Her fingers clenched around Rafiq’s but she gave a small, easygoing laugh. “Please, Andrew. That would be ridiculous. It’s not like you to be so dramatic.”
“So, that’s it?” Andrew asked with obvious confusion. “You’re just letting me go? Why would you do that?”
“Because you mean the world to your sister, and she means a good deal to me. You were a free man when you left the jail hours ago, Mr. Gray,” Rafiq said impassively. “My condition for you remains the same, however.”
Holly stiffened and cast an accusing glance up at him. “What condition?”
Andrew’s expression pinched. “The Sheikh requires that I seek treatment for what he feels is a gambling problem I have.”
“I’ve already spoken with a clinic in London. One of my guards will accompany you on the plane and escort you to the location.”
“Is this really necessary?” Holly pleaded. “Surely—”
“Yes, Holly, it’s quite necessary.” Rafiq cast her a warning glance that held enough of a threat to make her back down.
And she did, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth and lowering her gaze. Still, her compliance did little to ease the irritation that had swelled within him.
“Your flight leaves soon, Mr. Gray. Please take a moment to say goodbye to Holly, and then we must be on our way shortly as well.”
Holly’s stomach twisted at Rafiq’s words. On their way? Where were they going? Or had he just said that to force the reunion with her brother short?
Knowing she only had a moment left with Andrew, she slipped from Rafiq’s hold and crossed to her brother once more.
He hugged her and sighed. “I really screwed up this time, sis. I’m so sorry.”
Her eyes stung with tears but she blinked them back. She couldn’t argue with him. He’d screwed up, and now she was going to pay the price by exchanging his freedom for her own.
After her brother had been shown out a few minutes later, the silence in the room was almost deafening.
“You’re sending him to some kind of rehab clinic?” she finally asked, turning to face Rafiq.
The way he leaned against one of the marble columns in the foyer was almost predatory. His narrowed gaze showed little indications of his thoughts, but she knew he wasn’t pleased at her questioning his decision now, any more than he had been when she’d done so with her brother in the room. “The clinic is quite discreet, and has an impeccable reputation. It seems your brother is overdue for an intervention.”
Her fists clenched. “You shouldn’t be so quick to judge him. He’s not perfect, but since the day a police officer showed up at our door telling us our parents were killed in plane crash, Andrew raised me. He gave up everything for me and any hope of a college education.”
“Perhaps. But I have to wonder, what kind of brother allows his younger sister to prostitute her body for money?”
Holly felt the blood drain from her face at his crude depiction of her career, but it came back quickly in a flush of angry heat once she got over the shock. “Prostitute?” she repeated harshly. “I was modeling. Perhaps you should look up the term if you need refreshing.”
He gave an offhanded shrug, as if the topic already bored him. “You sold your body—whether physically or for imagery—for money, habiba.”
“We had very little income. The life insurance was spent—”
“By your brother, no doubt.”
She ignored his thinly veiled accusation. “Modeling was a perfectly respectable means of earning an income. I have to wonder what kind of primitive, narrow-minded world you live in, Your Majesty, to think otherwise.”
"Interesting you’ve gone back on your oath not to call me by my title. I wonder what other promises you will break." Amusement warred with the hard glint in his eyes as he straightened from the column and approached her.
You pushed him too far, Holly.
A shiver of unease skated down her spine, because she knew he was referring to her promise never to sleep with him.
Each step closer he took toward her echoed with the furious pounding of her heart, but she refused to back up and give him any sense of pleasure in knowing his effect on her.
“And as to what kind of world I live in? As I have said, it is a world quite different from your own, Holly, and you’d do well to remember that.” He lifted a few strands of hair that had curled over her shoulder and teased them over the swell of her breasts.
Shock ripped through her, holding her motionless even as her nipples tightened beneath her blouse. She jerked back, ignoring the sting of her hair being tugged. “I hate you, Rafiq.”
“Do you? Because loathing and desire can be easily confused.” Rafiq slid his arm around her waist, stopping her when she would’ve turned away.
Her heart slammed into her ribcage and her mouth dried out. Oh God, how could her body react like this? How could it traitorously crave the touch of this manipulative, cruel man?
His knowing gaze slid over her, lingering on the thrust of her nipples, and more heat flooded her face.
“I think you want to hate me.” His head dipped and his mouth hovered above hers. “How could you not after I humiliated you that day?”
“Thank you for the reminder—one of many—of why I despise you,” she seethed.
“How often have you done it?” he prodded, touching her cheek with the back of two fingers. “How often were you willing to trade that delectable body of yours to gain something you wanted?”
He wouldn’t believe her if she said never. He always assumed the worst about her, and his words could cut deep enough to leave scars on her heart.
It made her reckless. Made her want to hurt him back, or at least hurt his pride.
“Whenever I needed to,” she replied carelessly. “So if you thought you were special…”
Shock flickered briefly in his eyes, and then his gaze hardened with cold fury. “No. I was never foolish enough to make that mistake.”
The surprising flatness in his tone made her conscience prickle with guilt, with regret. She shouldn’t have said it. It was basically an admission of culpability. But he already assumed the worst anyway, had refused to listen to her try to explain that day.
He would never believe in her innocence, probably assumed because she was a top model she’d slept with dozens of men. How would he react if he knew the truth? That Holly Winchester, once an in-demand fashion model, was a twenty-three year old virgin.
Oh, she knew exactly how he’d react. He’d likely laugh himself silly.
But as ludicrous as it seemed, it was the truth. In high school she hadn’t felt ready to be intimate with anyone, and she’d gone straight from school into the world of modeling. The change had been so terrifying and overwhelming, she’d never once been able to trust someone enough to go to bed with him. Had never even felt the hum of desire that could make her even consider it.
Until that week with Rafiq. He’d made her believe in the butterflies in the tummy, Prince Charming, and happily ever after. Then he’d shown his true colors.
As she watched, Rafiq’s lips curled in disgust, and then he released her so abruptly she was left feeling strangely bereft.
“I hope you didn’t unpack your bags, because we leave in the morning.”
Holly shook her head to gather her composure again. So he hadn’t thrown that comment out to Andrew lightly. “Where are we going?”
“Monaco. I have business there for the next few days.”
“And you expect me to go with you? Surely I can stay here and—”
“You will go where I go. The agreement was that you would pose as my mistress, and we must introduce you to the media sooner rather than later. Monaco will provide ample opportunity.”
Each word was a nail in the coffin that held her future. “So that’s it, then? You’re going to parade me around Europe to be photographed as your latest plaything?”
“Yes.” He watched her from beneath hooded eyes. “That’s exactly it, habiba.
”
God, she was no better than if she had been prostituting herself. The only thing she wasn’t doing was sleeping with him.
Yet, a tiny voice whispered in her head.
Unable to manage a response and terrified where her line of thought was going, Holly gave a small nod and turned to leave.
“Holly.”
She froze as he called her name.
“I promise, once you are able to see the situation without your resentment for me, you will realize this is a good step for your brother.”
My brother is fine. The words, so obviously a lie now, died on her lips. Perhaps Andrew did need help, and no matter how shady Rafiq’s methods were in giving it, she knew she needed his assistance. Just flying to Raljahar had put a dent in her dwindling finances.
“I do appreciate what you’ve done,” she admitted reluctantly.
“Even if it means becoming my mistress?”
She didn’t even have the energy to correct him that the whole thing was a charade. “We both know you gave me no choice.”
“One always has a choice, Holly. Do not insult either of us by insinuating I forced you into this agreement.”
No. It hadn’t quite been blackmail. She could’ve walked away, but what kind of person would have done that? It was three months out of her life to help her brother. She would survive. Or one could hope.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said quietly, so tired emotionally and physically. She turned and left for her room.
Chapter 6
Early the next morning, Rafiq stole a sidelong glance at Holly as they strode across the tarmac toward his private plane. Seeing her grim expression and shadows beneath her eyes, he could very well believe she did, indeed, hate him as she’d stated last night.
Well then, so be it. It wouldn’t kill Holly Winchester to suffer a little for her past transgressions, though it hardly could be considered suffering when she’d be given all the comforts and luxuries she was accustomed to.
And she could hate him all she wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that she wanted him. Her lips might tell lies, but her body did not.
When they reached the stairs to his plane, he gestured for her to walk on board first. She hesitated, glancing up and then swallowing hard. Did she resent being forced to accompany him to Monaco that much? He should hardly be surprised.
But she didn’t protest. Instead she gripped the handrail and strode up the stairs into the plane.
The move also gave Rafiq the opportunity to observe the sweet curves of her backside, neatly encased in a cream pencil skirt. Stiletto heels only showcased her long legs and her style of dress screamed sophistication and femininity, seeming far too mature for a woman so young.
His body stirred with desire but he tamped it down, refusing to let himself be ruled by his desire for her.
Once on the plane, he watched as she ignored the intimacy of the plush couch and instead sat down in one of the leather chairs at the table in the cabin. He took the comfortable chair beside her and was rewarded with a searing glance.
“There are plenty of places to sit,” she pointed out, fastening her seatbelt. “Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in another spot?”
His mouth twitched with amusement. “Quite sure. Besides, my guards prefer to sit near the front, and I’m looking forward to sharing an in-flight breakfast with you.”
The door to the cabin closed and the engines began to rev.
She closed her eyes. “I couldn’t possibly eat.”
The tension in her words made him glance closer at her. Her face had lost color and her knuckles were white from gripping the seat.
“You don’t like to fly?”
She didn’t answer as the plane began to taxi down the runway. Instead, it seemed she’d gone somewhere deep inside herself. Her body began to visibly tremble.
This was a woman who’d probably been no stranger to flying. Had likely flown all over the world for various photo shoots, and yet clearly she was absolutely terrified.
And then he remembered those words she’d murmured yesterday. They’d been in passing, but they held part of the key. Her parents had been killed in a plane crash.
Rafiq’s dark mood fled. Instinctively he reached out to pluck her clammy hand from the death grip on her seat, and he clasped it between his palms. “Just take slow breaths in, Holly.” He kept his tone gentle. “Try to relax and we will be in the air shortly. All right?”
She gave the barest of nods, but her fingers curled around his as if she found comfort in his touch.
Everything male within him thrilled in her response, though he knew it had nothing to do with him personally. Had she not been so immersed in her own fear, she likely would’ve pulled away. All too easily he could envision the disgust in her eyes, because he knew he was the last person Holly would turn to for comfort.
The plane lifted rapidly into the air, the force encouraging them back against the soft leather seats.
Would she be like this the entire flight? Or was it just during take-off? He hesitated to ask. Didn’t want to disturb whatever calm she’d managed to create for herself. That, and he was strangely reluctant to release her hand. There was such a feminine softness in the delicate fingers that gripped him and a protective urge, so unfamiliar he barely recognized it, swept through him.
Rafiq continued to murmur words of comfort while brushing her knuckles with his thumb.
The plane finally reached cruising altitude and one of his newer flight attendants came into the cabin. The woman avoided looking at him, and her expression held just a hint of fear.
It was subtle, but Rafiq had learned to pick up on the subtle. It didn’t bother him as much now; he’d almost become immune to it.
When she asked if they would be dining, his words were sharp as he ordered a light meal. She nodded and scurried off, leaving him alone once more with Holly.
He noted some of the tension had eased from her bunched shoulders. Her lips, which had been pressed tight, now eased into a slight frown.
“Are you better now?” he asked gently.
Holly managed another nod, stronger this time, and then opened her eyes. She couldn’t quite make herself look out the window at the ground so far below, and it seemed so much easier just to stare into Rafiq’s concerned face. There was reassurance there, and a comfort and strength she welcomed right now.
“A little better. Taking off is the hardest part for me,” she admitted raggedly.
She was momentarily distracted again at how different Rafiq looked in a suit, how utterly handsome he was. When he’d arrived outside her room earlier today she almost hadn’t recognized him immediately without his stark white robe.
He was compelling no matter what he wore, though. Whether it was the traditional style of his country or western attire.
Holly dropped her gaze from Rafiq’s almost hypnotically comforting stare and blinked in dismay as she noticed her fingers gripping his hand. “Oh, wow, I didn’t realize… I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
Rafiq gave a soft laugh of amusement and shook his head. “Not in the least, Holly.”
God, she hated that he’d seen her like this, so ridiculously panic stricken and debilitated. Flying put her at her absolute weakest. Most pathetic. And Rafiq had just been witness to her near anxiety attack and would likely see it many times in the next few months if he forced her to fly.
“Flying terrifies you.” It was not a question.
“Yes.” She made no attempt to deny it. It would have been silly to try, especially when she’d nearly ripped his hand off.
She didn’t want to look up at him and see the mockery she was sure would be in his eyes.
Averting her gaze, Holly attempted to pull her hand away and glanced up in surprise when he didn’t let her go. Instead, he smoothed his thumb over the back of her hand again, a gesture that had been slowly replacing her fear with a warm bubble of heat in her blood.
“There is no shame
in having fears, Holly,” he said softly. “We all have them.”
Then again, maybe the mockery would’ve been better than pity.
“Maybe we do, but it doesn’t make them any less humiliating,” she muttered. “Flying terrifies me and always has since I lost my parents.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
He was helping by simply holding her hand and talking to her. Funny she found comfort in the one man she’d feared returning to face.
“No, it’s just something I’ve come to endure.”
“Even if you don’t need to?” Rafiq was quiet for a moment. “Holly, there is medication that can ease your anxiety—”
“No drugs. I refuse.” A chill swept through her and she closed her eyes.
“You prefer not to be drugged?”
“Or what can happen when you are.” She winced, realizing she shouldn’t have spoken that last bit aloud.
“What happened?”
She swallowed hard and attempted a light shrug. She didn’t want to confess the memory, but she wanted him to understand. “Before I started modeling I’d never even been on a plane. My parents couldn’t afford to take us many places and drove when they did. They so rarely flew, and they were only on the plane that night—a small island hopper—to celebrate their twenty-year anniversary in the San Juan Islands.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She gave a light shrug, acknowledging his soft words. “Anyway, the first time I got on a plane was from Portland to my agency in New York and I was a mess by the time we landed.”
Rafiq squeezed her hand lightly and she glanced up at him through her lashes. “Go on.”
She stared at him, saw no scorn or mockery, but an encouraging softness that seemed to pluck some of the fear burrowed down to the marrow of her bones. “My second flight was from New York to Paris with my manager and a group of people. One of the models on board offered me a pill, said it would help with my fear. She promised it would knock me out for the duration of the flight, and it did.” A self-deprecating smile twisted her mouth. “A little too well, because I woke up being groped by the designer whose clothes we were going to be modeling.”
Beauty and the Sheikh Page 6