“Is that it?” Olivia asked, staring out of the window at the blanket of black sky that stretched all around the private jet of the Sultan of Talidar.
“For now. He will have papers for you to sign before we land.”
“Papers?”
“Protecting your interests as well as mine,” he said, waving a hand in the air. “As well as your mother’s.”
Olivia didn’t flinch. Her mother’s situation required her to cooperate completely with Tamir. When James Anderson had died suddenly, two years earlier, it had plunged Tabitha into a complete and total well of depression. She’d drunk and taken drugs to self-medicate, and it had been months before Olivia had even realised what was going on. In that time, Tabitha had lost her job, lost her home, and also her health.
With Olivia’s help, and constant attention, Tabitha was slowly rejoining the world, but she still had a long way to go in her recovery. “You organised a nurse for my mother?”
“I will, when you give me more information about her requirements.”
Olivia lifted her gaze, to stare at him heavily. “She needs someone to be with her.”
“Yes,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “You said as much. But why? What is the nature of her illness?”
Olivia’s stare was loaded with anger. “That’s none of your damned business.”
He admired her fighting spirit, despite the situation she found herself in. “Is it a secret illness?” He chided softly, leaning forward in the plush leather seat, so that his eyes were only inches from hers.
“No. Don’t be absurd. But you don’t need to know the ins and outs of my mother’s life to arrange a suitable carer for her.”
“I will determine what I do and do not need to know.”
Olivia pressed her lips together. “So this is part of our agreement, too? I don’t get any secrets?”
He didn’t react, but his stare was scathing. He thought her childish, and to some extents, he was right.
Olivia shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “She’s been through a tough time, that’s all. She’s getting better, but I still have to keep an eye on her.”
Tamir’s expressive dark eyes narrowed. “Are you being intentionally vague?”
“No,” she grunted, crossing her arms. She could no longer meet his eyes, and instead, focussed on the elaborate chandelier that hung in the middle of the plane. “My mum is depressed. It happened just after dad died. She hit rock bottom.”
A tingle ran down Tamir’s spine. He understood depression better than most. He’d had a front row seat to the insidious beast it could be. “Meaning?”
“She self-medicated with whatever she could find, to make the pain less profound. I didn’t know.”
Again, that sense of comprehension filled him. “You were doing your own grieving, I imagine.”
“It’s no excuse. I should have realised.”
He didn’t say anything about that. It wasn’t his place. And sympathy for this woman was not something he was prepared to feel, even though he could appreciate the worry she’d been experiencing. “And now?”
“She’s doing better, as I said. But I always worry that she’s only one bad day away from all that again.”
“I see.”
He looked at her for a few moments, then reached across and picked up a newspaper. Olivia turned and watched as he flapped open the cover and casually began to regard the inside text. And that was it.
No sympathy.
No reassurances.
Nothing. It was like opening up to a brick wall.
She sank further down into her seat and did her best impersonation of a belligerent teenager. Her scowl was particularly impressive. The bleak darkness beyond the jet perfectly echoed her feelings. She was tired, suddenly. Tired of worrying and stressing and working so hard.
Working!
She sat bolt upright in the seat.
“Tamir,” she murmured. “I have to let my boss know that I’m away.”
He shrugged. “Be my guest.” He nodded towards the phone mounted beside his seat.
“Now?”
“If it’s worrying you.”
She checked her watch. It was not yet nine o’clock in England. She reached across for the phone, ignoring the way her body seemed to spark when her arm brushed against his leg. The phone was substantial in her hand.
“Do I need a dialling code or anything?”
Tamir made an impatient sound and put his newspaper aside. “What is the number you are calling?”
Olivia fished her phone from her pocket and found her boss’s mobile, then handed the phone to Tamir. He looked at the number and then deftly dialled into the aeroplane receiver. He passed it to Olivia without a sound, but his silence spoke volumes. Feeling stupid and technologically illiterate, not to mention unsophisticated as hell, she leaned back in her own chair and twisted the phone cable around her pointer finger.
It made a high pitched beeping noise then began to ring. Elise picked up on the third ring.
“Darling, it’s me.”
“Olivia? Where are you calling from? It sounds crackly.”
Olivia’s cheeks infused with colour. Tamir was studying her without bothering to hide his fascination. Who was she referring to as ‘darling’?
“Um, yes, must be a bad connection. Listen, I have to take some time off. I have a … family situation.”
“I hope it’s nothing serious?”
The sound of her friend’s concern brought tears to Olivia’s eyes. She blinked them away furiously. “I’ll be fine. I just need some time.”
“Of course. You have months of leave owing in any event. I’ll let HR know.”
“Thank you.”
“Olivia? Keep me posted. Let me know you’re okay when you can.”
“I will. I’ll call you soon. Thanks, honey.” She handed the phone back to Tamir without meeting his eyes.
He pressed the hang up button but didn’t replace the phone. “Do you need to call your mother?”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You seem to lie deftly. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Olivia could no longer keep the tears in check. One slid down her cheek and she wiped it away with her palm.
“What is her number?”
Olivia recited it by heart, and then took the receiver, careful not to touch Tamir’s fingers. Her mother was surprisingly easy to explain things to. Though she had spent the last few years slavishly devoted to Tabitha, from time to time, she’d had work requirements that had necessitated time away from the apartment. She made up a collection that needed her attention and disconnected the call.
Though Tabitha had taken the information well, Olivia felt uneasy.
One look at Tamir’s face though and she knew she couldn’t speak to him about her feelings. He was her captor, not her ally. He had been her lover, and would be again, but he would never be her friend. He was capable of giving her pleasure, but not kindness. Never kindness.
She returned to her vigil of the everlasting darkness beyond the aeroplane and tried not to think about what awaited her in Talidar.
Ironically, her time in Liya formed some of her most pleasant memories. Exploring the ancient and beautiful city, with its wide boulevards, expensive shopping precincts and historically rich culture, had provided endless hours of amusement. Though the values were conservative, she hadn’t been bothered by that at all. She hardly drank, didn’t smoke, had no interest in the night lift. And the city was safe. The police presence was strong, yet apparently unnecessary. She’d walked alone much of the time, stopping as she wished to take photographs and write down descriptions or thoughts.
Yes, Liya was beautiful. The Talidarian people were beautiful. Nothing about the country itself worried her.
It was the man opposite. Brooding, strong, harsh, unreasonable Tamir Al’ani. What had she been thinking? Getting involved with a man such as he had been a gross miscalculation. Intro
ducing Jack into his orbit even more so.
For Jack was an unpredictable, loose canon. She’d seen him pilfer tomatoes from Tescos, and drive away from petrol stations without paying for fuel. But never something as brazen and idiotic as this. The irony was that Jack’s family was one of the wealthiest in the United Kingdom.
She groaned softly, unaware of the way Tamir looked at her sharply. She pulled her legs to her chin, flipping her toes over the edge of her seat. She looked like a small child, though she didn’t know it.
“It is a long flight. You should sleep.”
Olivia nodded, but didn’t look at him.
Tamir felt reassurances tripping over his tongue, but he would not dignify the situation by uttering them. He didn’t want to analyse his degree of fury. She’d lied to him. She’d intended to steal from him. And she’d been prepared to sleep with him in order to carry out her plan. It was degrading and disgusting.
Despite this, she was still an incredible lover. A match for him in every way, his body had responded to hers with a fervour he hadn’t known before. He could ignore his dislike of her so long as the pleasures of her body were at his disposal.
And they would be. He’d made sure of that.
As if his thoughts had conjured Kalil back, his security chief began stalking towards them, from the back of the plane where the staff remained during flight.
“The papers are filed. It is done.” Kalil remarked in their native language.
“You have my thanks,” Tamir responded, thinking he’d deal with the consequences of this hasty decision at a later date.
“She will need to sign this.”
“I’m aware. Leave it with me.”
Kalil handed a simple piece of paper to Tamir and then disappeared swiftly.
Tamir looked at the woman across from him, and for the first time since setting this plan in motion, he felt a tiny niggle of doubt. She was, after all, a human being. Not his to control, yet he was controlling her. Effortlessly.
“Sign this, Olivia.” He passed the sheet of paper to her then pulled a pen from his breast pocket.
She took it and looked at the paper. “It’s in Talidarian.”
“It simply reiterates what you’ve already agreed to.”
She knew she shouldn’t sign it. After all, only an idiot would sign a document they didn’t comprehend. She looked down at the pen. “Is this real gold?”
“Yes.”
She flicked a disdainful look towards him. “What does it say?”
His eyes narrowed. “Nothing you haven’t already agreed to, and in the presence of my security chief. This is simply a formality. Sign it or not, it’s your decision.”
Olivia bit down on her lip, staring at the black and white shapes. He was right. She’d already verbally agreed to their deal. What else did she have to lose? She scrawled her name on the page, and looked up into his darkly challenging gaze.
“My assistant Eleni has organised a wardrobe for you in the palace. However, there is a gown you will need to wear when we land. It’s in the bedroom.”
“Oh.”
“Come.” He stood, and held a hand to her. “I will help you.”
Olivia’s enormous green eyes linked with his. The uncertainty he felt in them was a palpable force, punching him in the gut and making him experience a fresh wave of guilt. “I don’t need help.”
“Nonetheless…” He murmured, linking his fingers through hers and pulling her out of the seat. She fell into step beside him, but felt like she was betraying everything she held dear by being such a pushover. Her eyes drifted to the group of staff at the rear of the plane. Perhaps twenty men, and a handful of women, were involved in their own duties. Some were quietly speaking to one another, and others were sitting silently.
None of them so much as looked in Tamir’s direction, as he moved deeper into the plane. He moved past his staff, past two closed doors, and then into a final door.
The bedroom was as perfectly appointed as one might find in a luxury hotel. A king size bed, with a chandelier above it, was central in the room. A wardrobe, albeit bolted to the wall, was beside it, and a desk in the corner. Apart from the distinctive windows, nothing about this felt remotely plane-like.
Tamir released his grip on Olivia’s hand and walked across to the wardrobe. He removed a turquoise dress and a transparent sheath of fabric.
“Undress yourself,” he commanded, running his tanned fingers over the hanger and removing the dress.
Olivia stood nervously at the entrance of the room. She was hovering on the threshold, unsure of what to expect. Certainly unsure of how to behave.
She was the proverbial rabbit in the headlights, her eyes huge, her face pale. Tamir’s annoyance was obvious in every tense line of his muscular frame. He tossed the dress onto the bed and moved to Olivia, closing the door with his foot.
“Are you nervous?” He demanded, removing her jacket swiftly, then unfastening her shirt buttons.
Olivia made a sound of surprise and lifted her hands to shove his away. He continued as though she hadn’t even made the attempt. “Nervous?” Her voice was croaky.
“About your obligations to me.”
She swallowed. “No.” She lowered her gaze. Nervous was the wrong word. She was sad. She was hurt. She was, if she were to be completely honest with herself, feeling even a little sorry for herself. Sure, she knew that wasn’t a worthy trait, but she felt bitterly disappointed that a night with this sexy stranger had turned into… this. The first time she’d done something so completely reckless, and it had backfired spectacularly.
Olivia was forced to acknowledge that her instincts about Tamir had been completely wrong. Far from being a handsome and mysterious stranger, he was a diabolical dictator. And damn it, she still wanted him. She might hate him on some level, but she also desperately craved his touch.
“Then get changed.”
She nodded jerkily. She had agreed to this. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her mental struggle with it. She lay her jacket and shirt down on the bed. They were mocking her. The outfit she’d chosen earlier that day because it had seemed ‘safe’. Corporate and reassuring, an outfit designed to keep the tug of desire at bay.
She stepped out of her pants and placed them on the bed, too. In only her bra and underpants, she strode across to Tamir. His eyes were hooded, his expression inscrutable, as he lifted the turquoise dress and passed it to her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her body aching to press against him. She resisted the temptation. It was completely inappropriate that she should want him. That she should crave his touch. She stepped into the dress and pulled it over her hips, skimming the fabric higher, until she could hook it across her shoulders.
“Would you mind?” She asked quietly, turning her back to Tamir so that he could help her with the zip. It began low on her back and slid right to the base of her neck.
“Of course,” he murmured throatily, his voice husky with feeling. His fingers were slow, dragging the zip higher with one hand, while his other held her hip and stroked her side.
She didn’t know if he was experiencing a similar internal battle to her own. Her own wants and needs were in a constant battle with how she should be feeling.
She tried to ignore the flutter of butterflies in her stomach, but they were too pervasive. His fingers reached her neck, and slowly Olivia spun to face him.
Their eyes locked, and a silent understanding seemed to pass between them. Olivia wasn’t sure what it was, but she felt reassured by something in his expression. “Tamir,” she whispered, putting one of her hands down on his own, where it sat on her hip. “Please let me explain. About Jack.”
His eyes flashed with a torrent of emotion. He shook his head silently. “It is not the time.”
“When will be?” She demanded uncertainly. Another thought occurred to her, causing her to frown. “And where is Jack? What happened to him?”
“Nothing,” Tamir responded, his
voice devoid of emotion. “He has been left to go free. No consequences for him.”
“Good.” She nodded. “Thank you.”
Tamir stepped away from her without losing eye contact. “What is he to you, that you would so willingly sacrifice your own freedom to protect his?”
“It wasn’t his freedom but his life that I was protecting, remember?”
“Ah, yes, of course. And you would be willing to do anything to save him.”
Olivia bit down on her lip, as she shook her head from side to side. Her blonde hair moved with her, reminding him of sunshine on water. “Not quite anything.”
He laughed. “Where do you draw the distinction, then?” He reached for the pale piece of transparent fabric and ran it through his hands.
“I don’t understand?” She asked quietly.
“What would you not do, to save his life? You have come to a foreign country with me, a man you hardly know. You are essentially my prisoner, Olivia, for the time being at least. So what would you consider too far? What would you not be willing to do to save your co-criminal?”
She ignored the desire to squeeze her eyes shut. Instead, she pierced him with her silent pride. “I will never love you. I will never even like you. I will never give you the satisfaction of letting you upset me.” She stepped forward, so that they were almost touching. “I won’t attempt to deny that you have my body. You command it, and it is yours whenever you want it. But that’s not me. Not really. You’ll never have me.”
It was with the greatest effort imaginable that Tamir didn’t react. He wasn’t even sure how her calmly delivered explanation made him feel. Angry. Displeased. And determined to prove her wrong.
His lips were a slash in his face. “Put this on, Olivia. You will need to wear it from now on, unless we are alone.”
He lifted the piece of fabric over her head, draping it halfway back from her crown and then looping it around her neck. Olivia lifted her fingers on instinct, to touch the fabric.
“It’s so soft,” she murmured, turning to look in the mirror opposite.
“Yes. It’s a special type of Talidarian silk, called Meftila.”
“Meftila?” She repeated, knowing she had heard the term before, but unable to instantly recall any details.
Sheikhs: Rich, powerful desert kings and the women who bring them to their knees... Page 38
