Pursued by the Desert Prince (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Sauveterre Siblings, Book 1)

by Dani Collins

  She quickly picked her own cup off its saucer and took a bolstering sip of the one she’d doctored into a syrupy milk shake.

  The silence thickened.

  She tried to think of something to say, but her mind raced to make sense of their kiss. What had he meant about starting something new? What did he even think of her now? Her level of security on its best days had suitors running for the hills.

  He wasn’t a suitor, she reminded herself. He was an arrogant dictator who had his wires crossed. That’s why she’d grabbed his arm. She hadn’t been able to let him leave thinking the worst. Demanding the worst.

  “I wondered about the gauntlet of security I had to run in order to get in here,” he said, eyeing her thoughtfully. “I didn’t realize this was still such an issue for your family.”

  Yes, let’s talk about my sister’s kidnapping and how it continues to affect all of us. Her favorite topic.

  “We’re very vigilant about keeping it a nonissue. As you witnessed.” She was trying to forget how horrifying it had been to have her guards interrupt the best kiss of her life because she’d been too dazed by it to prevent a rookie error with the panic button.

  But she supposed the kidnapping was the reason this meeting had come about, ever rippling from the past into the future, so... Very well. There were days they revisited that dark time and this was one of them.

  As she made that decision, she was able to move behind her desk and set her coffee aside with a modicum of control. Flicking her gaze, she invited him to take a chair.

  “I’ll stand.”

  “Suit yourself. Either way I know I’ve captured your full attention.” She clasped her hands on her desktop, trying to steady herself. “I mean that literally. You won’t be allowed to leave until I say you may.”

  He snorted, but she could see she did, indeed, have his full attention. She felt the heat of his gaze like the sun at the equator.

  She swallowed. Good thing she was still wearing her pendant. Too bad he knew about it. She resisted the urge to grasp it for reassurance.

  “The advantage that you continue to possess,” she said, trying to mollify him, “is that you’re willing to refuse the clothes we’ve made for your sister. I’ve heard all you said about wanting to protect her. I feel the same toward my own sister.”

  Empathy. Step two of a hostage negotiation. This was good practice, she told herself. Another drill.

  “You’re obviously aware of the general details of Trella’s kidnapping.” She had to swallow to ease how quickly those words tightened her throat. Her knuckles gleamed like polished bone buttons, but she couldn’t make her hands relax.

  “I know what was on the news at the time, yes.”

  She glanced at him, not sure what she expected to see. Avarice, maybe. People always wanted gruesome details beyond the basics of a nine-year-old girl being set up by a math tutor as boarding school was letting out, held for five days and found by police before money changed hands. There’d been more than one probing question today from different women in Hasna’s bridal party.

  Angelique was adept at dodging those inquiries, but they rubbed like salt in a cut every single time.

  Kasim was next to impossible to read, but there was an air of patience in him, like he understood this wasn’t easy for her and was willing to wait.

  Great. Now her eyes began to sting. She was a crier, unfortunately. She already knew there would be tears later, when she spoke to her brothers. It wasn’t because she was upset by the false alarm, just that when a roller coaster like today happened, she tended to fall apart at some point as a sort of release.

  She pushed the Remind Me Later button on her breakdown and strained her back to a posture she thought might snap her in two, but was enough to keep her composure in place.

  “What’s never been made public is Sadiq’s part in helping us retrieve Trella.”

  Kasim set his cup into its saucer and placed it on the corner of her desk. Folded his arms. “Go on.”

  “You can’t simply accept that this is the reason we feel a debt to him?”

  “Your brother could give him shares in Sauveterre International, if that was the case. Your other one, the one who races, could buy him a car. Why this?”

  “Sadiq is very modest. He has refused all the different times we’ve tried to offer any sort of compensation. He doesn’t brag about his connection to our family. In every way he can, he protects our privacy. That’s why we love him.”

  She took another brief sip of her overly sweetened coffee, trying to find the right words.

  “As you’ve pointed out, his family has plenty of money. Gifting him shares would be...a gesture, not something meaningful. He’s not the least bit into cars the way Ramon is, but when your sister mentioned she was going to approach us about making her gown, Sadiq was excited that he had an in.”

  Maison des Jumeaux wasn’t exclusive because it was expensive—although it was obscenely so. No, their clothes were coveted because she and Trella were extremely selective about the clients they took on, always protecting their own privacy first. Gossipy socialites didn’t even get an appointment, let alone an original ball gown with a hand-sewn signature label.

  “Sadiq only prevailed on our friendship to ask that we accept her as a client, but of course we wanted to do it and of course we wouldn’t charge him. He wanted to pay. I think the only reason he’s letting us get away with not charging is because it’s really Hasna who benefits, not him. For Trella, it’s a way to repay Sadiq herself. It’s very important to all of us, for her sake, that she be allowed to do that.”

  It was part of her sister’s healing process. Attending the wedding had become a goal Trella was determined to achieve, come hell or high water.

  “Is your sister having an affair with him?”

  “That’s what you got from everything I just said? No! And neither is my mother, before you go there. Family money paid for the materials and Trella and I are doing the work. This isn’t a buy off or an attempt to hold something over Sadiq. We’re contributing to his special day in the way that makes him happiest. That’s all.”

  He pondered that with a raspy scrape of his bent fingers beneath his jaw.

  “You still don’t believe me?” What on earth would it take?

  “How did he help solve the kidnapping? How old was he? Fifteen? Sixteen?” His voice was thick with skepticism. “How well did he even know your family? I understood he only went to Switzerland when he began prepping for university.”

  “I trust this conversation won’t leave this room? Because the police asked us to keep it confidential and we always have. We never speak publicly about the kidnapping because there are many details we wish to keep private.”

  “Of course,” he muttered testily, as though he was insulted she would question his integrity.

  “You know Sadiq is a bit of a computer whiz? Well, the internet was quite young and few tools had been developed for online sleuthing. It probably wouldn’t even be legal now, the kind of hacking he’d done, but who cares? We have him to thank for Trella’s return. And you’re right that he only knew of us. We weren’t friends yet. He was in a few classes with my brothers, but when Trella was taken, he was on the steps beside Ramon. He saw it happen and was horrified. He wanted to help and used his own time, hours and hours I might add, to create software code that produced a lead that panned out for the police. If you want more information, you can take it up with Sadiq.”

  The truth was, Sadiq was a security specialist. He’d merely been a nerd with a passion at that time, but now it was his private business—literally his confidential side job that she only knew about because her family had introduced him to the man who had the contract for their own security. She didn’t know if even Hasna was aware that Sadiq wrote code for Tec-Sec Industries.

  “There a
ren’t many people we trust unequivocally, but Sadiq is one of them. He didn’t do us a favor. He saved my sister’s life. So if he wants me to make dresses for your sister for the rest of my life, I will. Happily. Without checking with you first.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  KASIM HADN’T EXPECTED her to admit outright that she had had an affair with Sadiq, but he hadn’t expected an explanation like this, either. It shed an entirely different light on things. He couldn’t help but believe her.

  Of course, she had done her best to scramble his brain with that kiss, so he forced himself to proceed cautiously.

  “I’ll allow that Sadiq is what the Americans call a ‘geek.’ He is very modest and I’ve seen that do-good streak. He always seems sincere in his kindness toward Hasna. I can believe he would take it upon himself to help a stranger’s family. But I will check this with him,” he warned.

  “Be my guest!”

  Sadiq would back her story regardless. It was a far more tasteful explanation than admitting he’d had an affair with her. It was more tasteful to him, Kasim acknowledged darkly.

  “I may have to relay some of this to my parents.” He was sorry now that his mother knew anything about this. She had already used the waiving of payment to stir up his father, basking in the importance of being the one to inform the king that there might be a scandal attached to their daughter’s wedding. She could easily have put the wedding itself in jeopardy in her quest for her husband’s attention, ever in competition with the king’s consort, Fatina.

  It was exhausting and, given his father’s blood pressure and enlarged heart, Kasim expected his mother to show more sense. It was almost as if she was trying to provoke a heart attack. Maybe she was. Hell hath no fury, as the saying went, but at least he could defuse her latest damage with this information.

  “If that’s what it takes to keep both our sisters from suffering profound disappointment, fine,” Angelique said stiffly, rising. “I trust they will also keep that information confidential.”

  “They will,” he promised, brushing aside politics at home as he realized she was trying to kick him out.

  He wasn’t ready to leave.

  His mind had barely left their kiss. The way she had responded like a boxer coming into a ring had been exhilarating.

  “Have dinner with me,” he said.

  “Pah! Are you serious?” She blinked her mossy eyes at him. “Why?”

  It was a completely singular reaction. Women cozied up to him and begged for an invitation to dine with him.

  “We have more to talk about.”

  “Like?”

  He dropped his gaze to the pink-stained tissue crumpled on her desk.

  She blushed, but it wasn’t all embarrassment. There was memory there, too. One that made her flush into her chest. The knowledge she was growing aroused again stimulated all the latent signals of his own desire.

  Angelique looked away. “That was a mistake.”

  “It was an effective distraction,” he allowed.

  Her gaze flashed back to his. “That was not what I was trying to do.”

  He shrugged. “Nevertheless, it put certain possibilities on the table.” He was already imagining that same explosive passion colliding on silk sheets. Or this desk she stood behind.

  “I can’t,” she dismissed crisply.

  “Why not?” A thought struck. “Are you in a relationship?” He tensed, dismayed.

  “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I was, would I?”

  “I don’t know.” He relaxed, starting to enjoy that pique of hers. It put a pretty glow in her eyes and revealed the intoxicating passion he’d tasted on her lips. “This is why we should have dinner. So we can get to know one another.”

  “Are you in a relationship?” she shot back.

  “No.” He scowled, not used to anyone asking questions so direct and personal.

  She relaxed slightly, but her brow quickly crinkled in consternation. “Do you want to talk more about Sadiq? You still don’t believe me?”

  “I want to go on a date, Angelique. I would think that was obvious.”

  “A date.”

  How could that take her aback? She actually retreated a half step. Her brows gave a surprised twitch, then, oddly, she looked uncertain. She dropped her gaze to her desktop. Bashful?

  “I rarely date.”

  “Then it should be a treat to have dinner with me.”

  She laughed, which might have been offensive if she didn’t have such a pretty, engaging laugh. Her enjoyment was genuine and thorough. At his expense.

  “I won’t apologize.” She held up a hand as she noted the way he folded his arms and set his teeth. “It wasn’t your conceit that got to me so much as the painful truth of that remark. You have no idea.”

  Conceit? He’d been stating a fact.

  She ran a fingertip beneath her eye, smile lingering.

  “In gratitude for that exceptionally good chuckle, I’ll spare you some pain. I attract a lot of attention. I’m really not worth the trouble to take out. I know this because I’ve been told so more than once.” Her amusement faded to something more sincere. Resigned. Maybe even a tad wistful and hurt.

  He started to say they could dine alone at his penthouse, then recalled his Paris residence was overrun by his mother and sisters and assorted female relatives.

  “Your place then,” he said.

  She shook her head, but there seemed to be some regret there. “Trella counts on certain spaces being kept private and our flat here is one of them.”

  That devotion to her sister kept getting to him. The second nature of it. He understood it very well and had to like her for it.

  “Dining in public it is, then.”

  She grew very grave. “I’m serious, Kasim. My sort of notoriety is a punishment. You would be tarred as my lover overnight.”

  “Since I intend to spend the night with you, where is the harm?”

  “Do you?” she scoffed, flushing with indignation. And stirred sensuality.

  He saw the deepening of her color and the swirl of speculation behind her gaze. The way she swallowed and licked her lips. Her nipples rose against the light silk of her top and filmy jacket.

  He smiled with anticipation.

  “That’s rather overconfident, isn’t it?” she said snippily.

  “Don’t act surprised, Angelique.” He flicked his gaze down to the breasts that had flattened against his chest, the pelvis that had pressed into the thrust of his. “We’re very well matched and both intrigued to see where this could go. If you’re so eager you don’t want to go to dinner first, we can progress to that discovery right here and now. Provided you remove your necklace first.”

  Her chin was not so narrow as to be pointed, but not so round as to be girlish. It was as perfect as the rest of her. She set it into a stubborn angle and said, “Punishment it is.”

  She marched past him to the door.

  “Maurice,” she said as she swung the door open. “A card, please. I’ll be dining with the prince later. Would you be kind enough to send someone to scout the restaurant of his choosing?”

  She relayed the card to Kasim as he came up behind her. If he wished to be so forward, her glare spat at him, he could suffer the wrath of her celebrité.

  He wasn’t scared. His worst family secret had been painstakingly—and yes, agonizingly—buried. Reports that he had affairs with beautiful women only aided that particular cause.

  “Your men can call that number with the details,” Angelique said.

  He pocketed the card thoughtfully. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “No need. My security will deliver me.”

  “So cautious.” He felt the seeds of irritation forming. Perhaps he didn’t care about the notoriety she p
rovoked, but the triple-A level of security could become tiresome. “It’s a test?” he guessed. If the arrangements for a simple dinner were too much for him, he was not prepared for the rest of the way she lived, she seemed to be conveying.

  “It’s my reality,” she said with a flat smile.

  * * *

  He annoyed me.

  That was the only reason Angelique had agreed to dinner.

  Or so she told herself.

  And repeated to Trella, when her sister rang through on the tablet before she’d got round to calling Henri.

  “What’s going on with you?” Trella demanded with a troubled frown. “I’m feeling... I don’t know. Restless. Keyed up. Henri texted that your blip was a false alarm, but was it more serious?”

  She and her sister didn’t keep much from one another. There was no point. They read each other too well.

  Not that they were psychic. Angelique never feared Trella could peer into her private moments, but they had an uncanny connection. Despite whatever distance might separate them, they were eerily aware of the other’s emotional temperature. They knew if the other was happy or sad, angry or scared.

  It was one of the reasons Angelique was encouraged to believe Trella was actually getting better this time. The Sauveterres were all paranoid to a point, but for Trella, terror had become her constant companion and a very debilitating one. She didn’t want to fall apart with anxiety attacks, but for years they had struck without mercy and Angelique had always been aware when they did. It hadn’t helped her own sensitive nature one little bit.

  Living a cloistered life had leveled out the worst of Trella’s episodes, but now she was trying to overcome her fear of being in public so she could go to Sadiq’s wedding. It wasn’t so much fear of actually being around people or in the public eye that held her back, but fear that any change in her routine would trigger fresh attacks. So it was proving to be a “two steps forward, one back” process, but she was getting there.

  Angelique was just as worried that anything could cause Trella to backslide, so she was very firm in stating, “Today was me being an idiot. That’s all.”