed the mission to rescue him. It’s a common proverb here, something parents say to their children. ‘At the time of a test, a person rises or falls.’ I knew that when I went in after Sayid, I would rise or fall with him. Luckily, we lived.”

“Yes, luckily.”

White teeth flashed in the darkness, one of his naughty smiles, she was sure. “You don’t sound overly thrilled about me coming out of it alive, Jada.”

“I wouldn’t wish death on you. Not on anyone. I’m glad Leena has a father.” Though she wished Leena could have a father more capable of loving her. Alik cared, she could see that. There was a fierce protectiveness that ran through his actions with his daughter, but there was no tenderness. He almost seemed afraid of her. Afraid to touch her.

She thought back to their earlier conversation about babies and wondered if he was worried that she’d break beneath his touch.

“You just wish it wasn’t me,” he said. There was emotion beneath his words, and she was startled by it. She was used to cool detachment from him, from a logical approach to things that simply couldn’t be reasoned out, in her opinion.

She shook her head. “Not necessarily.”

“She would be your husband’s daughter, if he were still alive.”

She closed her eyes and fought a wave of sadness as it washed over her. Typical of Alik to say, with overwhelming casualness, the most hurtful thing. And to not even realize or understand it. No, Sunil wouldn’t have been Leena’s father. Because with him, she wasn’t sure adoption would have ever happened. Thinking about that just confused her. Hurt her.

“But he’s not.” She opened her eyes again. “He’s not here. He’s not her father. And I’ve moved on from that.”

“You have moved on?”

She blinked, knowing her next words would be a lie. “Yes.”

“How? Explain to me how you have moved on? You have had other lovers?”

She hadn’t even been on a date. Hadn’t looked at another man. Hadn’t wanted to. Until Alik. And since she’d met him she still didn’t
want
to look at another man, she was just finding it difficult not to. “No. I was focused on the adoption.”

“Then how is it you’ve moved on?”

“How do you move on?” she asked. She knew he wouldn’t know. He didn’t understand things like that. Things like emotion and pain, things like what it meant to love someone. “I mean, really. That part of my life is a part of me. It’s who I am.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“I spent most of my adult life being his wife. Learning how to live with him, as you do with any marriage. Cooking food just how he liked it.”

“Making love how he liked it?”

Her cheeks burned. “That too.”

“And what about what you like?”

“Marriage is compromise,” she said. “You give, your spouse gives. You form a new shape to accommodate them. And then when you lose them…”

“The changes don’t make sense?”

She nodded slowly. “Something like that.”

“She would, perhaps, be better off with your first husband than with me.”

His tone was rough now, an edge to it.

“I don’t resent your place in Leena’s life,” she said, realizing that it was true.

“I think you do.”

“No, Alik. I only resent your place in my life.”

“I see. And what about it do you find so objectionable?”