by Sarah Morgan
From the moment they’d entered the magnificent desert city of Al-Rafid they had been accompanied by mounted guards and Bella felt a rush of nostalgia for the simple life they’d led by the oasis. Astride his prancing black stallion, Zafiq was unmistakable as a man of power and authority and Bella had never felt more removed from him than she did now.
It didn’t help that he hadn’t once glanced in her direction since they’d reached the city.
Consoling herself that she was at least still by his side, Bella stroked Amira, taking comfort from the warmth of the mare’s shiny coat.
Zafiq rode into a beautiful court yard dominated by a central fountain and swung out of the saddle. Reluctant to leave Amira, Bella stayed on the mare but he turned to look at her, his dark gaze unreadable.
‘The Retreat have sent your things. Your passport and travel documents are all intact. You have your wish—you are back in civilisation. There will be no charges for the theft of the horse. You are free to go.’
Go? Bella felt her insides drop. He was sending her away?
For a moment she thought she must have misunderstood him.
He couldn’t possibly be saying it was over, could he?
For the past four days they’d been as close as it was possible for a man and a woman to be. They’d shared everything.
Well, almost everything, she thought uncomfortably, thinking of all the things she hadn’t told him about herself.
But this couldn’t be about that. He couldn’t have found out yet, could he?
And Bella admitted to herself that she was dreading that moment.
For once she’d been able to live her life outside the persona that the media had created for her.
And she’d never been happier.
Perhaps he didn’t realise that she didn’t want to leave. After all, she’d gone on and on about hating the desert and wanting to get back to civilisation, hadn’t she? Perhaps he didn’t realise that she’d fallen in love with the desert—and him.
Bella froze with shock.
No. That couldn’t be right. Not love. She didn’t do love. Men fell in love with her. Men made fools of them selves over her. It didn’t happen the other way round.
With a shiver of panic, she touched the mare’s neck, feeling the animal quiver in response. ‘Miss Balfour?’
Hearing her name, Bella turned automatically and saw an elderly man studying her. He knew who she was. Her eyes flickered nervously to Zafiq but he was surrounded by people and she suddenly realised that up until this point she’d had no real sense of just how important he was. In the desert he had seemed like a strong, powerful man. Here, he was a ruler.
For a moment her mind flickered back to the unsmiling, cold man who had rescued her and then she remembered how he’d laughed with her, how they’d held each other in passion.
Suddenly she was desperate for him to smile at her again—
‘I am Kalif, His Royal Highness’s chief adviser. If you come with me, I can make the necessary arrangements.’
Still staring at Zafiq, Bella craned her neck to get a better view through the crowd, only half listening to the man. ‘Necessary arrangements for what?’
‘For your journey home.’
Arrangements to have her removed from the Sheikh’s life like some diseased piece of flesh.
She wasn’t a suitable woman for a sheikh to consort with in public.
Knowing that she was not being given a choice, Bella swung her leg over the horse and dismounted. ‘Thank you.’ Determined to maintain her dignity, she followed Kalif across the court yard, struggling not to look back. It felt as though someone was pulling at her head and it was almost a relief when Kalif led her through a heavy door and into an ornate corridor.
‘Your things were for warded from the Retreat, Miss Balfour. I have them here.’ He led her into a large airy room, dominated by an antique desk and large, colourful tapestries depicting desert scenes.
Bella stared at her designer suitcase, feeling as though it had come from a different life. A few days ago she would have been desperate to lay her hands on it, but now?
Wordlessly, she crossed the room and yanked the zip down. Inside was everything she’d been craving. There was her laptop, her phone, her iPod, a mirror, make-up—all the things she’d learned to live without.
She had everything. She stared at the contents blankly, realising that the only thing she wanted was Zafiq.
That feeling of being wanted. That feeling of being connected with someone.
Confronting the unpalatable fact that for him it had just been sexual, Bella gave a twisted smile. When had men ever wanted anything else from her?
Kalif cleared his throat. ‘The owner of the Retreat asked me to deliver a message to you.’
Staring down at the stark reminder of her real life, Bella barely heard him. ‘What was the message?’
‘He said that he hopes you will find peace.’
‘Fat chance,’ Bella muttered, zipping the bag closed so violently that the mechanism jammed.
‘Bella Balfour?’
Zafiq’s hand whitened on the newspaper article. Dropping it on his desk, he picked up the next one, this time a glossy gossip magazine with a stunningly beautiful blonde snapped arriving at Balfour Manor for the annual ball. The headline was Bella of the Ball and the girl was wearing a shocking dress so short that it barely skimmed the top of her incredible legs. Her blonde hair gleamed like a sun flower on a summer day and her bold blue eyes flirted with the camera.
She was so impossibly glamorous he barely recognised her as the girl who had plaited her hair and tied it with the leaf of a date palm. The girl who had galloped across the sand, an expression of sheer happiness on her face.
Kalif cleared his throat. ‘As you can see, Your Highness, she is extremely high profile.’
Zafiq gave a hollow laugh as he flicked through the magazines.
Fashion icon.
Party queen.
He only needed to briefly scan what was in front of him to know that the woman he’d become obsessed with bore a striking similarity to his late stepmother.
With no qualm or conscience, Bella Balfour had flirted with him and slept with him. He couldn’t even blame it on misunderstanding because she’d actually given him a false name.
None of the emotions she’d expressed had been genuine.
Shock held him rigid, the raw tension in his powerful frame the only outward manifestation of his inner pain.
For the first time ever, he’d let a woman close. And not any woman—this woman.
‘The newspaper editors must have felt as though they’ve been operating in their own desert over the past few weeks without Bella Balfour to give them material.’ Somehow he kept his voice level. ‘There must have been a panic when she disappeared. It’s fortunate I contacted the Retreat. I’m surprised her family didn’t have a search party out looking for her.’
‘It appears that Miss Balfour has a reputation for being involved in somewhat wild goings-on,’ Kalif murmured, his expression neutral. ‘Her disappearance caused nothing more than a few raised eyebrows.’
Digesting that piece of information, Zafiq stared sightlessly out of the window. Wild goings-on.
It was like listening to the complaints he’d heard about his stepmother.
‘Where is Miss Balfour now?’
‘I have had her taken to a bedroom suite, Your Highness. Given that there is no flight to England until tomorrow after noon, it seemed like the best plan. Miss Balfour seemed rather subdued.’
‘Subdued?’ Zafiq gestured to the newspapers with a sweep of his hand. ‘Are we talking about the same woman?’
Kalif hesitated. ‘She looked pale after the ride through the desert. I took the precaution of asking the palace physician to examine her.’
Clearly she was worried that her lies had been exposed.
And the fact that she was still in his palace disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.
Somewhere,
right now, she was probably standing naked under a shower, letting the water cool her beautiful body as she’d done so many times over the previous few days.
Picking up another newspaper, Zafiq stared at the headline in blank silence.
Bal four Family in Ruins.
‘This woman appears to make the front pages with monotonous regularity. Clearly she is an inveterate attention seeker. Thank you, Kalif,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t let me delay you. I know you have things to do.’
‘Yes, Your Highness.’
As his chief adviser melted out of the room Zafiq stood without moving, his eyes fixed on the gorgeous, glamorous girl on the pages in front of him.
Was it any wonder he’d behaved like a sex-starved adolescent? He was a red-blooded male and Bella Balfour was a distractingly beautiful woman.
But it hadn’t just been her beauty that had appealed to him—it had been her spirit, her vitality, her lack of deference.
There had been times when he could cheerfully have throttled her and other times when he’d relished the challenge she’d presented.
She’d excited him as no other woman ever had and she hadn’t been afraid to stand up to him. Nor had she been afraid to lie.
Not once during the intimacy they’d shared had she told him who she really was.
And that, he thought grimly as he scooped all the papers up and deposited them in the bin, said everything that needed to be said about her. Bella Balfour was a wild child with no sense of responsibility or duty.
Holding that fact in his head, Zafiq swiftly showered, shaved and changed into a suit and tie, ready for his meeting.
Knowing she was there, in his palace, placed an almost intolerable burden on his self-control.
He wasn’t going to go and see her, he told himself savagely, striding through the palace, oblivious to the anxious looks people were casting in his direction. Tomorrow she’d be back in her old life, and the temptation would be removed.
The one thing he did not need in his life was a wild child.
Bella sat at the ornate window seat, staring into space.
Her face was wet with tears and when she heard the door of her room opening she quickly turned her face towards the window, not wanting anyone to see her crying.
‘I honestly don’t need a doctor,’ she muttered thickly, ‘but thanks for the thought.’
‘If you are told to see a doctor, then you’ll see one,’ Zafiq said coldly, and Bella tensed, anger shooting through her like the flame from a blow torch.
‘Go away! I don’t have anything to say to you. You’re a complete and utter bastard, Zafiq.’ She heard the door slam shut and wondered for a moment if he’d stormed out of the room, but then she heard his firm, confident tread as he walked towards her.
‘I could have you imprisoned for that remark.’
‘Is that how you dump women you don’t want any more? You throw them in your dungeon?’
‘I don’t have dungeons,’ he gritted, ‘any more than I have a harem.’
‘Careful, Zafiq, you’re on the verge of losing that precious control of yours.’ She pulled her knees up to her chest, not looking at him, devastated by his rejection. ‘What are you doing here anyway?’
‘I want to know why you lied to me.’
‘I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you the truth.’
‘Stop acting like a spoiled child,’ he thundered, ‘and answer my question!’
‘Leave me alone.’
‘Why are you sulking?’
‘I’m not sulking. I’m thinking.’
‘A whole new experience for you, I should imagine.’ His acid tone stung and she gave a hollow laugh.
‘Ahh…I see you’ve been reading about me. My life story in headlines.’
‘Why did you tell me you were called Kate?’
‘Because for five minutes of my life I didn’t want to be Bella Balfour, OK?’ Her voice rose. ‘Try having a surname like mine and maybe you’d understand.’ Over whelmed by emotion, Bella turned her head and looked at him for the first time and immediately regretted it. He looked spectacular, his powerful shoulders emphasised by the cut of his expensive suit, his tie a bold splash of designer silk.
‘Nice tie,’ she said flatly, turning away quickly but not quite quickly enough. He’d seen the tears on her cheeks and he gave a soft curse and strode over to her. ‘Make me understand,’ he ordered in a thickened tone. ‘I want to know what you were doing at the Retreat. I want to understand why you ran away and I want to understand why you lied to me.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Bella said wearily. ‘Why don’t you just go and do whatever it is you do. It’s over. I get the message. You don’t need to hammer it home.’ She heard him catch his breath.
‘You are on the front page of every British newspaper,’ he growled. ‘You are “Bad Bella.” You’re the “terrible twin.”’
Bella flinched—each ghastly headline felt as though he were throwing a brick at her. ‘So why are you asking me? It should be quite obvious to a man of your intelligence why I didn’t tell you who I was.’
‘Why were you at the Retreat?’
She gave a hollow laugh. ‘You obviously weren’t concentrating when you read the newspapers.’
‘There were rather a lot of them.’
‘My father sent me away to think about my life.’
‘A task at which you were clearly a spectacular failure.’
Feeling attacked, Bella drew her knees up to her chest. ‘Absolutely. I’m pretty much a disaster at everything I touch. But that’s what everyone expects and I hate to disappoint them.’ Her flippant tone concealed oceans of agony and suddenly she was afraid she wasn’t going to hold it together in front of him. She needed to drive him away. ‘Look, this thing between us—it was just a fling. We both knew it wasn’t anything else. You’re not my type.’
‘And you’re certainly not mine.’
She gave a half-smile. ‘Finally we agree on something. So let’s just move on with our lives, Your Highness.’
There was a long, protracted silence. ‘I expected to find you on your laptop. You were desperate to be taken back to civilisation. You used every trick up your sleeve to persuade me to bring you to Al-Rafid.’
At the beginning. Bella had to bite her lip to stop herself from reminding him that by the end she’d used every trick she knew to persuade him not to bring her back.
How did she tell him that she felt utterly defeated? That nothing that had happened in her life so far had felt a fraction as painful as the fact that he was sending her away.
‘Look at me, Kate!’ He muttered under his breath and jabbed his fingers through his hair. ‘I mean, Bella.’
Something in his tone made her turn her head and, in that single painful look, they shared something so honest that the feeling drove the breath from her lungs. The seconds stretched into a minute and still the tension pulsated between them until Bella lost her grip on control.
‘Zafiq—’
‘No.’ He snarled the word like an animal in pain and stepped away from her as if she were infectious. ‘That is not possible.’
Bella felt as though someone had crushed her heart with a brick. ‘Right. No. Of course it isn’t. Silly me.’ The pain in her throat was almost intolerable and she swallowed hard, trying to dispel the lump as he strode towards the door.
‘There is a flight to England tomorrow afternoon. You’re booked on it.’
Bella’s heart dropped and she felt a sudden rush of panic. It suddenly dawned on her that he actually was sending her home. ‘No!’ For a moment she forgot to be cool or dismissive. She forgot to pretend she didn’t care what was happening. She forgot everything except the fact that he was sending her back to England.
And suddenly she realised how calm and relaxed she’d felt in the desert with Zafiq. She’d discovered a side of herself she hadn’t known existed. And now he was sending her back to her old life. There would be mirrors and bottles of conditioner, make-up
and the whole of her wardrobe. Even without her allowance, she knew she could earn money. A single magazine shoot would make her enough money to survive for several months.
She’d be back to being Bad Bella Balfour.
And the paparazzi would hound her. It didn’t matter what she did, everyone would think the worst of her because that’s what they always did.
And the thought sickened her.
She didn’t want to use her family name to make money.
She didn’t want to use her family name at all.
‘Whatever we shared is over.’ Zafiq spoke with a brutal frankness that cut like the lash of a whip but Bella was past caring about pride and dignity.
‘Don’t send me back!’ She jumped off the window seat and sprinted across to him, grabbing his arm with her fingers.
He shook her off, his eyes cold. ‘We had sex, Bella. Nothing more. And don’t pretend you’re a stranger to that type of relationship.’
She didn’t bother correcting him.
‘You don’t understand—’ Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat and tried again. ‘I—I’m begging you, Zafiq. Don’t send me back.’
His gaze was hard and unsympathetic. ‘What? No flirtation? Have you decided to go straight to feminine tears and bypass your usual seduction routine?’
‘I don’t blame you for thinking that way,’ Bella whispered, ‘but this is different. I’m not putting on an act. I—I can’t go back. The press will destroy me, and my family has had enough bad publicity because of me. I just want to stay out of the way.’
‘Then go and visit Europe.’
‘I don’t have the money—’ Her face was scarlet and Zafiq made a contemptuous sound. ‘So you don’t care about your family. And you’re asking me for money.’
‘No!’ Her voice rang with passion and her fingers shook as she rubbed the tears from her eyes. ‘That isn’t what I’m asking. I— Will you— I want you to give me a job.’
Stunned silence greeted her outburst and she didn’t blame him. She was as shocked as he was. ‘A job?’ Zafiq looked at her with incredulous disbelief and then started to laugh. ‘What sort of job? Chief trouble-maker?’
His lack of belief in her stung, and she lifted her chin. Now he knew she was Bella Balfour he was making the same assumptions as everyone else. ‘I wouldn’t cause trouble—’