Carrying the Sheikh's Heir(11)
No matter how much he admired her fighting spirit, he would not be merciful. He’d left mercy behind a long time ago.
“Miss Sloane,” he said, very coolly and clearly. “It would be unwise to anger me. This business you run?” He snapped his fingers. “I could destroy it in a moment. I could destroy you in a moment. Continue to defy me, and I shall.”
* * *
Sheridan’s pulse skipped and slid like it was tumbling down a hill and couldn’t find purchase. He’d just threatened her. Threatened Dixie Doin’s. At first she wanted to laugh him off. But then she looked at him standing there, at his tall, dark form and the dark glitter of his eyes, and knew he was not only perfectly serious, but that he was also probably capable of accomplishing it.
He was a king. A king!
Of an incredibly rich, oil-producing nation in the Arabian Desert. She knew where Kyr was. Hadn’t they just had a crisis that was plastered all over the news? The king had been very ill and no one had known who his successor was going to be.
She’d found it fascinating that a monarch could choose his successor from among his sons, and puzzling that he had not done so by that point. They were grown after all, and he must surely know which of them was best suited to the job.
The fact he had not done so surely spoke volumes about him—or about his children. She wasn’t sure which.
But the crisis had passed and Kyr had a king. This man. Rashid bin Zaid al-Hassan. Oh, yes, his name was imprinted on her memory now. She would never forget it again as long as she lived.
Still, she had not been raised to blindly follow orders and she would not start now. Even though he terrified her on some level. He was so cold and angry, and he was a king. But he was not her king. Hadn’t her ancestors fought to divest themselves of kings?
Sheridan cleared her throat. “It’s only seven more days until the test. You could stay in Savannah. Or maybe you could come back when the results are due. It seems far simpler than what you’re proposing.”
He did not look in the least bit appeased. “Does it, now? Because your business, which has another owner and employees to help, needs your presence far more than a nation needs her king, yes? How extraordinary, Miss Sloane.”
Sheridan pushed the stray lock of hair behind her ear again. How did he manage to make her feel petty when all she wanted was to continue to live her life as normally as possible until the moment when she found out if everything was going to change or not? She didn’t even want to contemplate what it would mean if she were carrying this man’s child.
A royal baby. Madness.
She twisted the cloth that she’d earlier pressed to her forehead. “I didn’t mean to suggest any such thing. But yes, my business is important to me, and I can’t leave Kelly to do everything by herself. I have menus to plan, and supplies to buy—”
“And I have a peace agreement to broker and a nation to run.” He’d already dismissed her, she realized. He slipped a phone from his pocket and put it to his ear. And then he was speaking in mellifluous Arabic to someone on the other end. When he finished, cool dark eyes raked over her again. “You will come, Miss Sloane, and you will do it now. My lawyer has instructions to purchase your loan from the bank. I assure you he will accomplish this, as I am willing to offer far more than this business is worth.”
Sheridan’s jaw dropped even as a fine sheen of sweat broke out between her breasts. He was quite easily the most obnoxious man she’d ever met. And the most attractive.