Nikki was lousy with emotional pain. She’d dealt with the deaths of her children in the worst possible way, and she had no intention of reliving the agony. Or the downward spiral.
But Zakir was making her feel it all again. The urge to flee suddenly swelled even more fiercely and determinedly in her.
She’d tell him now, before it was too late. Before she brought both their worlds crashing down around them.
Nikki spun around, grabbed a robe from the back of the door. Belting the silk tightly across her waist, she hesitated, sucked in a breath, then exited the bathroom.
“Zakir, I—” Words fled from her as she saw him lying back on the bed, buck naked, his arm hooked under his head. He was watching her intensely while a smile curved wickedly at the corners of his mouth.
His erection stirred as she neared, and his smile deepened. “You see what you do to me, Nikki?”
She swallowed, losing her train of thought, disturbed by the way her own body was already reawakening, stirring at the sight of his sexual arousal. Making her want him again. Making her need him.
She didn’t want to feel like this.
Zakir got up suddenly, even more powerful in dark naked ness than clothed with a scimitar at his hip. He came toward her, black hair falling loose on shoulders, supple Mediterranean skin gleaming in the sunlight, the dark hair on his chest tapering into a sensual line to his navel and then flaring out lower at his pelvis.
He held his hand out to her. “Come outside with me, Nikki,” he spoke softly, rolling his Arabic words into a sensual murmur. She hesitated.
But he took her hand anyway. “Come into the sun with me, come swim in my pool.”
Nikki did not trust herself to speak as she allowed the king to lure her into his private garden.
He stepped into the pool and ducked under the surface of the water, coming up with droplets sparkling on his skin, his dark hair slicked back and his black eyes laughing.
He made love to her again under the waterfall, and they lay naked under the blue sky. She watched the doves in the trees and felt the sun warm her skin.
Nikki never wanted this to end. She wished she could hide in this sensual limbo forever. Safe and far away. But as the sky turned pink and orange, Zakir turned to her and said quietly, “You’ve had a child, Nikki.”
She went cold, dead inside.
Images of the highway, the snow. Her babies, the funerals, the little coffins, the court cases… Nikki inhaled deeply, suddenly distant, unable to speak. She reached for the silk robe, slipped it on and got to her feet.
He stilled her by grasping her hand. “This child is not with you, which means you have…lost it, somehow?”
She bit her lip to stop from letting any emotion out. She nodded in silence, belting the robe, eyes bone-dry, itchy.
He waited, his black eyes burning questions into her, and in his features Nikki read not the anger of a man who’d been lied to but empathy, tenderness.
That was the worst. It made her want to crack and tell him everything, but she couldn’t. Not until she was safely out of the country.
“Is this why you save other children?”
She glanced up sharply. Silence hung for several beats. “I…should go check on them, Zakir. I… Samira’s contractions have not returned. The baby is still eight weeks away. She…she’ll be safe to travel by morning.” She sucked air in deep, steeling herself for this new course of action. “If you will give us a pilot and helicopter to take us to the port, it would be easiest on her. From there we’ll take a boat, and you can tell the King’s Council that the betrothal is over.”
His features turned dark.
But before he could say anything, she walked out, pulling the door closed behind her.
Zakir blew out a breath of frustration. But he let her go. He lay back, closed his eyes, swearing softly to himself. He’d tried so hard not to scare her away as he delved into her secrets. He’d tried to make it good for her. It looked as though he’d just failed.
In so many more ways than one.
And now that he’d failed to persuade her to stay of her own accord, he couldn’t allow her to go. He could not let her break off this betrothal until his new wife was lined up.
Or he could lose his country.
Chapter 14
For the rest of the afternoon, Zakir attended to pressing military strategy in his office. Two of his army generals had flown in, and together they had discussed the new highly sensitive satellite communications bases that had been covertly installed in the desert. Most of stations were hidden below-ground, in bunkers, and were invisible from the air. But all through the discussion, Zakir’s mind was never far from Nikki.
He told himself that it was good to spend time away from her—she needed time alone to digest things. Clearly she’d confronted a milestone in her life—sleeping with a man again. And she’d suffered the deep loss of a child in her past, under circumstances that Zakir could see she was not yet ready to talk about. He argued that this was the only reason she’d said that she wanted to leave tomorrow.
She’d calm down and come to her senses by dinner.
He hoped.
Because if she didn’t, he was in a bind. Having his “fiancée” walk out on him was going to create serious credibility problems with the King’s Council. He was going to have to find a way to make her change her mind—carefully, with the skill of a military strategist.
If he failed, he’d be left with no choice but to hold her captive for a short while. Until he married someone else.
Or he could lose his throne.
But suddenly, the throne, his country, his future…didn’t seem quite as clear without Nikki in it, and Zakir realized he enjoyed being with her more than he’d cared to admit. She was like a bright beacon of promise in the darkness that lay ahead. A light against his looming threat of blindness. He realized he wanted Nikki to stay…because he needed her, quite apart from the role she was serving in helping him secure his throne.
This irked him.
As soon as his generals left his office for the guest wing of the palace, Zakir picked up his phone and dialed Tariq.
“Any word on the Nikki Hunt investigation?”
“Not yet,” said Tariq.
“She’s had a child. Tell the investigators to add that into the mix. There will be birth records somewhere.”
He hung up and dialed again, pacing agitatedly as he waited for his emissary in Paris to pick up.
“Zakir,” the man said. “I’m pleased you called. I have just finished the interviews and will have the list of the top twenty candidates to you by the end of next week. From there you can select the top ten who will—”
“That will no longer do.” He cut the man short. “I want you yourself to pick just the top five tonight and have them on a plane to Al Na’Jar by morning. Arrange for them to stay at the Sahara Sun. And do not breathe a word to the staff at the Sun, nor to any media. No one can know who these women are or why they’re in my country.”
Especially Nikki. Not after they’d made love. There was something fragile developing between them, and Zakir didn’t want to crush it.
“And they must not communicate with anyone. I’ll arrange for a male interpreter. He can speak for them. Understand?”
He signed off, blood pressure high again. And his left eye blurred, then went dark. With shock his right eye started to blur, as well. Zakir gripped the back of his chair and stood still, trying to calm himself until his vision returned. This time it took well over an hour. The episodes were coming closer and closer together. His time was running out.
Late that night while dining under the stars with bright torches flaming in wall sconces, the vision in Zakir’s left eye began to fail yet again. A higher dose of medication had done little to help, and fear that total blindness was imminent any hour hovered, circled with the dancing night shadows.
He didn’t like the ominous shift he sensed in Nikki’s demeanor, either.
Her co
nversation was cool, stilted, as if she’d shut down, locked him out. Zakir felt hot, irritable, frustrated.
“Do you want to tell me about it, Nikki?”
She glanced up slowly.
Again she’d declined his offer of a glass of fine wine. He wished she would drink—it would relax her, too.
“You mean about my C-section scar?”
He nodded, watching her intently with his right eye as he sipped his wine.
“I lost my child in an accident, Zakir,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to talk about it, or remember it. And it’s not your concern, irrespective of what you say about your country, because I’ll be gone by tomorrow.”
His pulse kicked and his chest tightened. He set his glass down slowly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Please, stay. It will be better for Samira, and you know it. The obstetrician will be here before long.”
“You know a lot about women, don’t you, Zakir?” she said quietly.
“Because I know the meaning of such a scar?”
“I don’t think every man would recognize it for what it is.”
“I’m not every man.”
“No. You’re not.” Her words were crisp. “You’re privileged royalty, an international bachelor playboy driven by sexual conquests. I saw the magazine stories, the photos. They call you the tycoon, playboy sheik.”
“Where—” his voice was cool, cautious “—did you see these stories?”
“I asked the palace staff for Internet access through the satellite system this afternoon.”
“And they gave it to you?”
“Why shouldn’t they? Am I some sort of prisoner? You’ve made it public that we are betrothed, Zakir. Your staff thus believes I have your trust. So why should they not trust me, too?”
A dark foreboding began to rise in him. “What did you see, Nikki?” he said, very quietly. “What were you looking for?”
She said nothing.
Several beats of silence passed. Hot wind guttered the flames in sconces, making them crackle, making shadows writhe ominously over the patio. Zakir pressed his fingers to his left temple. “Tell me,” he said again, “what you were searching for.”
She cast her eyes down for a moment and inhaled deeply. “I haven’t read a newspaper in six years, Zakir. I don’t know what’s going on in the world. And I wanted to see what news there was of Mauritania and the rebel movement there.”
And I wanted to see what Sam was up to, where he was now, how much more powerful he might have become. Because you’re making my past come closer, and I’m afraid.
“You could have just asked me. I would get you any information you wanted.”
“And while on the laptop,” she continued, “I…searched your name, on impulse. I wanted to know more about you.”
“And?”
She set her napkin carefully on the table. “I saw that you’re a serial womanizer, Zakir, with ridiculously extravagant tastes and far too much cash to blow on nightclubs, cars, helicopters, yachts. I saw who you really are—”
“Who I was,” he snapped. “I have made no secret of this, Nikki. And I am not that man now.”
She lifted her eyes slowly, and he sensed a very real vulnerability under her harsh words. Zakir’s heart torqued. She cared. That was why she’d looked him up.
A whisper of excitement curled through him, braiding with caution. Zakir had to tread very lightly and cleverly here. He did not want to lose her because of old gossip on the Internet. He needed to get her to agree to stay of her own accord. “And why have you have changed, Zakir?”
He reached across the table for her hand. “I told you why, Nikki. Coming back here to the desert, experiencing my heritage—it has shifted something fundamental in me. This on top of the loss of my mother and father, and Da’ud—” He paused. “I have a duty now. I have enemies who must pay. And Nikki,” he said, lowering his voice earnestly, “I felt nothing for those women. I loved being with them, yes, but I never got attached to any one of them. Not like now.”
“What about now?”
Now I am falling for a most unusual woman, and I don’t even really know who she is.
“Now I met you.”
Her jaw tensed. “Shall I tell you what I think really changed you, Zakir?”
“By all means, please do.” He couldn’t stop a sudden irritability from lacing into his tone. He was losing control of a very delicate situation.
She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I think it’s your impending loss of vision.”
“I am not afraid of the darkness,” he replied crisply.
“But you are afraid that you could lose your throne because of it. That’s why you’ve gone to such great lengths to hide it from everyone, isn’t it? That’s why you made me promise, out in the desert while we were hunting, not to tell anyone your ‘secret.’”
She hesitated, weighing her next words. “Did you know that one of the Parisian tabloids is claiming breaking news about you?”
“What news?”
“Some model apparently leaked a story late this afternoon about being interviewed as a possible wife for you. She told the magazine that you have an agent in Europe who is interviewing women for the role of queen of Al Na’Jar and that just today you sent an order to the agent to cut the search short, select the top five candidates and ship them to Al Na’Jar by morning. The article claimed you would marry one of the five within the next few weeks.”
Zakir remained dead quiet, every muscle in his body tense, simmering as he waited for Nikki to finish.
“This model claimed she’d been among the top twenty candidates, and now she’s been axed. She claimed you’d reneged on your end of the agreement by doing this, therefore she felt her confidentially clause was null and void. So she took her story to the top bidding tabloid.”
Silent fury swelled inside Zakir. So this was what had upset Nikki. His rage, however, was spiked with panic. The closer he came to losing her, the more he wanted her.
And he would not lose her.
Not to this nonsense.
“Do you know what else this model told the magazine, Zakir? Apparently, you cannot take the official oath and be sworn in as the king until you are married. You told me that the only reason you hadn’t taken the official oath was because you’d been preoccupied with stabilizing the unrest in the country. You lied to me, Zakir.”
He said nothing, not trusting himself to speak, not wanting to send her off in the wrong direction.
She leaned forward, hurt thickening her voice. “You used me. You put my name forward as your fiancée for your own security with the King’s Council while you secretly hunted for a bride in Europe. So why did you sleep with me? Just another in your string of sexual conquests?” She got to her feet, emotion glittering in her eyes. “Nikki, please—”
She raised both hands in front of her, shaking her head. “You didn’t bring me here for Samira’s safety, not at all. You lured me here using the one thing in this world that I care about—my children—just so you could save your goddamn throne. And—” her voice cracked “—and now that you’ve gone and put my name before your King’s Council, and now that I know this secret of yours…can you let me go, Zakir? Or are you going to hold me captive while you pick one of those…those models, and you can become king where nothing can touch you…not even blindness?”
He inhaled sharply. She’d pushed him onto a precipice. “Nikki, please, this is not so—”
“Then prove it! Allow me to leave. Give me a pilot and a Black Hawk. Fly me and the children all the way to Tenerife first thing in the morning.” She flung her arm out, pointing west to where the Canary Islands lay. “Please, sit.”
She remained standing, eyes defiant, body rigid.
“I can explain, Nikki. I’ll tell you everything. No secrets. Nothing more to hide between us.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right about my fear of losing the throne due to my…issue. And you’re correct about me needing a queen in
order to become king. As soon as I marry I can unilaterally change any law I choose, and no one will be able to challenge my position. So yes, after my father and Da’ud were assassinated, Tariq, Omair, Dalilah and I decided that it was best if we initiated the interviews in Europe. I hoped to sign an agreement with a woman willing to serve as my queen for a limited period of time until the monarchy was secure. Then…then I met you.” Zakir rubbed his brow, searching for the right words. He needed to go back further, to make her understand who he was and why he’d made certain choices in his life.
“Look, you must understand, Nikki. I told you I once loved a woman. I never allowed it to happen again—”
“Why not?” she asked, sitting quietly. “Tell me about this woman.”
“It started while I was still studying economics at the Sorbonne in Paris. I was young. She was very beautiful. She said her name was Lara. I dated her for two years, and we got engaged to become married.” He reached for his wine, took a deep sip. “Turned out she was a freelance operative—a skilled seductress who sleeps with a target for information, and she’d been hired by a rival corporation that chose to zero in on me because I was the one with a weakness for beautiful women, and I was also next in line to head up a powerful arm of the Al Arif Corporation. They had long-term plans for her. And me.”
“Industrial espionage?”
He nodded. “My love for that woman almost cost the entire Al Arif empire. Only a fool makes the same mistake twice. It was a lesson I never forgot, and I could never put my family at risk like that again. I became cynical, overly cautious, suspicious. And this is why I am seeking a wife by this method.” He paused, leaned forward, taking her hand.
“But destiny threw me a curveball by putting you on my palace boulevard, Nikki, and…I found something real. Something beautiful that made me question everything. It made me wonder,” he said very quietly, “if I could learn to love again, if I might actually be able to marry for affection, as my father did when he married my mother. And you know what? I began to yearn for that. I began to hope, even as the clock ticked down on my blindness, even as I needed to move fast to secure this country, that I might get to know you better, that you might be the person I wanted you to be, before I ran out of time.”
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