Darker Side of Desire & the Sheikh's Pregnant Prisoner(34)
“Then why did he run, Lauren? Why not wait to find out what happened to you?”
“Maybe because against your claims to the contrary, you seem to be walking exactly the same path as the old sheikh. You had your men seize me for a mere slap, Zafir. Can you blame him? What would he do with that video anyway? Put it on YouTube?”
His gaze hardened and she realized it was exactly the thing he wanted to avoid. He pulled her cell phone out of his pocket and slid it into her hand. “Call him. Ask him to meet you in the front lobby and bring his camcorder.”
“Why?”
He glared at her. “So that we can delete that video.”
“I told you. Even if David recorded it, it would be by accident. He would never do anything to hurt me. I know him.”
A vein stretched taut at his temple, something hot and indecent uncoiling in his eyes. “Is that as well as you knew me or even better?”
There were so many things wrong with that question that she couldn’t sift through the nuances for a minute. “What…does that mean?”
“You fell into my bed three days after we met. You traveled halfway round the world to see a man who walked out on you. I will not put much stock in your judgment right now.”
A soft whimper fell from her mouth and Lauren hated herself just as much as she hated him.
Her judgment? He was using their weakness, their utter lack of control when it came to each other against her?
“You’re manipulative too, great.” She whispered the words softly, slowly, as though she needed to believe them herself.
A headache was beginning to blur her vision. “David isn’t even aware of our…liaison,” she said, intent on making him understand. “When he told me he was traveling to Behraat, I persuaded him to let me join him, made him wait until my visa was through. He didn’t even know why I was coming.”
“Why?”
“Why what, Zafir?”
“Why did you come to Behraat?”
Because I’m a silly, sentimental fool. Because, even after all these years, I still didn’t learn.
He was right. Her usual common sense had taken a hike from the minute she had woken that morning six weeks ago and found him gone. But she’d acted the fool enough.
“I thought you were dead, Zafir.” The hollow ache she had battled for six weeks resonated around them. “I came to see the Behraat that you told me so much about. I came to Behraat to mourn you.”
He flinched and took a step back. Shock radiated from him.
“I saw the news coverage of the riots. When I didn’t hear anything from you, when they reported the number of civilian casualties, I thought you had died fighting for your country and its people,” she paused to breathe, to pull air past the lump that seemed to have wedged in her throat like a rock. She rubbed her fingers over her eyes, feeling incredibly tired. “But I’m such a fool, aren’t I? If you had cared, you could have picked up the phone, no wait, you could have barked a command like you did before, and one of your thugs could have informed me that you were alive. That you were through with me.”
He didn’t blink, didn’t move, just stared at her. Had he thought it meant nothing to her? Had she meant nothing to him?
“I never promised you anything, Lauren.”
She nodded and the movement cost her everything she had. “As you pointed out so clearly a few minutes ago, it was an affair at best, an exchange of sex.” She laughed through the tears edging into her eyes, through the haze of something clouding her eyes. All of a sudden, she felt woozy, as if there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room to breathe. “I’ve realized that the man I came to mourn doesn’t exist.
“Or if he did, he’s truly dead.”
Her words hit Zafir like a fist to his gut, rendering everything inside him still. The man he’d been with her, he had been neither the orphan nor the ruler.
He’d been just Zafir, free to pursue whatever he wanted.
But not anymore. Never again.
She licked her lips and swallowed visibly, her skin losing the little color she had. “Now, unless your plan is to torture me, in which case I demand a lawyer, please order one of your thugs to bring me some water. My throat feels like it’s on fire.”
Her gaze unfocused, she swayed on her feet and slid down the wall in a tangle of limbs.
Zafir caught her before she hit the floor, his heart pounding.
Propping her up, he tugged her close, pushed the silky strands of her hair away from her forehead. She was burning up and dehydrated.
It could happen to anyone visiting such a hot clime for the first time, but her fainting was a direct result of his actions. Because she had been locked up the whole morning without water. On his command.
With her body slumped against his, he pulled his phone out and called Arif.
He traced the stubborn angle of her jaw with his finger, mesmerized by the contrast of his rough, brown hand over her delicate soft skin. That was it.
She had mesmerized him the moment he had set eyes upon her. Stunning features, alabaster skin and a sensuous mouth that could make a man forget he wasn’t allowed something as frivolous as a blazing hot affair.
And even if he had somehow resisted her beauty, her biting tongue and no-nonsense attitude had won him over.
He had never met a woman like her before.
But she’d been a distraction, a respite, all that he could ever have. So he had walked away when it was time for him to return to Behraat.
But, why hadn’t he, as she’d so recklessly demanded, told her he was through with her? A simple phone call would have done it…why hadn’t he been able to let go?
As the door opened behind him, he lifted her in his arms and laid her on the stretcher brought in by his personal medical staff. He shook his head as Arif opened his mouth. They waited in silence as the two paramedics checked her vitals.
He couldn’t let her go, not until he found the video footage. But he refused to lock her up.
“Put her in the extra suite in my wing. Plant someone from my personal guard outside her suite and ask Dr. Farrah to give her a thorough checkup.”
All three men froze around him. His command went against one of the traditional customs of Behraat. No unmarried woman strayed near the edges, even by mistake, of a man’s quarters.
Arif said, “We can send her to the women’s clinic in the city and still have a guard there.”
“No.”
Letting Lauren wake up in some unknown clinic amid strangers when this was all his fault, that was inexcusable, even for him.
He wanted her close, somewhere she could be watched without causing a fuss and curiosity, which she undoubtedly would anywhere else.
And he was no normal man like he had told her. He was not the favored orphan anymore either. He was the sheikh, and he was damned well going to use, or abuse—he didn’t care which—his power in this.
“Do as I command, Arif.”
Stealing one last look at her, he turned and headed toward the elevator, Lauren’s words echoing in his ears.
“The man I mourned doesn’t exist. Or if he did, he’s truly dead.”
How close she’d come to the truth. That carefree, reckless, indulgent man he’d been in New York, he truly didn’t exist.
CHAPTER THREE
LAUREN OPENED HER eyes slowly, feeling a sharp tug at her wrist. Her mouth felt woolly as if she had fallen asleep with cotton stuffed into it. It took her a moment to focus around the strange room. Feeling a little frayed, she propped herself on her elbows and scooted into a sitting position.
She was lying on a huge bed on the softest scented cotton sheets. The subtle scent of roses tickled her nostrils. A dark red tapestry hung on the opposite wall while sheer silk curtains fluttered at the breeze. Her whole apartment in Queens could fit into the suite, she thought, awed by the magnificence of the surroundings.
“It is nice to see some color in your cheeks,” said a voice near the foot of the bed in heavily accented English.
The IV tube tugged at her wrist as Lauren moved.
A woman laid a cool hand against Lauren’s forehead and nodded. She wore a bright red tunic with a collar and long sleeves, and black trousers underneath it. Her hair was tied into a ponytail at the back. Her skin, a shade lighter than Zafir’s rich copper tone, shone with a vibrancy that made Lauren feel like a pale ghost.
“The fever is gone. Would you like something to drink?”
When Lauren nodded, instead of handing the glass to her, the woman tucked one hand at Lauren’s neck and held it to her mouth with the other. The cool liquid slid against her throat, bringing back feeling into her mouth. Feeling infinitely better, Lauren looked at her. “Where am I?”
A little line appeared in the woman’s smooth forehead. “The royal palace.”
Holding her growing anxiety at bay, Lauren studied the suite again. Rich, vibrant furnishings with hints of gold greeted her eyes. A high archway lighted with bronze torches led into the balcony on her right, from which she could see the turrets and domes of the palace.
First, he had her locked up accusing her of conspiracy, and now he had staff waiting on her?
She ran a finger over her dry, cracked lips. Her blouse was creased and her cream trousers looked dirty. “I’ve never fainted in my life before. If you remove the IV, I’d like to wash up. And then leave.”
The woman shook her head. “That’s not possible.”