KRISTI GOLD - The Sheikh's Secret Heir

“The only time we had sex,” she interjected.

He hoped to change that soon, yet he would use gentle persuasion, not coercion. “As I was saying, I would never force you to do what you do not wish to do. And I assure you, my motives involve business, not necessarily pleasure, although I am not averse to that.”

“You’ve made that quite clear, and that worries me,” she said as she brushed past him and claimed the chair he had recently vacated.

Following her lead, he dropped onto the leather sofa across from her. His eyes followed the movement of her hand as she ran her palm down her thigh to smooth her skirt. He immediately imagined that hand on his body and then, with effort, forced the fantasy away. “Rest assured, if you join me, I will maintain my distance if that is what you desire.”

“That’s what I desire,” she stated, yet her faltering gaze led Tarek to believe she was not at all certain.

“I will respect your wishes.” Unless their incontrovertible chemistry dictated otherwise.

She appeared unconvinced. “Tarek, you’re a brilliant businessman, but you’re still a man. You possess two brains and if the situation arises, so will your secondary brain. You would have to maintain a great deal of control.”

He would not attempt to debate her on that point. “You will have your own quarters at your disposal and you will have to endure my presence only during our business dealings.”

She began to twirl the silver band on her right ring finger. “Look, I enjoy your company and I have since we first met. I’m just not in the market to enjoy it too much again.”

Feeling satisfied over the admission, he inclined his head and studied her. “Then you did enjoy our encounter?”

She hesitated a few seconds. “I suppose I have to admit that I did, with the exception of the marble floor.”

“That is why I allowed you to be on top.”

“After you had me on my back.”

“On your back so that I could quickly remove your clothes and run my mouth down your body to facilitate your—”

“We don’t need to go there.”

He could not suppress a grin. “Ah, but I already have, and considering the sounds you made, I do not believe you were disappointed.”

She quickly stood and sighed. “I’m not in the mood to take a journey down memory lane, so I’m going to return to the palace now.”

Tarek came to his feet. “Shall I expect you on the plane tomorrow?”

When she did not immediately respond, he held his breath and hoped. “I’ll let you know tonight, when you’re dining at the palace.”

He frowned. “I did not realize you were aware of the invitation.”

She sent him a disparaging look before crossing the room. “It’s my job to know everything about the royal family and their esteemed guests,” she said on her way out.

After she disappeared, Tarek checked his watch, reclaimed his chair and picked up the phone to make his daily call to the other female in his life. If he did not do it soon, he would regret the oversight. A few moments passed before he was greeted with the familiar, quiet, “Ahlan?”

He opted to answer in English, not Arabic, to test her acumen, as he had since teaching her the language. “Did you receive my gift, Yasmin?”

“I did!” she said with the marked exuberance of a typical five-year-old. “He is lovely.”

That was not how he would describe the street-roving mutt. “I am glad you are pleased. Will you take good care of him?”

“Yes, I will. I promise to feed him and give him water and take him for walks. What shall we name him?”

“That is entirely up to you, Yasmin.”

“I will have to think about it. When are you coming home? Soon, I hope.”

No matter what said he told her, he would disappoint her. “I told you about the new resort before I left Morocco. I still have much work to do on it.”

“You are always working. I wish you would take me with you.”

That would be impossible at this point in time. Very few knew of her existence, and he wanted to keep it that way. “Perhaps someday. In the meantime, take care.”

“I will.”

“I shall see you in a month when I return.”

A span of silence passed before she said, “I miss you.”

“I miss you as well, Yasmin.” And he certainly did, though too much affection would serve neither of them.

As soon as he hung up the phone, Tarek began to contemplate his previous conversation with Kira and her erroneous assumptions.

It’s my job to know everything about the royal family and their esteemed guests...

Little did Kira know, she was not privy to most aspects of his private life, as it had been with all friends and former lovers. Not only in regard to the child, but she was also unaware that he retained an important piece of the Mehdi puzzle. Only he held the key and no one else, not even the current monarch and his brothers. He harbored a great secret that might have died along with his parents, save an old man’s conscience and overwhelming guilt.

Since gaining that knowledge, he had been bound by a pledge to keep the information guarded out of respect for his mother, yet he had grown weary of the pretense. He wanted answers. He demanded answers. He vowed to do whatever he must to gain that information, and he hoped Kira Darzin could aid him in his search.

From the minute he’d met her, he had sensed she would know much about the Mehdis, and he would continue to gain her trust in an effort to convince her to confide in him. That had been his primary goal in the beginning, until he had crossed the boundaries into ill-advised desire. He had not intended to be as preoccupied by her and he would do well not to let his base urges rule his rationality.

If his plan with Kira did not succeed, he would continue to covertly search for confirmation through every means possible, work his way into the royal sons’ good graces, then he would properly introduce himself as the bastard son of the former king of Bajul.

Their brother.

Two

Every evening at six o’clock sharp, Kira prepared to deliver her usual courtesy call. It was incumbent that she made certain all needs were met, though tonight that wouldn’t be easy, considering she would have to face the father of her child. After she walked into the elaborate dining room, she found the lengthy mahogany table populated with the usual royal residents—King Rafiq and his wife, Maysa, along with the newlyweds, Adan and Piper—and one not-so-usual sophisticated man dressed in a beige silk suit, sitting to the right of Rafiq. Anyone who didn’t know the Mehdis might mistake Tarek Azzmar as a relative, when in reality his only ties to the royals were big business, Middle Eastern roots and an abundance of good looks.

When Tarek leveled his gaze on her, Kira’s thoughts spun away like a desert whirlwind. She sincerely wanted to look away, yet it was as if he had her completely under some macabre magical spell. “Magical” would definitely describe his thorough kisses, his very skilled hands, his expertise at lovemaking, his obvious virility....

“Is there another bun in the oven, Kira?”

Taken aback by Adan Mehdi’s query, Kira directed her attention to the youngest prince, her face splashed with heat. “Excuse me?”

He held up the empty basket. “We are out of bread.”

Apparently, she was plagued by secret pregnancy paranoia. “I’ll see to that immediately.”

“And, Kira, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like more water, please,” Adan’s auburn-haired wife added as she leaned back in the chair, providing a peek at her rounded belly. “I’m so thirsty I think I’m giving birth to a trout, not a mammal.”

Kira experienced a brief bout of envy when Adan and Piper exchanged a loving look. At least they had each other. At least Piper wouldn’t be raising her baby alone.