Never Resist a Sheikh (International Bad Boys) (22 page)

A kind of fatalistic calm settled down inside him. The calm that came with the acceptance of the inevitable.

Yes, he knew what he had to do. What he should have done the day he’d lifted her from the dusty cobbles of Al-Harah and felt the beast inside him stir.

She could not stay, she was not safe. He had taken her away from everything and everyone she knew,
forced her to stay with him. Denied her an escape. Put at risk the company she valued. No, he may not have taken up a weapon to use against her, but he’d hurt her nonetheless.

And if he kept her, even if it was her choice, he would continue to hurt her.

Because she deserved more than a throne and country. She deserved to be loved. And that was the one thing he could never give her.

She. Was.
Not. Safe.

So he would let her go.

F
elicity stood in
front of the small mirror in her tent, fiddling with the veil of deep blue silk she’d wound around her hair and sighing with frustration. She could never get it right, and today, she particularly wanted to.

They would be going back to the palace that morning, their desert trip over, and a part of her felt desolate about that.

She wanted to stay here, spending
time with Zakir. Riding with him over the sands, swimming in the oasis. Learning dirty words in Arabic in his bed. Exploring their physical passion together. Talking with him about his country and his people. Listening to him talk about himself. Not that he did much of that, but she’d learned more about him at least, about his days in the army and the difficulties of becoming sheikh when he
hadn’t expected to.

More pieces of the puzzle. Yet it wasn’t enough.

Perhaps it never will be.

She stared at herself in the glass, no longer finding it so strange to have silk wrapped around her head.

No, perhaps it never would be enough. He was complicated. And maybe it would take a lifetime to uncover each and every facet of him.

Her chest constricted, a strange ache settling in her heart.

She hadn’t made her mind about what to do, deciding to enjoy the time with him while she could and leave the decision till later. She hadn’t even thought much about Red Star. And then last night, at the feast, she’d seen him leave abruptly. So she’d followed, knowing something was wrong and wanting to find out what it was.

She’d thought, for one intense, dizzying minute, that when he’d told her
he was regretting his promise to her, that it was because he wanted her.
He
wanted
her.
But it hadn’t been that at all. He hadn’t been thinking like the man, he’d been thinking like the king. Wanting her for his country, not for himself.

It had hurt. Far more than it had any right to and she couldn’t understand why.

Are you sure you don’t know why?

Her throat felt tight all of a sudden, because
of course she knew why.

She was falling for him.

Stupid, of course, to fall for the king who’d taken her, to fall for her kidnapper. But then, it wasn’t the king she was falling for. It was the man. The man who’d provided a phone for her to call her company and her family, who’d taken her side when she’d been insulted, who’d covered her with a cool cloth when the heat had gotten too much, and
who’d shown her the colors of a desert sunset then washed her hair under the stars.

The man who’d shown her the passions that lay within herself in the dark of the night.

A hard man, but honorable and protective.

A man she wanted more from than just to be his queen.

Her father had wanted a son. Her mother had wanted a different kind of daughter. No one had ever just wanted her. No one except
Zakir. Except, as it turned out, it seemed like she was more important to him as his queen than she was as Felicity.

She deserved more than that, didn’t she?

No, it wasn’t about what she deserved. It was about what she wanted. And she wanted him to care about her.

As if on cue, the tent flap opened and Zakir strode in, bringing the heat and swirling sands of the desert with him.

Her gaze caught
his in the mirror as he came up behind her, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his black eyes guarded, the mask of the king back in place.

The night before he hadn’t visited her in her tent or asked her to join him in his. It had been their last night and his lack of interest had hurt for reasons she hadn’t wanted to look at too closely. So she hadn’t pushed, telling herself it would
be good to get some sleep at last. Except she hadn’t slept, restless and aching for his hands on her skin. For his arms around her. For his scent and his heat.

They hit her now as she stood there while he automatically adjusted the veil on her head, the heat of him, the scent of sandalwood and spice. Making her body tighten and her heart ache.

“Thanks,” she said, a husky edge in her voice. “I
can never get that right.”

This would be last time he did that. Perhaps it would even be the last time he was this close.

Longing rose up inside her, and she turned abruptly, staring up at him. “Zakir,” she said thickly, not really knowing what she was going to say. “I—”

“It is time to go.” He stepped back from her, the look in his black eyes expressionless. “Are you ready?”

Something in her
chest folded in on itself. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

One black brow rose. “What do you mean?”

Her throat was suddenly tight. “Last night at the feast you said nothing was the matter but we didn’t… I slept alone.” She swallowed. “So what it is? And don’t tell me nothing because I don’t believe you.”

He stared at her a long moment, his eyes expressionless as black glass. Then he said, “I
am going to take you home, Felicity.”

The words felt like hard stones thrown into a pool, each one landing with a heavy splash, causing ripples to expand outwards. “H-Home?” she stammered. “What do you mean home?”

“I mean, I am going to put you on a jet back to America. I will also do what I can to help you renegotiate your company’s deal with the Al-Harahan government.”

She blinked, not quite
understanding, and for a moment even ignoring what he’d said about Red Star. “But…you said I could choose. You said I could choose to go or to stay. What if I choose to stay?”

His face was as hard as he’d ever seen it. “That is not a choice I am giving you. You wanted to be free so I am setting you free.”

The crumpled thing in her chest collapsed in a little more, a sharp, steady pain. “Why?”
she demanded. “Why, Zakir? What changed?”

A ripple of regret, of pain, passed over his features. He lifted a hand, cupping her cheek, his palm warm against her skin and she couldn’t help leaning into it. “I am sorry, little one. But I cannot hurt you anymore. And I will. If you stay, all you will get from me is hurt. I know what you deserve and I cannot give it to you. I will never be able to
give it to you.”

“What are you talking about? You haven’t hurt me and you won’t. Haven’t you learned anything these past four days?”

His thumb stroked the side of her cheek and that hurt, too. How strange when freedom had been what she’d wanted all along.

“I took you, Felicity,” he said softly. “I took you away from everything you knew and I kept you. And I was going to force you to marry me.
Those things hurt you. Life with me will hurt you.”

Her vision blurred. God, was she crying? She wanted to pull away from his hand but it felt so good, so gentle. This was stupid. He was right, he was hurting her and she couldn’t seem to pull away.

“Well, this hurts, too.” Her voice was thick with tears. “So how about you stop doing it.”

Horribly, he was the one who pulled away, leaving only
a lingering warmth against her cheek. “I will. Soon you will be on a flight home, your company will be taken care of, and you will put all this behind you.”

She felt the tear roll down her cheek. How strange to finally get what she wanted—the deal with Al-Harah—and yet now…it just didn’t seem all that important any longer. “What if I don’t want to put it behind me? What if I want to stay with
you?” She lifted a hand and brushed the tear away. “And what do you think I deserve anyway?”

Something flickered through Zakir’s eyes, something dark and hungry. Then it was gone. “You deserve love, Felicity.”

A part of her wanted to automatically deny it. But no. Not this time. Not after how he’d made her feel. Wanted. Special. Cherished. Maybe this time she could admit it to herself that not
only did she deserve love, she needed it.

You need it from him.

Her heart, her poor crumpled up heart, beat once in response, hard.

She blinked. “Can’t you give it to me?”

Slowly, he shook his head and a deep pain lanced through her.

“Why not?” It seemed important to know. “It has to do with your brother, doesn’t it?” Because somehow, it all did.

Zakir was silent a moment. Then he said,
“He loved Maysan. And his jealousy was amplified by his madness. If he had not loved her, she would still be alive.”

“So…this is all some kind of protective thing?” She couldn’t hide the note of disbelief in her voice.

“I do what I must to protect those who need it.”

Her throat felt clogged, swallowing impossible. “To protect you, you mean.”

The lines of his face hardened. “This is not about
me.”

“Yes, it is. You know you’re not like your brother, or at least, you should by now.” She took a ragged breath, feeling suddenly so angry she could barely speak. “All this about not wanting to hurt me? That’s just an excuse, Zakir, and you know it!”

His dark eyes glittered like jet, hard and sharp. “You do not know what you are talking about.”

“Yes, I do.” She took a step toward him, staring
up at him, heedless of the tears running down her cheeks. “I’m the genius, remember? And you’re hiding behind your brother. You’re hiding behind his madness.” She tried to swallow past the lump. Failed. “And you’re hiding because you’re afraid.”

Anger flickered across his face. “Do not presume—”

“I will presume!” She took another step, getting right up close to him. “I will presume everything!
I don’t what you’re afraid of, but I’m not.” She took a heaving breath, the words flooding out of her before she could stop them. “I would have stayed, Zakir. I could even have brought Red Star here. I wanted to. Because I’m falling in love with you, and I’m not afraid to admit it.”

He stared at her, and for a second a look of such fierce longing burned in his eyes that she thought he was going
to sweep her into his arms, hold her close. Tell her that she mattered, that he’d been wrong, that he loved her.

But he didn’t.

Instead the ferocity extinguished like a flame being snuffed, his face expressionless and cold once more.

“Be ready to go in five minutes,” he said flatly.

Then he turned and stalked out, leaving her with nothing but the lingering warmth on her cheek and the smell
of sandalwood and spice in the air.

Felicity stared at the tent’s entrance, her vision blurry with tears, a part of her wanting to go after him and beg him for what she wanted. But no, she had her pride. She wouldn’t go begging where she wasn’t wanted. And she wasn’t going to settle for any scraps he might throw her either.

If he was going to let her go, then she would go.

She had her company.
She didn’t need anything else anyway.

She never had.

*     *     *

Four weeks later,
an email arrived in Zakir’s personal inbox. It only had three words.
I’m not pregnant.

It made him so angry he had to shove his chair back and get up from his desk, pace the narrow confines of his office, because he just couldn’t sit there staring at it.

He couldn’t
work out why he was so angry.

For four weeks he’d excised Felicity Cartwright from his mind. He’d put her on a flight straight back to LA the moment they’d arrived back from the desert, and she’d gone without protest. Without even looking back. He’d been as good as his word afterwards, contacting Altair, the sheikh of Al-Harah, and asking him to reconsider working with Red Star as a personal
favor. The sheikh had done so—not that he’d needed much convincing after Zakir had pointed out everything Red Star could do for his country.