The Sheikh's Convenient Mistress: What he needed from her went well beyond the call of duty... (The Henderson Sister Series Book 2)

by Clare Connelly

  “I …”

  “I was scared, Olivia. You changed me. You made me feel like nothing mattered but you and us. When my father had his heart attack, I was angry. I was angry at my father because his situation meant I had to leave you. That scared me to pieces. I have lived my life with a pledge of loyalty to my father and his crown, and yet you usurped that instantly. You offered to come, and I was so tempted. I knew that if I didn’t leave instantly, I would have said yes. But I didn’t understand then. I thought you would be travelling to Dashan as my lover. That I would be exposing you to ridicule and censure. I thought that in leaving you I was protecting you.”

  “But …”

  “I left you, and I felt sick. I felt an ache in my gut that has not gone away. I have been driven crazy with missing you. Every decision since then has been wrong. I admit it. I want you to look in your heart and see me for who I am. Look beyond this mad act of a crazed man in love and see the person you know me to be. Make your decision on your instincts alone.

  “I am a good man, and I offer you my life and loyalty. I serve you now, and for always, Olivia.”

  His words made love spiral through her veins. The anger she’d held onto for days was ebbing away. Because he was right. He was a good man. And she couldn’t help but see him for who he truly was. Temptation sparked fiercely inside of her. But she wasn’t yet ready to admit her acceptance. She was no fool, and marrying a man like Zamir was a decision that no one could take lightly.

  And so she shrugged her shoulders and angled her face away from his. “I need time to think.”

  With the certainty that he was saying goodbye for the second time to the love of his life, he nodded. He could only hope this time it would not be for good.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  That night, Olivia dreamed of her home.

  She was in the vineyards she’d grown up in, running her fingers over the soft leaves of spring, feeling their green newness brush against her touch. They were slightly furry and they smelled of sunshine. The earth was dusty and warm beneath her bare feet, and insects buzzed contentedly in the ocean breeze.

  Olivia could almost have reached out and touched her past, so vivid was the dream. She began to skip, further down the lane of vines, until a noise caught her attention. She spun around, and saw him.

  Zamir.

  Not as he was now, but as she imagined he had been as a young boy. Enormous golden eyes, shining earnestly in his face, and a sombre expression on his handsome features.

  Her heart clenched, for this little boy was inside of the man she loved.

  Olivia walked towards him and held a hand out. He put his in hers and she felt then the burst of understanding.

  She woke with a start. The room was dark; the stars, though they shone bright, cast no light, and the moon was only a tiny sliver of colour in the sky.

  Her breathing was rushed.

  Zamir.

  A king in the making. A man who shouldered the world’s worries on his shoulders. A man who loved her. Who had made mistakes, because he was more than just a King. He was human.

  He had lost the first love of his life when he was only a boy. Had loving Olivia opened up those fears in him anew?

  She slipped her arms into the silk robe that hung beside her bed and moved through the apartment.

  Only Olivia had no idea where Zamir slept. She crept from one room to the other, finding nothing but empty beds. At the very end of the corridor, there was a staircase, and she climbed it slowly.

  It led to another floor upstairs. The layout was identical, but the room formation was different. Some of these were bedrooms, but many were sitting rooms or formal state rooms. The fifth room along had a wedge of golden light flicking from under the door.

  It could only be Zamir.

  She pushed it inwards without knocking, and caught him in an unguarded moment. He was staring at the window, his body in profile. And his face was set in a mask of deep and perplexing thought.

  Olivia moved to him, and without speaking, she lifted a finger to his lips. Her eyes met his, then she dropped her hand to link her fingers through his. A breeze rustled in the window and stirred her hair around her face.

  He scanned her expression with both hope and fear. Was he about to have his worst fears confirmed? Or all his hopes in the world answered?

  “I don’t know what to say to you,” she said finally, a small smile on her lips. “I’m so angry with you! I can’t believe what an idiot you’ve been.”

  He closed his eyes. “Nor can I, believe me.”

  “I have only ever loved one person. One man. That’s you.” She bit down on her lip. “When you left Vegas, I almost fell apart, Zamir. I’m not prone to melodrama, but you need to understand the power you have over me. You left, and a huge part of me died. I was beyond miserable. I was unrecognisable. I couldn’t eat or drink or think, or sleep.”

  He couldn’t help but drag his eyes over her too-skinny frame with a gnawing sense of guilt.

  “It is my biggest regret. I look back on that night and I want to reach back through time to shake myself. How could I have been so stupid?”

  “You can’t go back in time,” she murmured, remembering her conversations with Ra’if.

  “I know that. And I’m failing completely to fix the present,” he said with a frustrated quality to his words. “I will do whatever you ask of me, but please, tell me what I can do.”

  “Yes. That’s what I came here for.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, and with it, she breathed in courage and faith, trust and hope. She pushed out worry and doubt, anger and resentment. And then she smiled up at him, the man she loved. The man who was so inexperienced with love that he had been wrong-footed almost the entire way.

  “I want to see that ring again.”

  His eyes widened.

  “But not now; not just yet.” She lifted a hand and put it on his heart “You asked what I need of you? I need you to think. To really, truly think about what you want.”

  He nodded slowly.

  “If you give me that ring again, I need to know that you mean to make me the happiest I’ve ever been. I do love you, Zamir.” She smiled tentatively when he let out a huge breath of relief. “But if you offer me that ring I need to know that I’m making a good decision. That you understand that I’m trusting you again, and that you have hurt me in a way I don’t ever want to feel again. I need you to admit, in giving me that ring, that you won’t ever break my heart like you did when you left Vegas.” She bit down on her lower lip. “We were never a vase that could be broken, so much as a vase that is constantly changing to house different flowers. What we were in Vegas is not what we are now. We’ve both changed. You changed me, as I did you. I’ve grown. But love isn’t something that can easily pass, and I don’t want it to. I love you in a way that I will carry with me always. If you promise to be respectful of that love, I will share it with you again.”

  He opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head. “Not now. Think now. You say you left Vegas without thinking. You brought me here without thinking. Do not let our marriage be something else you do without thinking. For God’s sake, be sure. Be sure when I see you next.”

  She walked away from him, and anxiety and uncertainty were filling up her body; but there was hope too, and happiness.

  “And Zamir? You should probably speak to your father first. I don’t think he’s going to be happy about this.”

  As soon as the dawn rays punctured the steel sky, he went to speak to Faisal. The older man had always been an early riser and this morning was no exception. He sat by the window, reading quietly. At the sound of Zamir’s approach, he placed a finger in between the pages and closed the book.

  “Father,” Zamir said respectfully. He rarely called him by this title, and it caused Faisal’s brows to lift expectantly.

  “You know why I have come to see you.”

  “Ah, yes. The American who does not
love you,” he cackled. The joke was one only he understood.

  Zamir was impatient. “Olivia, yes.”

  “Well, you had better sit down and tell me, then.”

  Zamir took the chair opposite. He was not nervous, but he was anxious to break the news to his father, so that he could go to Olivia and beg her to put him out of his misery.

  “I have asked her to marry me. She is … considering it,” he said with a laugh.

  Faisal supressed his smile. “She insists she does not love you.”

  “With good reason; but she does.”

  “I suspected as much. She was very careful not to tell me what a pig-headed bastard you’ve been to her.”

  Zamir shook his head. “More consideration and courtesy than I deserve.”

  “I believe so.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to meet someone like her. She is … breathtaking.”

  “Yes,” Faisal nodded. “She is quite impressive.”

  “I am going to marry her, if she’ll have me.”

  “Good.” The Sultan nodded. “A marriage to a princess from a neighbouring country would have been wiser. But it would not have made you so happy.”

  Zamir frowned. “I thought you wouldn’t approve.”

  “No, nor did I,” he said with a shrug. “Yet I do.”

  “What changed?”

  “I met her. And I remembered what it is like to love a woman you shouldn’t. Your mother was not the smart choice, Zamir. But she was the right choice. She made me happy.” A frown marred his features. “She gave me my sons. And then she left me; she left us all.”

  He sighed heavily. “Losing her almost killed me, son. I had thought that in urging you to marry someone you do not know, I would be protecting you from the pain her death has filled me with. But that is both selfish and foolish. I would live with this pain for five lifetimes, for even a month of the happiness I felt with your mother.”

  Zamir felt emotion swell in his chest.

  “The future is a great unknown, but only a fool would close a door without walking through it.”

  Zamir nodded. “I tried to walk away from her. I know that’s not what I’m meant to do.”

  Faisal nodded sagely. “I expect you’ll want a wedding to be arranged quickly?”

  “You’d better believe it.”

  Having been given the glimmer of a second chance, Zamir immediately railed against the idea of waiting any longer.

  He found Olivia in the same courtyard they’d met in the previous day. She had chosen a cream gown and had left her hair flowing loose. She looked like a princess already.

  Zamir was almost breathless at the sight of her. Without a word, he crossed the ground and knelt before her. He had no need for long, flowery speeches. They both knew perfectly how the other felt. All that had to be ascertained was whether or not Olivia could forgive him. Whether she was brave enough to trust him with her happiness. “Olivia Henderson, will you marry me?”

  Her eyes sparkled and her smile was glorious. “You bet I will.”

  His fingers shook as he slid the ring onto her hand. It was a simple gold band, cast from some of the oldest gems in the land. It was the perfect size for Olivia; almost as if it had been waiting for her.

  * * *

  25 December, 7.13am

  From: Olivia

  To: Ava, Sophie

  I know I’ve been terrible with emails lately.

  I’m sorry, but when you read this, you’re going to understand. I’ve met someone. Someone special.

  Oh boy, I hope you’re both sitting down.

  Because I’ve just agreed to marry him.

  And that’s not even the shocking part…

  She smiled as she hit send, imagining what her sisters’ reactions would be when they learned she was going to become Sheikha of a country like Dashan. She thought of the Sultan’s words in describing his wife, and they took on a whole new clarity for Olivia.

  She had travelled the world, and never felt satisfied. But the air of Dashan was soothing to her soul. Here, surrounded by desert, with the man she loved at her side, she was truly home.

  And she’d never felt happier.

  THE END

  Following is an excerpt from THE GREEK’S MARRIAGE REVENGE by Clare Connelly, book one in THE HENDERSON SISTER SERIES.

  THE GREEK’S MARRIAGE REVENGE

  Clare Connelly

  All the characters in this book are fictitious and have no existence outside the author’s imagination. They have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names and are pure invention.

  All rights reserved. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reprinted by any means without permission of the Author.

  The illustration on the cover of this book features model/s and bears no relation to the characters described within.

  First published 2015

  (c) Clare Connelly

  Photo Credit: dollarphotoclub.com/Aleksandr Doodko

  Contact Clare:

  http://www.clareconnelly.co.uk

  Blog: http://clarewriteslove.wordpress.com/

  Email: Clareconnelly@outlook.com

  Follow Clare Connelly on facebook for all the latest.

  Join Clare’s Newsletter to stay up to date on all the latest CC news. http://www.clareconnelly.co.uk/subscribe.html

  PROLOGUE.

  Twenty years earlier.

  “I’m so hungry,” Helena shivered, her frail seven-year-old frame curled over like a conch shell. The rain was lashing in from every direction, but she had the most sheltered spot in the litter-strewn street. Beneath a threadbare awning, her grotty face dry, her matted hair only a little damp; it was the best Alessandro could do.

  “I’m going to find you something to eat,” Alex swore with more determination than clue. “And one day, Helena, we’re going to live like Kings.”

  Helena’s teeth chattered. “I-I-I’m not a boy.”

  “No,” he agreed, looking from one direction to the other. The commuters were still drifting down the cobbled laneway. It was too early. Soon, though, he’d head out to the restaurant precinct and take what he could. Discarded meals, ignored wallets. Anything that would keep his little sister going. It was harder for her. She was so skinny her bones were protruding through her olive skin; he was big and strong, despite the hunger that constantly gnawed at his gut. He’d got used to it. At fourteen, he could rationalise it. He could tell himself it was temporary.

  Alessandro Petrides was determined not to let homelessness, poverty or fear control him.

  He sat down beside Helena and the dirty street water soaked through his already sodden pants. “You need to think your way out of this. Imagine yourself on a tropical beach. Imagine you’re warm and dry and your belly is full of food.”

  “But I’m so hungry I could die.”

  “Don’t die,” Alex responded jokingly, but inside, his heart was breaking. For three years he’d fought for them. He’d kept them alive, but they weren’t really living. What kind of existence was this? “I’d miss you.”

  “You’d only have one of us to feed though.”

  How could his sweet little Helena have such a sad understanding of their state in the world? He put an arm around her shoulders. “I’d give my last meal to you, Helena. You know that.” He kissed her head. “It’s just you and me, okay? We’re going to be fine.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’m your brother. It’s my job to look after you.”

  “But …”

  “No buts,” he contradicted. “Forever and ever, whatever you need, I will be there for you.” He nudged her with his body. “Just promise me you won’t quit.”

  * * *

  Twenty years later.

  “There is no way your husband is cheating on you, Helena. You are being paranoid.”

  “I’m not!” The agony in his sister’s voice reached him, across the continent to his palatial home on the ragged cliffs of Corfu.

  “Of
course you are. I know Eric. He is one of my oldest friends. He is a good man.”

  “Trust you to defend him!”

  Alex exhaled a long, slow breath and tried to bring his impatience to order. “If he has slept around, believe me, Helena, I will be the first to condemn his behaviour. But you have no proof.”

  “I don’t need proof.”

  Alex shook his head ruefully. Beneath him, the moon bathed the cresting waves of the Ionian in a pale milky glow.

  “You haven’t seen her.”

  “The nanny?” Alex scoffed. For Eric Sandhurst was hardly the kind of man to sleep around with menials in his employ.

  “Yes, the nanny.” It was a hiss from between her teeth. “Sophie bloody Henderson. All perfect, blonde, five foot nothing of her.”

  Alex ran a hand over the back of his neck, dragging his fingers through the dark hair that curled a little at his nape. “Then your solution is simple. If you truly believe this to be true, fire her.”

  “I tried! Eric won’t let me!” Her voice was becoming higher in pitch; her tone obviously desperate.

  Alex’s dark eyes, almost as dark and shimmering as the night sky beyond him, were focussed on a trawler in the distance. The nets were lowering, and the boat was lurching in the movements of the current.

  “It is a domestic decision. You do not need to listen to him. He is barely around to object, I should have thought.”

  “That might have been the case before we hired her, but now? He’s like a love-sick puppy. He follows her to the park with the children. He makes sure he is home for story time. They curl in the bed together and read to the boys. Please, Alessandro, you know I would not trouble you with this if I were not truly afraid for my marriage.”