The Sheikh's Virgin Hostage: Seducing her was never part of the plan...

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The Sheikh's Virgin Hostage: Seducing her was never part of the plan... Page 12

by Clare Connelly


  “Emma, wait,” and for a second, she thought he was going to argue with her. “We didn’t use protection. Of course if you are pregnant…”

  “I’m not,” she interrupted. She’d had proof of that the day after returning from the desert.

  “You know for certain.”

  She nodded stiffly.

  Silence ensued, and when she couldn’t bear it any longer, she said, with a firm confidence she absolutely did not feel, “Goodbye, Rafiq.”

  She cried the whole way back to her room. But it was nothing to how she felt when she returned from the trip to Agbesh. Upon returning to her suite, she found her passport resting on her pillow, along with a note from Rafiq. The jet is at your disposal. Advise staff when you are ready. Hardest of all to see was her stupid hair elastic, poised on top of the note.

  And so, it was over.

  * **

  For at least the first month she was back in LA, she expected him to come. It’s what any good hero would do. But after a month, she stopped looking for him everywhere she went. Stopped expecting every knock at the door to bring Sheikh Rafiq Al Sadini. Every call on her cell to herald his voice. He had let her go as if she meant nothing to him. And so, she had to conclude, that’s exactly how he had felt.

  Every night she woke up in a cold sweat, tormented by dreams of their lovemaking at Shilleth, and it was as if fate was laughing at her.

  She even went on a date, two months after leaving Amar’a. The man was everything she wanted! A literature professor at the University of Southern California, he was the same age as Rafiq but so much more civilized. He had blonde hair, and a taut physique, and he dressed like a trendy professor. Not once did he browbeat her, or try to kidnap her. Not once did he pick her up over his shoulders to stop an argument. And not once did he set her pulse racing with just a simple look.

  Dinner had gone well enough. They had a lot in common, and though he professed a disdain for popular fiction, he was quick to retract it when she told him about her own writing. But, as the evening had gone on, the hole in her heart made by Rafiq seemed to widen and gulf. She couldn’t believe she was actually sitting across from another man, as if she might have a future with him.

  Okay, she was getting ahead of herself, but what was the point of a first date if not to hope that it might lead to a second, third, fourth, and seventeenth date? Eventually, she’d escaped to the ladies room because she had been worried she might hyperventilate out of desperation and panic and complete desolation.

  The inevitable kiss goodnight came and went, and as soon as he pressed his thin lips against hers, she wanted to slap him. Her body physically reacted to the hands he put, possessively, on her hips. It took all her control not to stamp her stiletto into his toe.

  She managed to avoid inviting him in, pleading a headache, and she’d never been so relieved to shut a door in her life.

  Meanwhile, in Amar’a, as Cass sat down opposite her husband, her heart full of love, she thought of her sister. “It’s not that she’s not happy,” she said to Mansour. “It’s just that she seems to be treading water. I can’t work out that she’s doing much writing. Though she has at least been dating, finally.”

  Cassandra only had eyes for Mansour, and so she didn’t notice the way Rafiq had frozen, across the room.

  “That sounds positive then. What do you know about the guy?”

  “He sounds perfect for her. A literature professor. Smart, interesting. She said he’s gorgeous to look at.”

  “Well,” Mansour said with a wink. “Perhaps that explains why she isn’t writing at the moment. Her time is being better spent…”

  He didn’t mean to, but as Rafiq left them to their cozy conversation, he took his emotions out on the door, and slammed it behind him. It felt good.

  * **

  Emma’s computer made a noise and she went to check her emails. She smiled as soon as she saw that it was from Cass. Against all expectations, her sister had taken to life in Amar’a like a duck to water.

  Hey sis,

  I’m sitting by the pool, though if I dare to try to float myself in, I’ll be mistaken for a royal whale. It’s so hot here today that I might just try anyway. Your little niece (they’d since had a scan to show the baby was a girl) is kicking me all the time now, making sleep impossible, but I’m delighted that she’s such an active little thing.

  Mansour and Rafiq are spending much time together. I miss him, but I’m happy for him, too. He’d never admit it, but he really wants Rafiq to approve of him, and I think they’re getting there.

  As for R, himself, I still find it hard to forgive him for what he did to you. Though, the more time I spend here, the more I see that he is a good person, albeit abrupt and impatient and brusque to the point of rudeness. I think he must feel badly for what he put you through, because he flatly changes the subject whenever your name comes up. I am only glad that you were able to escape unscathed. When I first saw him, and saw what a barbarian prince he is, I was worried you might have built some of your romantic fantasies around him. Should have known better. My sensible sister Emma is impervious to the charms of even the most charming men!

  I’ll sign off here, I’m leaving little sweaty fingerprints on my phone from typing in this heat. Say hello to LA for me, and a special pat for little master Minky. Love you, C. x

  Emma bit back the tears that stung at her eyes.

  So, he couldn’t even bear to talk about her? He was all she wanted to talk about. He was the reason she couldn’t settle to her work. Every time she thought about her hero, he just seemed so bland. So uninteresting. Absolutely not the kind of man who would kidnap you for the good of King and Country.

  She sighed into her peppermint tea and thought about going for a walk. In truth, she had no energy for anything now she’d left Amar’a. She’d gone back to wearing her hair in a braid, dressing in drab clothes, and leaving the apartment only when necessity struck.

  And so, her life dragged on, for months and months, until one phone call in the middle of the night changed everything.

  “Em! It’s Mansour. I’m sorry to wake you, honey, but Cass insisted I call straight away. Her water’s broken; little baby Cass is on the way! I know you said you might not be able to make it, but she’s in so much pain and she’s asking for you.”

  His words hung in the air expectantly. Emma’s sleepy brain was thick with dream clouds. She cleared her throat and nodded into her dark bedroom. Then, realizing he couldn’t see her, she said, “Of course I’ll come. I’ll go camp out at the airport and wait for a flight,” she was already out of bed, throwing things into a bag.

  “I’ll organize your travel,” he contradicted. “A car will come for you within the hour.”

  Less than an hour, and she’d be on her way back to a place she’d sworn never to set foot into again. But for Cass, she’d do anything. And so she packed. Only her most glamorous, flattering clothes made the cut, and she didn’t stop to wonder why.

  Life as a pretend royal was certainly a breeze. She was taken straight through airport security, and the agent from the Amar’an embassy explained that she’d been granted temporary diplomatic status at the request of the Sheikh Rafiq Al Sadini. The way the agent said it, with a hushed tone and raised brows, left Emma in little doubt as to how impressive it was, that the Sheikh would wade into such matters himself. “Heavens,” Emma said acerbically, “I bet he even asked an aide to make the call. What a prince.”

  ***

  The oppressive heat she remembered from the summer had gone, but the sultry humidity of Agbesh hit her like a fist when she left the airport. She put a hand to her scarf, making sure it was securely in place, and looked around nervously. This was the first time Emma had been on her own in this exotic land, and in some ways she was seeing it as if for the first time.

  It was incredibly modern feeling, and clean, and she noticed that many women were simply wearing conservative western style clothes, rather than the traditional gowns she’d expected.
She frowned, thinking back to the beautiful wardrobe that had been available to her last time. Last time. She gulped nervously. She couldn’t bear to remember how she’d felt when she was last in Amar’a.

  She scanned the taxi rank but just as she was setting off in that direction, a large board caught her eye. Emma A was written in large black letters, being held by a man in a suit. As she moved closer, she saw that his suit bore the emblem of the royal family.

  Well, that would make it easier, she thought, sending a silent prayer of thanks to her brother-in-law for his attentiveness.

  Once in the limousine, she pulled her phone out of her handbag and sent a quick text to Mansour. Here safe, horrible flight (aren’t they all, though?). How’s Cass?

  She didn’t really expect a reply, so she was surprised to receive, only moments later, Baby here, hurry!

  Tears sprang to her eyes and she let them fall, any thought of Rafiq for once pushed from her mind by something even more consuming and wonderful. The car, bearing two small royal flags on the bonnet, sailed through traffic as if the roads were empty. Apparently people in Amar’a treated their royal vehicles as Americans treated paramedics, she thought with a wry grin. Rafiq really had no idea what life was like, did he?

  It was only minutes from the airport to the hospital, and as soon as the limousine pulled up, she leaped out of the car, not waiting for the driver to perform his usual function and come and open the door. She was beyond impatient to see her sister, and her new little niece. She elbowed through the doors and went to reception.

  There was an enormous security presence, and unless she was mistaken, that wasn’t normal. “Hello,” she said breathlessly to the man at the main desk. “I’m here to see Cassandra Al Sadini.”

  The man flicked her a look of curiosity before lifting a walkie talkie to his lips and speaking into it. A crackly voice came back to him and he kept his eyes on Emma whilst listening to whatever was being said. Emma tapped her toe impatiently, trying not to look like she was about to flee to the elevators. Which she was sorely tempted to do.

  “Do you have identification?” He said in accented English.

  Emma reached into her handbag and pulled out her passport but then replaced it. The last time she’d handed her passport to a security official, she hadn’t got it back for a long time. Instead, she grabbed her purse and slipped her drivers license from beneath the plastic film.

  He inspected it carefully and then nodded. “I take you.”

  “Thank you,” she exhaled, following behind the man’s quick step.

  An entire level of the high rise hospital had been reserved for Cassandra and Mansour, Emma realized, as they passed room after room. Finally, at the end of the linoleum encased corridor, she saw her sister. “Cass!” She squealed, breaking into a run, not caring who saw or what they thought.

  She didn’t notice that the suite was absolutely enormous. She didn’t notice that instead of the usual hospital décor, it was fitted out with the kind of furniture you might find in a very up-market apartment. She didn’t notice that the floor to ceiling windows boasted views over the city that would take anyone’s breath away. She didn’t notice anything but the happy tableau in front of her.

  “Emma!” Cassandra’s tear-stained face broke into the biggest smile Emma had ever seen, and she thought again how simply radiant her sister was these days. Not just beautiful and glamorous, but glowing from the inside out.

  Mansour was standing beside his wife, wearing a grin almost as wide as Cassandra’s, and Emma hugged him quickly before bending down and kissing her sister. Then, with fingers that shook, she gently eased the soft blanket down from the tiny bundle’s face, so that she could get a good look at the sleeping baby.

  “Oh, you guys. She’s a doll. Congratulations. I love her already.” She smiled at Cass. “What have you named her?”

  “Aliyah,” Mansour said thickly. “For my mother.”

  “Aliyah. It’s perfect.”

  Cassandra was so completely smitten with her little daughter that at least an hour had passed before it occurred to her to ask Emma if she’d like to hold her. Emma nodded, her hair bouncing behind her as she carefully scooped up the little one.

  Her body was warm and her breath like a purr. Emma felt a pain inside of her, and she knew it was a strange burst of cluckiness.

  As she eased herself into the leather armchair beside Cassandra’s bed, and stared down at the baby’s beautiful face, the lifts pinged and swished open. Only Emma didn’t hear, because she was so wrapped up in admiring the newest member of her family.

  “It’s a small family we’ve got, Cass. No parents, no grandparents. It’s just been you and me for so long. And now we have you,” she whispered to Aliyah, kissing her niece on the nose. There was a fine coating of fuzz on top of her head and she stroked it lovingly with one finger. “I think she’s going to be a red head!”

  “Let us hope so.”

  The voice from the entrance to the room shocked Emma so much that she thought only the greatest instincts of baby-love had stopped her from dropping the bundle to the ground. But her eyes skittered to the door, and her surprise was obvious. “Rafiq,” she breathed out. Had she really let herself forget that he had equal claim to the child? That he would, of course, be there at this early stage in the little one’s life?

  And though she hated him, and hated how he had let her go, and how he had used her, and how he hadn’t chased after her, she knew in an instant that she still loved him, too. Like a starving man at a buffet, she just stared at him, eating him with her eyes. Dressed in a business suit, impeccably handsome, intimidating, skin golden, eyes shining, hair so thick she itched to slide her hands through it. Damn him! Why did he have to look so delicious when she still had plane fog and exhaustion all over her?

  “Emma,” he crossed the room purposefully, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her heart ache. “Welcome back to Amar’a. I trust your flight was smooth?”

  She fought the urge to be pleased he’d remembered her travel-phobia. With superhuman effort, she gave him a smile that was courteous and cold at the same time. “The trip was fine.” It was a lie. She was already dreading boarding another plane in a few days time.

  “She is very beautiful, no?” He said, kneeling beside her and putting his index finger in the baby’s small hand. His face was filled with tenderness as he stared down at the new life, and with a physical twist inside, she had an answer to at least one of the questions she’d had. Would he have been capable of loving their child? Apparently, even Rafiq could forget that he didn’t believe in love when faced with such an angel.

  He was so close to her. As he knelt over the baby, his whole body was in contact with Emma’s, and she held her breath, terrified to move, terrified to move away. In the small part of her brain that was capable of rational thought, she wondered if he still thought about her. Now, he seemed totally unaffected by her. The passion they’d once shared, a thing of the distant past.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she angled her head towards Cassandra. “I brought something for her.” Then, to Rafiq, “Would you like to hold her while I get it?”

  And now, at this distance, when his eyes met hers, she felt her heart squeeze painfully. He nodded, confident, sure of himself, none of the nerves that she’d expected him to feel at the prospect of holding a newborn.

  “You have to support the neck,” she said as she passed the baby over.

  “Yes, I am aware, Emma,” he said lightly.

  The image of Rafiq holding the baby was so painful to see that Emma knew she couldn’t stay much longer. She reached into her handbag and pulled out the carefully wrapped gift she’d brought over for Aliyah.

  Cass took it, a smile on her lips. “You really shouldn’t have.”

  “It’s nothing,” Emma demurred, stepping back to watch as Cassandra carefully lifted the tape from the edge. Mansour watched on, curious. She couldn’t have said what Rafiq did, because there was no way
she could look at him again.

  Cassandra slid the book from the wrapping, and burst into laughter and tears at the same time. “Emmandra!” She said with a sob. “I’d completely forgotten about her.” With great care, she turned the first page, and then the next.

  “My publisher had it printed for me. I know it’s silly…”

  “Em, it’s the most thoughtful present in the world.” Without looking up from the book, she explained to Mansour, and Rafiq, who had come to stand above Cassandra and see what she held, “Even when we were kids, Emma used to write stories. Long, funny tales, and this was our favorite. My favorite. Emmandra, the Amazing.”

  “As in Emma and Cassandra?” Mansour asked.

  “Yes, silly,” Cass rolled her eyes. “Oh, she used to go on such adventures. Like this one. If I remember correctly, this is the one where she walks into the ocean, and realizes that she can breathe under water. So she keeps walking, until she finds a colony of mermaids. And they drink the juice of the moon, so have to come close to the surface. And they ride dolphins like ponies. Oh, it was so good.” With eyes that shone, she looked up at her sister. “Thank you, Em. It’s beautiful.”

  Emma leaned forward and squeezed her sister’s hand. “I’m proud of you, Cass.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve stayed too long though, you must be exhausted. I’m going to leave you rest, and let Aliyah’s uncle catch up with you.”

  Cassandra shook her head to demur but Emma cut her short. “Really, Cass. I’ll go have a shower and I’ll come back later today.”

  She left quickly, before anyone could detain her. Seeing Rafiq again had been too much. Far, far too much.

  “Emma.”

  Damn it! She should have known he wouldn’t let her get away that easily. Her cheeks flushed, she froze to the spot and then turned, slowly.

  “We need to talk.”

  This was the Rafiq she remembered, who had tormented her dreams and made her blood heat to boiling point. His face was all arrogant lines, self-confident to the extreme. And his ocean colored eyes devoured her, just as hers had him moments earlier. But that heat, that desire, led them nowhere. They’d already been down this road, and it had ended with Emma’s heart being broken into a trillion tiny pieces.

 

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