Lucy and the Sheikh(10)

“Any particular reason?”

“I write the occasional travel piece. The magazine editor’s keen for one on a country few know anything about.”

“My father’s decision to isolate our country from the West was no doubt the best one at the time. But times have changed. I think your reports could be very helpful to us. Is there anything in particular you wish to know?”

What the hell’s happened to my sister? Lucy sucked in a raw breath—the dry air-conditioned air ripping through her lungs. “Sitra’s heritage, its culture, of course, and also the kind of things that could attract a twenty-first-century tourist. Someone like me.” Someone like Maia.

“I will show you around, personally and my staff will make sure you have everything you require.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“Kind?” The repeated word was softly spoken, barely breathed, but it sent shivers of anticipation skittering up and down Lucy’s body as she contemplated what it was the King would gain from this personal attention. “I’m sure I will enjoy it. Alex, perhaps you’d send Miss Gee’s things to the palace.”

Alex was sitting back in his chair, arms crossed, unable to stop a grin from spreading across his face. “Sure.”

The King’s eyes never left hers and Lucy’s heart raced; heat shimmered through her body, despite the air conditioning, and it felt as if they were the only two people in the room. And then he smiled: his lips quirking briefly at the corners, as if in both acknowledgement of their unspoken exchange, and of dismissal. He shifted in his seat and turned to Alex, talking amiably as if nothing had happened.

It was as if the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving her alone in darkness. She turned around to see if anyone had noticed her sudden vulnerability—she was never vulnerable, she was always the strong one—but everyone else was focused on the conversation between Alex and the King. They were all too caught up with the opportunity to continue their work, researching the reef and marine life off the coast of Sitra. None of the others had noticed the intensity of their exchange. For a brief moment she wondered if it had been all in her imagination. But no, a quick, curious glance from the King and she saw she hadn’t imagined any of it.

She focused on her hands that were tightly clasped in her lap and let the conversation flow over her, as she tried to contain the deep-seated guilt that stirred in the pit of her stomach. She was lusting after someone who was implicated in the disappearance of her sister. She’d thought she’d anticipated every eventuality but this had never occurred to her. Her mind was set—she had to find out what happened to Maia. But her body swayed, drawn by this stranger’s scent, mesmerized by his eyes, melting under his touch. She wrung her hands together more tightly, desperate for control. The last image her sister had posted on Facebook floated into her mind—a beaming smile for the paparazzi as she leaned into the embrace of a tall, dark man—the King of Sitra.

Suddenly she realized the talk had come to an end. She looked up to see people were standing as the King made arrangements to see Alex in a few weeks’ time. The crew came to say their farewells to Lucy and she clung too long to Alex, aware of the King’s frown. Alex drew her to one side.

“You OK, Luce?”

She drew in a deep breath and nodded too vigorously. “Sure.”

“Come back with us if you want,” he whispered. “But, you know, the King’s a good man. You’ll be safe in his hands. I’ve known him since we were seven years old. Your choice.”

She was filled with gratitude for the kindness of this man whom she’d only known a few weeks. “I’ll be fine. Just feeling a bit hot under these robes.” She grinned. “Thanks, Alex, for everything. I’ll be OK. It’s what I want.”

He grinned. “You’ll be fine. You have my phone number if you need me.” He squeezed her hands in his and walked over to his team who were talking with the King. When they’d finished, the King stepped back to where his bodyguards stood. It was a signal the audience was at an end. He swept out of the room without a second glance at Lucy. People disappeared from the many doors that lined the reception room and after a few hugs and farewells, Maia watched her friends disappear to attend the meetings the King had arranged with his own team of scientists.

As her colleagues left the room, part of her wanted to run after them and cling to them and beg them to take her back with them. But that part was the coward who’d let Maia step in front of her and defend her against school bullies. The same scared part that would watch as Maia lied to authorities about who looked after them. Maia had had no qualms about such things; she’d believed she was quite capable of looking after her little sister—Maia had been sixteen after all.