“When can we see him again?”
“I don’t know, darling.”
“Can he come for Christmas?”
“Christmas is still …”
“Twelve sleeps!” Jordan pointed at the advent calendar and she nodded.
“Right. Twelve sleeps. And he’s really just a very casual friend of mine.”
“What’s a casual friend?”
“You know, like someone you don’t know that well.”
“Oh. But then, can’t we get to know him well?”
Melinda shook her head. “Maybe, darling. I don’t know. Come on, let’s get breakfast cleaned up. Granny will be here any minute.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Marook says it’s serious.”
Ra’if pulled a face, angling his phone beneath his chin. “Marook is a traitor,” he mumbled, with only the smallest hint of amusement.
Olivia, far away in the Central Palace of Dashan, laughed. “Tell me about it. He definitely did his fair share of reporting back to your father when Zami and I met.”
He nodded silently at the appraisal. “It’s not serious,” he said eventually, remembering the purpose of her call. “She’s just a friend.”
“A friend you’re seeing every night?” Olivia was sceptical and it was apparent in the tone of her voice.
“It’s not like that.” He squared his shoulders, tapping his pen impatiently against his desk.
“No? So what is it like?”
He laughed. “You know, you are just about the only person on earth I would let interrogate me like this?”
“Yeah? So?”
“You seem to forget that I was born to rule the Kingdom of Dashan,” he murmured with good-natured affection for his sister in law.
“And you seem to forget that I am married to the ruler,” she barbed back, but he could hear the smile in her voice. “We miss you, Ra’if. Why don’t you come home?”
“Because I don’t know that it is home anymore,” he said quietly. His eyes focussed on the view beneath him. London, with its modern buildings and historical streets, weaved beneath him. He reached forward and touched the glass, taking a little strength from the character of the city. “And I have business in London still.”
“Then come for Christmas,” she insisted. “Just for a few days?”
He nodded, thinking of Melinda instantly. What had he expected? That they would spend the holiday together? He had completely taken leave of his senses, where that woman was concerned. “I’ll look at my diary.”
“No, you won’t. You’re putting me off. I know you too well for that.”
His smile was half-hearted. “Liv …”
“Ra’if …” She responded. He could hear weariness in her voice and was instantly alert.
“What is it? Is everything …”
“Oh.” She paused. “Everything’s fine. I just … I don’t know. Marook said …” A lengthy pause as Olivia evidently searched for the right words. “He says you’re not yourself.”
“Does he?”
A longer silence stretched between them. “He says you’re unpredictable. Spontaneous. Strange.”
Ra’if’s laugh was rich with disbelief. “That old man has been watching too many soap operas. He is imagining all this! I’m fine, Liv. You know me. Do you really think I’d be in any danger?”
“I think love can catch you unawares sometime,” she said softly. “And that you’re a great guy who a million women would fall over themselves to date.”
“It’s not love,” he said, needing to remind himself of that forcefully. For love didn’t exist in a void. It was a two way street; both people had to feel it to give it life. And she was determined not to let him in. “I’m not in love.”
“So? Then what is it?”
“Use your imagination,” he drawled, wishing the words back as soon as they’d said them. Even to Olivia, whom he adored, he did not feel comfortable discussing the intimacies of his time with Melinda. “She’s a friend,” he pedalled back lamely.
“But you’re sleeping with her.”
“Olivia.” It was a sharp whip into the phone; a reminder to both of them that his birth right had been to sit upon the throne of Dashan. “That’s enough.”
She expelled an angry sigh. “Marook said you were.”
“That man,” Ra’if stood, prowling across his office and propping his arm on the glass window then leaning further forward to look right down at the street. People moved as ants. “It is not his business.”
“It is if she’s into drugs.”
Ra’if was very quiet; very still. “She isn’t.”
Silence stretched between them; it was long and prickly. Finally, Olivia sighed. “Marook says you’ve been speaking to rehabilitation centres. Is it for her?”
He groaned. “And here I thought I’d escaped the iron guard.”
“Sorry,” she laughed softly. “I could call Marook right now and he’d tell me how many times Zamir has eaten today. He knows everything about you two boys.”
“Boys?” Ra’if shook his head ruefully.
“Don’t change the subject,” Liv said softly. “Why are you calling rehabs?”
He compressed his lips and turned his back on the view, focussing on his desk instead. It was cluttered. A bad habit he’d got into recently. There had been a time when he’d have refused to leave the office for the day without clearing his desk completely.
“It’s not for me. Or her.”
“So?” Liv was trying her hardest to be patient, he could tell. “Come on, Ra’if. I haven’t mentioned any of this to Zami yet.”
It wasn’t a threat; he knew his sister-in-law. She was worried about him. “Marook should not have said…”
“But he did.” She was quiet.
Ra’if kicked his long legs out in front of him. His eyes glowed with the force of his emotions. “It was just a distraction.” His voice was thick. He cleared his throat. “And it’s over.” He shrugged to emphasise that to himself.
“Good.” Olivia’s relief was obvious. “Because I don’t like the idea of you being with anyone who doesn’t make you happy. And you don’t sound happy.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “What the hell did I do before you were in my life?”
Olivia left the response unsaid. They both knew what he’d done – he’d found solace for his pain and grief in drugs.
He disconnected the call after a few more minutes of idle chit chat, but he was distracted.
He reached for his phone again and dialled Marook.
The man answered immediately. “Any news?”
Marook’s pause was heavy with unspoken concern. “No, sir. Nothing.”
Ra’if nodded, slowly. “Marook?” He toyed with the novelty of explaining his actions. Life, though, had changed him. The once arrogant ruler of Dashan had space in his head and heart for others now, and Marook –despite his tendency to intrude – was one such person. “I’m just helping Melinda out. You need not worry.”
Marook’s voice was rich with doubt. “I worry because there is temptation. Where there is temptation, there is worry.”
Ra’if shook his head. “It’s not temptation. It’s a cautionary tale. I see what this man has lost because of his addiction and I know I will never be back there. I will never lose those I love, Marook.”
Marook knew enough of Ra’if’s steel and resolve to be momentarily appeased. “I will redouble the efforts. There was a lead. A possible link in Bristol. I will do what I can.”
“It’s important,” Ra’if said sombrely, leaning back in his chair and once again staring out at the view of the city. “I need to find him.”
* * *
She blinked away the tears. They were stupid and unwelcome. She’d made the right decision.
The only decision she could.
But days after hearing Ra’if say he loved her, Melinda felt no less alone and remorseful than she had the night he’d left. It had all been a fantasy. Looking back, she�
��d been so foolish not to press him harder about his identity.
There had been signs the whole way.
He was no ordinary man.
From the way he spoke, to the quality of his clothes, the obvious hallmarks of wealth that were just a part of who he was, to the languages he spoke, the mystery about what he actually did… she’d let herself ignore all of those question marks because he’d seduced her with his beautiful smile and incredible body. With his sexual magnetism and masculine appeal.
He’d found a way under a barrier she never let anyone near!
Not once since having Jordan had she been tempted to get close to someone. Not romantically.
She’d had offers.
A guy she worked with had been pretty persistent in his interest over the years. But Melinda had always known that she was better off alone.
She wasn’t alone, anyway.
Her eyes lifted to Jordan’s closed door and her heart lifted.
But what if, in denying her own desires, she was hurting him, too? What if she was closing the door on relationships that might actually give Jordan something that he was missing.
She dismissed the thought instantly.
Jordan needed stability.
It was her job – her most important job – to provide it.
She lifted her tea to her lips and sipped it, enjoying the heat as it scalded her mouth.
But God, she missed him.
A shiver danced down her spine as she thought of Ra’if and wished, with every single cell in her body, that he was with her. That he was kissing her; touching her, holding her.
Her phone ringing beside her startled her out of her reverie, and tiny goose bumps lingered on her flesh when she saw Ra’if’s face on the screen. She swiped it quickly, her heart racing.
“Hello?”
“Can we talk?”
She frowned. “I guess that’s why I answered the phone.”
His laugh was soft and it made her gut twist painfully. She missed him. “I meant face to face. I’m downstairs.”
She leaped off the sofa so fast she almost spilled her tea. She cradled it in her palm as she crossed the room and looked through the window.
There he was, leaning indolently against the side of his car, looking far better than any one man had a right to look. His ankles were crossed, his eyes fixed on her apartment, he was both nonchalant and tense at once. It was snowing, but he appeared not to feel it.
“I need five minutes of your time,” he said, as though he thought she might be able to decline. To tell him to go away.
Not bloody likely.
“Come on up,” she heard herself say hoarsely.
He disconnected the call and kept his eyes on the window – on her – as he crossed the street. She groaned softly, her body weakened by needs that only Ra’if could answer.
“Shoot.” She crossed the flat and pressed the buzzer to open the security door and then wrenched her own door inwards. She was too impatient to wait for him. She moved out onto the landing, her arms crossed over her chest to stop from throwing herself at him bodily.
He took the stairs two at a time, his effortless athleticism on display, making her heart ache. His eyes seemed to glow.
She stared at him, waiting, her nerves stretching to breaking point.
“Hi,” she said finally.
He didn’t respond. He could only stare.
“Would you … come in.”
He nodded, following her into the apartment.
The sense of ‘home’ hit him like a sledge hammer. He ground his teeth together and spun around to face her. “This won’t take long.”
“That’s okay,” she was quick to reassure him, already dreading the moment when he would leave again. “I was just having a cup of tea. Can I get you anything?”
“Hot chocolate?” He teased and she grinned, but it was a nervous smile.
“Would you like one?”
“No, thanks. I came only to speak with you.”
“Is everything okay?”
He nodded slowly, the thoughts that had been with him for days needed to communicate themselves to her urgently.
“I have told you that my mother died when I was very young,” he said softly, his feet planted to the floor, his arms crossed, his body unmoving.
She nodded, sympathy scoring her soul.
“It changed who I was. Who we both were. My brother Zami took it harder than I. At least, he appeared to. He was younger and free to mourn her passing. I was expected to show a brave face at all times.”
Her heart squeezed. “How old were you?”
“Six,” he murmured, thinking back to the last time he’d seen her. He closed his eyes for a moment and there she was. Caitlyn Fayez, beautiful Elmira, adored mother.
“Oh, Ra’if.” Melinda couldn’t keep her distance. She walked towards him but he shook his head.
“I need to explain this carefully and if you touch me, I will not be able to resist kissing you. I think we both know what happens next. Please, let me … say what I came to say.”
She understood. The tension between them was a flame waiting to burst into the room. “Go on.” But she stayed where she was, only inches from him, so that she could see every flicker of emotion as it passed over his handsome face.
“I was raised to rule my land.” A muscle jerked in his cheek. “It was my birth right. I was to be strong. Fearless. Unbreakable. But losing her did break me, all the more because I could not admit to how lost I was. But, Melinda? I was adrift. I was on a turbulent ocean for a very long time, with no anchor point. I was lost.”
Tears stung her eyes. She wanted, more than anything, to wrap her arms around him.
“She was a Queen, but our mother first, and she was an excellent one. Despite the rigours of her role, she tucked us into our beds every night. She was determined for us to know how much she loved us.”
A tear slid down Melinda’s cheek. She couldn’t look away.
“My brother Zamir was only four. Younger than Jordan.” His lip lifted in a half smile of remembrance. “He took it very hard. They were especially close. I was so envious of him, you know. Emotions that shame me to recall, but I was so jealous of how freely he could express his grief. He cried when he felt sad. He wept, and I comforted him.”
“And who comforted you…?” She asked, appalled to think of this man as a young boy, so isolated and alone with such grief on his shoulders, trying to be brave.
“I coped in my own ways.” He pulled a face. “They were not good ways. I made decisions that were inherently incompatible with my duties to my Kingdom.”
“What decisions?” She asked softly, scanning his face.
His lips were a grim line. He could never tell her about the drug addiction. It was a secret that would destroy what they shared. Whatever that was. She would no longer look at him as she did; she would see her ex. Brent. A man who had not been able to conquer his dependencies. Ra’if was nothing like that. He’d fought a battle and he’d emerged victorious.
Melinda was his prize; he was not going to alienate her.
“It is not important for now. What is important, azeezi, is that I have bottled my feelings up for a long time.” Now he did touch her. He lifted his hands to cup her face, holding her so that he could look into her eyes. “I spent most of my life pushing my emotions deep inside of me, because I believed they weakened me. I denied myself the chance to feel as I really did. And I cracked. It is no way to live.” He padded his thumb over her cheek, watching as wonder spread in her eyes.
“You might not love me. Or maybe you do, and you aren’t ready to admit that to yourself yet. But do you really want to end this? Whatever it is, between us?”
She swallowed; he felt the force of the movement in her throat.
A tear slid down her cheek. He caught it with his fingertip.
“I don’t have the luxury of thinking only of my own wants,” she whispered. “It is just so complicated. If you were just some ordinary
guy from London, I would still feel as I do – I would still think very long and hard before getting involved. Because of Jordan. Because I can’t put him through getting to know someone and becoming attached to them unless I think it’s a forever type of thing!”
“How can you ever have that kind of guarantee?”
“You can’t. That’s why I don’t date. And … you’re definitely not just a normal guy. You’re a King. And you’re from somewhere far away. You don’t even live in London.”
“I don’t live anywhere,” he said thickly. “But for the first time in my life, since we met, I feel at home somewhere.” He dropped a hand to her chest and tapped a finger to her heart. “This is where I want to be. With you. What does the rest matter?”
“It … matters,” she said finally. “What future can there be for us? Where can this possibly go?”
“Wherever you want it to,” he said finally, knowing he was putting more of his heart on the line than he’d ever thought he would. “I am not afraid of my feelings anymore, azeezi. I am afraid only of loss, because I’ve felt it before. And you have too. We both of us have been scarred by it. But aren’t some things worth the risk? Don’t you think what we share is one of those things?”
“I’m afraid.”
“Only a fool would not feel fear when stepping into this abyss. But it would be far more foolish to walk away now. I know you want this, and I am promising you that I will not hurt you or Jordan. I will be careful.”
She sobbed and shook her head, but her heart was somersaulting. She was nodding then, and tears were falling from her eyes.
“Yes,” she groaned, standing up on tiptoes, bringing her lips to his desperately. It was a kiss of aching, soul-destroying need and euphoria. Their mouths meshed; their tongues clashed. It was a fight for supremacy that they both won. “Yes,” she said again. “I do want this. I want you.” But what about the consequences? She ignored the voice of reason. She would cope with the fallout, as she’d coped with everything.
She needed to feel this. Just once, she was going to be selfish.
He swore in his own language and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and carrying her to her bedroom. He didn’t switch the light on. There was no need. He knew every single detail of her body. Snow fell outside, little tiny flakes that whispered their congratulations as Ra’if kissed the only woman he’d ever loved.
The Sheikh's Christmas Wish Page 9