“He was older.”
“How much older?”
She smiled, but it was a reflex, something she did when distracted. “He was thirty-five.”
“And you were sixteen,” Ash murmured, moving a hand beneath the table so she wouldn’t see the fist he was making.
Charlotte nodded. “I loved him. I thought I did, anyway.” She grimaced.
“And it didn’t work out.”
“It was fake. All of it.” She sipped her champagne, but even the bubbles as they glided down her throat couldn’t calm the raging torrent of memories. “He’d read everything about me, stalked me, turned himself into my perfect man.” She shook her head. “I had no idea.”
Ashad’s fist pumped. His temper was spiking. “Until?”
“Yes, yes. That sort of thing has a way of coming out, doesn’t it? I surprised him at his house one evening. He had walls filled with my photograph, going back years.” She shivered, the truth of that night making it hard to breathe for a moment. “It was … terrifying.” She hadn’t had a panic attack in years; she wouldn’t have one now. She inhaled slowly, counting to three.
“It was just as well you discovered the truth before it was too late.”
“Too late?” She whispered, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’d been seeing him for months.” She could smell Marook. She could feel him. His heavy body, so strong, so insistent. “It was too late.”
Ashad stood, scraping the chair back, and moved towards the railing. He gripped it for a moment, his breath burning through his lungs, his mind turning over this information. So she’d slept with him, this man who’d targeted her. Was that it?
He turned slowly, and instantly regretted his hasty reaction. Charlotte was ashamed. It was an unmistakable emotion, playing across her features.
“See?” She whispered, not meeting his eyes. “I’m anything but perfect.”
A need to kiss away those doubts assaulted him from every angle. His body was taut, his mind heavy with the war it was waging with his heart and body.
“Falling for the wrong person doesn’t invalidate perfection,” he said quietly.
Her eyes lifted, holding his for a brief, electric moment before skidding away sharply. He didn’t know the truth.
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Who?” Ashad stared at her in confusion.
“Syed.” Her cheeks flushed. “I’m sure he has certain … expectations … about me. That will obviously be … disappointed.”
Ash’s gut rolled. Hell. He hadn’t even thought of Syed! It would be the perfect kernel of information to spill to release his cousin from the betrothal. Or would it? Adin was no fool. He didn’t expect people in this day and age to stand true to virtues and societal standards that had been in play decades earlier. And the matter had been hushed up successfully, kept out of the media’s eye. There was no need for anyone to know.
“No,” he said, shaking his head from side to side slowly. “I’m not.”
“Why not?” She asked, her surprise obvious.
“Because what you have just told me has no bearing on the kind of wife you will be. It is irrelevant to your marriage. And because no one should be punished for innocent mistakes made many years in the past.”
* * *
Ashad placed the lid on his pen carefully, a grim sense of reality adding urgency to his question. “Can you cancel your afternoon’s plans?”
Charlotte startled. Not because his words were in any way offensive or remarkable, but because she had been on tenterhooks since arriving at the embassy hours earlier. The idea of spending more time with Ashad, talking, looking, laughing, and not touching, was impossible to contemplate.
“No, I have to go,” she said with an attempt at sounding apologetic.
He didn’t argue, though watching her walk away – again – was something he wished to avoid. “Fine. Tomorrow morning?”
“What about it?” She asked cautiously.
“Will you meet me?”
“I … we’re almost done, aren’t we?”
“This isn’t about the wedding,” he said quietly.
“Oh.” She blinked down at the notes they’d made, detailing many aspects of the marriage that lay ahead of her. “I don’t think …”
“Think of it as getting to know your groom’s family,” he added.
“Ashad.” A warning, but her eyes met his and her desire to say yes was patently obvious.
“One morning, azeezi.”
“Danger can find purchase in one minute, let alone one morning,” she murmured.
“True.” He grinned. “Just as well we’re both risk-taking law-breakers then.”
“Ashad … this is … not appropriate.” Her cheeks coloured.
Ash couldn’t help but agree. If Charlotte only knew that Syed had no interest in marrying her! Perhaps then she’d feel differently. “Is that a ‘no’?”
She drew her lower lip between her teeth and stared at him. She shook her head and her eyes were beseeching, begging, hoping that she wasn’t making the biggest mistake in her life.
“Fine. Where?”
He expelled a sigh of relief. “Meet me downstairs from your apartment. Seven o’clock.”
CHAPTER SIX
Adin sounded better than he had in a long time, but he still had to break the call to pause and cough.
“Sorry, my child. Please, continue.”
“Uncle, you know I have the greatest respect for you.”
Adin’s laugh was cackled. “Yes, yes. What do you need?”
“It’s not what I need, sir.”
Adin coughed again. “Is there a problem in Falina?”
Ash nodded. “You could say that.”
“The marriage agreement is water tight. Neither side can break it. Is that old bastard asking for more?”
“No,” Ash shook his head.
“Because his daughter is an excellent candidate for Syed but we’re already paying above the odds.”
“Please don’t,” Ash said quickly. “I don’t think we should speak as though Charlotte is being bought.”
Adin’s laugh was deep. “Okay, if you wish. So? What is the problem?”
“I don’t think she will make Syed happy,” Ash said after a moment, guilt worming through him at the complete, bald-faced lie.
“I presume you’ve met her? She’s a beautiful girl. Intelligent. I like her.”
“I like her too,” Ash responded truthfully. “But she is not a match for Syed. They’re fundamentally different people.”
Adin was quiet, and Ashad wondered if the old man was listening to him. It would be a pleasant reprieve if he could be brought to agreement.
“Then they will have to learn to be compatible,” Adin said after a pause. “This marriage is to go ahead. I know Syed does not wish to marry her, but he must. He has thoughts of that American in his head, and only marriage can correct that.”
Ash shook his head. “You wouldn’t see him married to someone against his will.”
“You know Charlotte. Do you think he will be immune to her charms for long?”
“No.” Ash was numb. He could imagine that Charlotte would put anyone and anything from Syed’s mind with ease. “What if …” He felt an unusual sense of apprehension quiet his words.
“Yes?” Adin barked impatiently.
“I will marry her,” Ash said, and the second he said it, he knew that the words were an expression of what was in his heart. A smile moved over his face. “I will marry her.”
Adin’s laugh surprised him. “She has charmed you, eh?”
Ashad shook his head. “Syed doesn’t want to marry Charlotte. I would be happy to.”
“I’m sure,” Adin’s tone was droll. He coughed, and Ash could imagine the way his lips would have curved into a small smile. “She is Syed’s betrothed, Ashad. The contracts are done.”
“The details aren’t finalised,” Ash pointed out.
“The details do not matter. The betroth
al is formalised. Neither I, nor Rama can put them aside.”
“Of course you can. You are the King …”
“Ashad?” Adin cleared his throat and when he spoke again his voice was weak. Tired. Guild flushed through Ashad. “You are a good boy. You know what is needed of you. Finish the contracts and come home.”
“But …”
“Enough. It is done. She is to marry Syed. Understood?”
His uncle’s insistence was strange. “Is this about the American woman?”
Silence crackled between them. Angry silence – at least, from Ashad’s part. And, he guessed, his uncle’s.
“Sarah Smith,” Adin muttered with obvious distaste.
“Yes.” Ash nodded, trying to recall the scandal that had taken place. Only Adin and Syed had been reticent to discuss it. Ash knew only that Syed had believed himself in love. That Adin had deeply disapproved.
“My son will marry whom I choose. For the sake of the kingdom and his own happiness.”
“But if he loves …”
“He does not love this woman. His body might have been won by her, but she is all wrong. No. He will marry Charlotte. And you, my dear nephew? You will find your own bride who is every bit as charming as Syed’s.”
Ash disconnected the call as quickly as he was able; he had never shouted at his uncle before but his current mood made him think a first time was looming.
He respected his uncle enormously, but the call had only served to harden his resolve.
Charlotte and Syed would be broken of this obligation – and he would do the breaking. To hell with the consequences.
* * *
It was a perfect morning in Falina. The sun was shining despite the earliness of the hour and the sky was a crisp, glowing blue. A light breeze lifted off the marina, filling the air with the hint of salt, and in the distance, the fishing trawlers had returned and the activity of the men unpacking them could be heard even at the entrance to Tiffany & Co.
“Your Highness.” The manager for the jewellery store bowed so low his nose almost touched the paved footpath.
Ashad nodded. “I appreciate your opening the store especially for me.
“Of course,” the man nodded. “Please.”
Ashad was ushered inside, past four security guards and several store clerks.
“You have the items.”
“As you ordered. Would you like to view them?”
Ash shook his head. The idea of doing so in front of half a dozen shop staff turned his stomach. These were private items; things he’d ordered with Charlotte alone in mind. “No.”
“Very good.”
The manager handed over a signature turquoise bag, tied at the top with a frothy white ribbon.
“It has been a pleasure arranging this for you.”
Ash nodded, curling his hands over the ribbon. “My embassy has organised payment and the confidentiality agreements?”
The manager nodded. “Such agreements are unnecessary, but we have all signed them.”
“Good.” Ash turned on his heel and strode out of the shop, his business concluded, his mind moving on to the next part of the puzzle.
Charlotte was just stepping out of her apartment building as he exited the shop. Her head turned in his direction and he laughed to see that she’d attempted to go incognito – a large, wide-brimmed hat, linen pants and a kaftan top completed the look. Unfortunately for Charlotte, nothing could take away from the unique sense of elegance and grace she possessed. He would have picked her a mile off.
Charlotte was self-conscious. She walked towards him slowly, studying first Ashad, then the bag he held, and finally, the marina. It was deserted, save for the early morning shop staff and the boat crews coming off the trawlers.
“Good morning,” his voice was a deep rumble that made her stomach twist.
“Hey.” She cleared her throat. “Something in there for your bride of convenience?” She said with a lifted brow, teasing him and hoping he’d dispel the existence of such a person at the same time.
He laughed. “More of a bride of inconvenience, actually,” he said cryptically.
Jealousy was a hard flash. “Right.”
“I have a question to ask you. And it’s important.”
Her heart began to hammer, hard, against her rib cage. Thumpedy thumpedy thump thump thump. She could feel it banging against her body. For the briefest moment, she let herself imagine that she was being proposed to. It was pure fantasy, but she let herself imagine that he was going to say something magical and special and ask her to marry him.
The direction of her thoughts was astounding. They’d just met! And she was betrothed! What the hell was she thinking? Marrying him would be madness. Madness!
More so than marrying Syed, a little voice in the back of her mind asked.
“Okay. What is it?”
His smile sent goose bumps along her arms. She felt the spark of attraction buzz between them. It was a palpable tension; if she reached out, surely she would feel the air vibrate with that need.
“Do you trust me?”
Her body tingled and her mouth was dry. Did she trust him? “Yes,” she whispered, and it was absolutely true. She trusted him completely and utterly. “I do.”
“Good.” He took a step and she moved with him instinctively. “Try to remember that.”
She wanted to ask him what the hell he meant but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she walked beside him, and found that each step they took made her feel more and more … alive.
Her fingertips itched. She wanted to reach down and put her hand in his, but instead, she dropped her hand and let it brush his. The look he shot her was pure fire. It burned through her.
What was she doing?
This had the potential to be a disaster!
How could she be falling for this guy? He was the cousin of her fiancé and it sounded like he had some woman, somewhere, who meant something to him. Would her parents consider cancelling her engagement?
She looked away from Ashad as the idea found feet inside her. Even if they did, would Ashad be interested in her? Was he just flirting for the sake of it? And did she want to be with someone who could make peace with being attracted to their cousin’s betrothed? In any event, there was no way her parents would let her cancel the wedding. Financially, far too much was riding on the union. Billions were at stake.
The boats they past were enormous. Some of the most luxurious in the world, she knew, despite her lack of interest in swimming. He stopped beside one and turned to face her.
“Here we are.” He didn’t smile. His look was one of challenge.
Charlotte’s skin paled beneath her tan. “Where?”
“You trust me, remember?”
She nodded. “But not to go on that thing.”
“Trust me,” he prompted, and now he reached down, squeezing her hand for such a brief moment that she almost doubted it had happened. He leaned closer though, so that his words breathed against her cheek. “I promise it will be worth it.”
Long-held fears were slicing through her. The boat was enormous though – more like a floating mansion.
“Fine. Let’s go.” She looked up at him with nothing but courage in her beautiful eyes.
He wanted to kiss her then, too. It was becoming a more and more frequently occurring impulse.
There were steps that led to the boat and it wasn’t rocking at all. Still, Charlotte gripped the handrail tightly as she moved upwards, onto the deck. Ashad signalled the captain the second she stepped on-deck, not wanting to give her a moment to change her mind.
The engine began to purr beneath them, making the deck reverberate. Charlotte was stricken and he put a hand in the small of her back, guiding her towards an area that had a high railing.
“Hold on, azeezi.”
“Why do you call me that?” She asked, her body stiff.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“You know why,” she said quietly.
He sig
hed. “Hold on.” The boat was enormous but the driver was skilled. He negotiated it out of the dock with apparent ease, then turned it towards the open sea.
“Where are we going?”
“Not far.”
They stood in silence as the boat passed many other yachts of incredible design and proportion before it broke free of the marina and burst out of the sheltered area, into the sea. Waves hit the sides but could barely be felt from where they were.
It crested through the ocean, the morning sun bright against them as it cut through the water, finding its own path far from the shores of Falina before turning to run parallel with the coast line.
It went at speed, taking them past familiar landmarks.
After almost twenty minutes, Charlotte turned to face him. “I’m not afraid.”
He laughed. “Remember that, too.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“I’ll show you why. Come with me.” He took her hand now and she didn’t even think of pulling away. They were alone. Well, apart from his staff, whom she presumed could be trusted. She followed behind him, hoping for more than just a simple hand contact. The realisation shamed her, yet she didn’t stop.
At the edge of the deck there were white stairs. He stood aside, allowing her to go down them first.
“Third door on the right,” Ashad called from behind her. Charlotte moved down the wide, elegant corridor, catching glimpses of a lounge area, a dining room, and a cinema before entering the room he’d said.
It was a bedroom.
Holy crap.
A bedroom with an enormous bed, the latest word in designer styling, and portal windows that showed the bobbing ocean beyond them.
“Ashad,” she pulled at her hand now, not about to throw every caution to the wind.
“I have something for you,” he murmured, and confusion drew her brows together.
“What?”
He stowed the Tiffany bag beside the bed and lifted another. La Perla, it said. He handed it over and, curious, Charlotte peeked inside. Whatever it was was wrapped in tissue paper but she knew exactly what La Perla made.
“I don’t think I should look at this.”
“It’s not what you think,” he promised.
The Sheikh's Stolen Bride: The only way to make her happy was to make her his... (The Sheikhs' Brides Book 2) Page 7