Dana Marton – Desert Sheikhs: Monarch of the Sands / To Tame a Sheikh / Sheikh Protector (страница 8)

This one was the killer. There could be no mistake or misunderstanding about a close-up where Simon appeared to be going for a new world record in how much tongue it was possible to shove down a woman’s throat. Frankie shuddered with revulsion as she compared it to all the chaste kisses he used to share with her. But didn’t it all make sense now? The reason he’d never touched her had not been because he’d respected her—but because he had someone else. Someone he really cared for and desired—rather than someone he just wanted to milk for all she was worth.

With a ragged little cry, she let the photos slip from her fingers, her hurt and dismay making her turn on Zahid.

‘You had him followed!’ she accused as she felt hot tears of humiliation fill her eyes. ‘What right did you have to do that?’

‘Francesca,’ he admonished softly. ‘Aren’t you turning your anger on the wrong person here? I did it for your own good.’

‘B-but why?’ Frankie sobbed. ‘Why did you do it? Couldn’t you have just let me be happy for a while?’ she cried as tears of humiliation and shame began to slide down her cheeks.

‘You really think you can be happy in a relationship which is based on a tissue of lies? And then what?’ he flared, when still she didn’t answer. And for a moment, he acknowledged the irony of him dishing out advice on relationships. ‘You’d have discovered even further down the line how duplicitous he was being—and found yourself even more hurt! Is that what you want from your life, Francesca?’

What kind of a question was that to ask her at a time like this? Scrambling to her feet, she pushed him away, her thoughts spinning round and round. But some small and stupid hope was still flickering in her heart, stubbornly refusing to be extinguished. Maybe there was some kind of explanation for it, after all. Something which Simon would explain and then she could turn round to Zahid and tell him that for once in his life he’d been wrong! ‘I’m going to ask him!’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he warned her grimly. ‘You’ll only regret it.’

But she turned on him—and part of her terrible pain was that Zahid should have borne witness to her humiliation. The man she had idolised for all her life should have seen her made a complete fool of. That she regretted.

‘So if it’s true—and we haven’t even established that it is—you think I should just walk away and let him get away with it? Just fade away into the background as if I never really existed and let him get away with making a fool of me?’ she raged as a sense of justice and determination began to replace her hurt and mortification.

In that moment she realised that there was going to be no mistake. That the photos told the truth and that Simon had lied to her—but one thing she was sure of was that she was not going to be some sad little victim. Especially in Zahid’s eyes. ‘Obviously, I no longer have a job—so I might as well tell him exactly what I think of him.’

‘The job doesn’t matter, Francesca,’ he grated.

‘You don’t think so? Well, it might just interest you to know that I need to earn money because I need to eat! Most people do.’

He gave an impatient wave of his hand. ‘I can find you a job in the flicker of an eye. I can create some sort of role for you in my organisation and it can be as permanent or as temporary as you like.’

There was a pin-drop silence as Frankie stared at him. What, and make her detachment from reality complete? She could just imagine the hawklike eye he would keep on her if she got involved with his organisation. Governed and bossed around by a powerful man who seemed to have the misplaced idea that his role was to protect her. Long ago, she had abandoned her foolish romantic dreams about him, but wouldn’t enforced proximity and hurt pride make her vulnerable to him again?

She would have to watch from the sidelines while he bedded the glamorous women who were his girlfriends—and how would that feel? There would be all the disadvantages of being closeted with the devastatingly attractive sheikh—but none of the benefits. She would end up feeling completely invisible because to him she was just Francesca—sexless, safe Francesca who had got herself into a laughable situation with a worthless man and now needed rescuing.

‘Thank you, but no, thank you,’ she said tightly, walking over to the table and grabbing her shoulder bag. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do with my future —but before I make any decisions, I’m going to ask Simon Forrester a few questions!’

As he watched her pull the bag over one slender shoulder Zahid knew that he could have restrained her in an instant—and not by confiscating her car keys. For wasn’t there an urgent part of him which wanted to subdue her into forgetting about that worthless creep by simply kissing her? He felt the heavy throb of desire as arrogance and a justifiable pride in his methods of seduction told him that he would have succeeded within seconds. He could show her what it was like to be with a real man.

But deep down he knew that would be wrong. For all kinds of reasons, Francesca O’Hara was not a woman he was ever going to be able to seduce—and ultimately she was free to do what she needed to do. And it seemed that she needed to go and confront the man who had betrayed her.

A faint smile of admiration curved the edges of his lips as he heard the front door slamming shut behind her, and soon after that came the sound of her old car spluttering into life.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘HIS Royal Highness, the Sheikh Zahid will see you now, Miss O’Hara.’ The sleek receptionist indicated the discreet private elevator which was set in the marbled foyer of the luxury hotel. ‘If you’d like to go up?’

‘Thanks very much.’ With a polite smile at the glacial beauty who was the last barrier between her and Zahid, Frankie walked over to the elevator and pressed the button up to the penthouse suite.

Outwardly, she was trying to project a calm and unruffled image, which wasn’t easy, given her rain-swept appearance.

It had been quite an afternoon.

Tracking Zahid down hadn’t been easy. It had come as something of a shock to realise that she had never actually contacted him before. He had mostly only visited with his father—and everything had always been arranged by palace aides. But she knew that his family owned a skyscraper headquarters in a swish central London location, where his brother masterminded the European arm of the Al Hakams’ extensive empire.

Eventually, after she had spoken to a series of suspicious-sounding people who presumably okayed it with Zahid himself, an appointment had been made for her to see him. But instead of it being at the company headquarters, they’d given her the name of the hotel where he was staying. The famous Granchester hotel—the kind of place you only read about in the gossip columns of newspapers, or when a Hollywood superstar happened to be visiting town.

The elevator was so speedy that it made her feel a bit sick and Frankie couldn’t help but notice that her legs were splashed with icy water from the grim November day. She dabbed at them with a tissue pulled from her bag, but by the time the elevator slid to a halt and she rapped on the door of Zahid’s suite she felt even more chewed up with nerves. A feeling which was only increased when she heard his distinctive voice call: “Come!”

Her heart was pounding as she pushed open the door and for a moment she noticed nothing other than the fabulous works of art which lined the walls and the enormous windows overlooking some of the most expensive real estate in the world. The polished floor was as big as a football pitch and strewn with exquisite silken rugs. It was, she realised, the first time that she had ever been in his environment, and it was even more polished and intimidating than she’d thought it would be.

And now, walking in from a room which led off the main living area, came Zahid himself—his face unsmiling and not particularly welcoming as he looked at her. Was he angry that she had flung his job offer back in his face the other day? she wondered.

‘Hello, Francesca,’ he said. His narrowed black eyes were shuttered as he looked at her—taking in the raindrops which glittered like diamonds among the tousled strands of her dark hair. ‘You’d better take off your raincoat.’

Frankie saw that she was dripping rain onto the polished wood floor and so she struggled out of her coat, wondering if he might help her. But he simply watched as she removed it and then pointed to a coat-stand which stood next to the door. She cleared her throat as she looped the damp garment over the peg then turned round to face him. ‘It was good of you to see me, Zahid.’

There was the faintest elevation of his jet-dark brows. ‘I was surprised you wanted to—in view of our last meeting.’

She supposed she deserved that, just as she supposed he deserved an apology for the way she’d reacted to what he told her. Was that why he was being so cool towards her? So distant? ‘I was very … rude to you.’

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but, of course, it did—just not in the way she thought. In a funny sort of way he had been glad about her rudeness—because hadn’t it stopped him from ringing her to find out what had happened after she’d gone to confront Simon? He’d convinced himself that it would have been all about self-interest if he’d done so. And told himself that he should stay away from her—for both their sakes. Yes, he had opened her eyes to the fact that she had been involved with some pathetic fortune-hunter—but now that she was presumably free of him, it should have no impact on his life.