He’d gone to his office only twice. Even he found that unbelievable. He knew his staff damned well did.
He’d had good intentions the first time he’d gone to work, but he’d left before hardly anyone had known he was there. He’d thought about phoning John for his car, thought of flagging a taxi, but the streets had been clogged with vehicles, as always, and the fastest way home was to jog.
Which was what he’d done.
One hell of a sight, he was sure, a guy running up Madison Avenue in a Brioni suit and Gucci loafers, then rushing from the elevator into the foyer of his penthouse.
“Rachel?” he’d shouted. “Rachel?”
“Karim?” she’d said, from the top of the stairs. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” he’d replied, taking the stairs two at a time. “Everything,” he’d added, scooping her into his arms and kissing her. “I missed you,” he whispered, and her face had lit with such joy that he’d carried her straight back to bed.
The second time he’d gone to his office he’d stayed just long enough to go through his calendar, assign whatever had to be dealt with to members of his administrative staff, and instruct his P.A. to cancel his appointments and to tell anyone trying to reach him that he was unavailable.
His P.A. had looked at him as if he’d lost his sanity.
“Unavailable, sir?”
“Unavailable,” Karim had said firmly.
Because he was. Unavailable. Unreachable. Incommunicado to anyone but Rachel.
Or Ethan.
The baby was, without doubt, the smartest, most adorable kid in the world.
He giggled with delight when Karim introduced him to the wonders of “I See.” Belly-laughed when Karim lifted him high in the air. Adored having Karim blow bubbles against his tummy.
Laughter, and the love that accompanied it, was not something Karim or Rami had experienced much in their childhoods.
Which had turned him into a man with a heart so well disguised it had been all but non-existent, and Rami into a man who’d frittered his life away.
In some small measure, Karim hoped he could make up for the emptiness of Rami’s existence by raising his son with all the love possible.
The best part was that it was easy to do.
Who’d have thought that he, the all-powerful Sheikh of Wall Street—a laughable title dumped on him in some foolish internet blog—would change diapers, do feedings, walk the floor with a crying child in his arms, sit in the park with Rachel and a baby carriage and be so content that half the time he suspected he had a goofy grin on his face?
God, he was happy.
Though sometimes he caught a look in Rachel’s eyes that worried him.
A darkness.
Maybe he only imagined it.
He had to be imagining it—except there it was again, right now, as she looked out the window of the restaurant into the night: a sudden shift from smiling to something that wasn’t quite a smile, as if a thought, a memory, had surfaced and brought her pain.
“Sweetheart?” he said softly. He saw her throat constrict as she swallowed. When she turned to him her smile was a smile again. Karim brought her hand to his lips. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“You sure? You looked—I don’t know. Sad.”
She shook her head, brought their joined hands to her own lips and kissed his knuckles.
“How could I be sad when I’m with you? I was just—I was just thinking how beautiful it is here.”
“You’re what’s beautiful,” Karim said.
And Rachel thought, as she had thought just a moment ago, If only lies could be untold. If only time would stand still.
Growing up, she’d loathed the slow passage of time.
Of course she knew time moved at only one speed. Sure, she’d bounced from school to school, but she’d read a lot. She’d read everything she could get her hands on.
“Pay half as much attention to how you look as you do to those books,” Mama would say, “you’ll be a happier girl.”
But knowing time could move like molasses dripping from a cold jug had nothing to do with book-learning.
It had to do with … well, with her life.
Mama meeting a new man. Weeks or months taking on a snail’s pace while she lavished all her attention on him until the new man became old news. Then Mama would haul their suitcases from under the bed. A day later they’d be on the Greyhound again, heading for a new town.
That was the only time things moved fast. After that …
A new town. New school. New kids. Rachel not fitting in. Suki running wild. And, always, a new man for Mama.
And time would once again grind to a halt, until Mama would get that look on her face, make her usual little speech about being tired of Jim or Bill or Art, or whatever man had just dumped her, and the entire sad pattern would start over.
So, no.
Rachel had never hoped time would stand still. She’d wanted it to rush on by …
Because she’d never been happy.
It had taken her twenty-four years to figure it out. When you were happy, time standing still was exactly what you wanted.
The first time she’d felt that way was the day Suki had handed Ethan to her.
And now there was this.
There was Karim.
She loved him. She adored him. There were moments she could hardly breathe for the joy in her heart.
Sitting here tonight, her lover across from her, his big hand clasping hers, seeing him smile, having him feed her bits of his lobster, hearing his rough whisper of warning about what he was liable to do if she parted her lips and showed him the tip of her tongue one more time …
If he’d grabbed her from her chair and carried her from the restaurant she’d have let him do it.
Over dinner, he’d talked about his childhood. Like the time he’d sneaked into the palace stables, selected his father’s favorite stallion, put on the bit, bridle and reins and ridden bareback over the desert until his father’s men caught up to him hours later and brought him back.
“My father was furious.”
“I’ll bet. What if the horse had thrown you?”
“He cared about the horse, habibi. He’d paid hundreds of thousands of dollars for it. And I was only seven. Not really big enough to control the animal.”
“He wasn’t worried about you? Oh, that’s terrible!”
“And that’s very nice.”
“What is?”
“The way that tempting mouth of yours just dropped open, as if it needs me to kiss it.” He brought her hand to his lips and bit lightly into it. “Perhaps other parts of you need kissing, too.”
“Hush,” she whispered. “What if someone hears you?”
But she was smiling, and he could tell by the pink blush on her face that what he’d said had pleased her.
Which was excellent, considering that all he wanted was to please her …
Especially tonight. With dessert.
A very special dessert, he thought, as their waiter approached the table.
“Your Highness. Miss.” The waiter grinned. Karim gave him a warning look and the guy quickly cleared his throat. “The chef sends his compliments and says he’s prepared a special dessert.” He shot Rachel a big smile. “In the lady’s honor.”
“For me?” she said with delight.
“Yes, ma’am. If you’re ready, sir …?
Karim nodded. He was ready. Nervous, but ready.
After almost two weeks together, he still couldn’t believe his luck.
That he’d gone to Las Vegas to try to put right the problems his brother had left and had, instead, met this wonderful woman.
What a fool you were, Rami, he thought.
And yet he had Rami to thank for this miracle. Rachel. Her little boy.
He’d have liked to be able to tell him that.
They had been close, once upon a time. Now, in some strange way, he felt close to Rami again.
The only thing that troubled him was trying to accept that Rachel had—had been with Rami.
It wasn’t about sex.
Okay.
Maybe it was, a little.
But he wasn’t a male chauvinist. He came from a culture where women had, until relatively recently, been denied the rights to which men were born, but he’d never considered virginity something he’d demand in a wife.
The problem went beyond that.
He could not imagine Rami and Rachel having a conversation together, much less sleeping together. Rami had been all about the way a woman looked. Rachel was beautiful, but she was much more than that.
She was bright. Articulate. Opinionated.
Definitely opinionated.
He’d been reading a political blog on his laptop this morning; she’d been reading the same blog on his iPad. He hadn’t known she was reading it and he’d mumbled something about it to himself. She’d mumbled back, and the next thing he knew she’d been debating with him for all she was worth.
Rami wouldn’t have given a damn.
He loved it.
Loved her—which brought him back to the beginning. How could there have been anything between two such different people?
He wanted to ask.
But he didn’t.
For one thing, Rachel had made it clear she didn’t want to talk about the time she’d spent with Rami.
For another, he wasn’t sure he’d be comfortable with the answers.
As he’d told her at the beginning, it was best to leave the past in the past and concentrate on today. On right now—because the waiter was coming with dessert.
A fanciful, miniature chocolate Brooklyn Bridge for him …
A scoop of vanilla ice cream for her.
The waiter put the dishes in front of them, shot a conspiratorial grin at Karim, said, “Enjoy!” and almost skipped away.
Karim watched Rachel look from his little bridge replica to her scoop of vanilla ice cream. Her eyes flashed to his and he had to work at not laughing.
She looked like a kid who’d been promised cotton candy and instead was handed a lollypop.
“Mmm,” he said cheerfully. “Looks good.”
“Uh—uh, yes, it looks delicious.”
How he loved her! What other woman would smile as if she was really thrilled to pass up a chocolate sculpture for what appeared to be a scoop of plain vanilla?
Karim picked up his dessert fork and sliced into his dessert.
“Fantastic,” he said. And then, politely, “How’s yours?”
Rachel cleared her throat.
“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” she said, picking up her dessert spoon, dipping it into the ice cream … “Oh.” She smiled with surprise. “There’s a chocolate shell under the—under the—”
“Something wrong?”
“No. Well, maybe. There’s something inside the shell. It’s—it’s—”
She went very still.
Karim put down his fork. His heart was racing.
“Cake?” he said, trying to sound calm. “Strawberries?”
She shook her head. “It’s—it’s …” She looked up again.
Why couldn’t he read the expression on her face?
“It’s a box,” she whispered. “A little blue box.”
Suddenly his carefully crafted, oh-so-romantic plan seemed full of holes. Hell, what did he know about what a woman would or wouldn’t find romantic?
“Rachel,” he said. “Rachel, sweetheart, look, if you want to leave—”
Rachel swallowed hard.
She put down her spoon. Lifted the little blue box from its chocolate shell. Opened it …
A burst of blue-white light seemed to leap from the box to her eyes.
“Karim,” she said. “Oh, Karim!”
It was a diamond ring—but that was like saying that the sun was just another star.
The diamond was huge. It looked as if all the fire that had created the universe had been captured within its blazing heart. It was set in white gold, flanked by sapphires that were the exact shade of the sky on a perfect June morning …
Karim watched Rachel’s face. He waited for her to say something.
She didn’t.
The silence grew.
He wanted to die.
He’d been so careful, selecting the ring when he’d supposedly made a third trip to his office. He knew his Rachel. She would not want anything ostentatious but he wanted something special.
He loved her, and he wanted the world to know it.
He’d spent most of the morning choosing this ring.
Didn’t she like it? Didn’t she want it? Had she thought things over, changed her mind about him? About becoming his wife?
Calm down, he told himself. Relax. Give her another minute, then say something casual. Say, I hope you like it. Or say, If it’s not what you’d have chosen we’ll get something else. Or tell her, I thought this was kind of nice, but it you don’t—
“Dammit, Rachel,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “say something!”
She held the ring in the palm of her hand, looked from it to him.
“It’s—it’s the most beautiful thing in the world!”
Thank God. “I love you,” he said.
“Karim.” Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t—I don’t deserve—”
He took the ring from her, slipped it on her finger. Yes. It was right. It was perfect. It was beautiful—but not as beautiful as she.
“I love you,” he said again, and he pushed back his chair, held her hand, brought her to her feet and took her mouth in a kiss that said, as clearly as words, what he was feeling.
He’d waited all his life for this one woman.
Fate, destiny, karma had meant them to find each other, and to be together for all eternity.
“Rachel,” he whispered, and she gave a soft, sweet cry, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
“I love you with all my heart,” she said through her tears. “I’ll always love you. Remember that. Remember that I’ll always, always love you.”
“Enti hayati, habibi. You are my life.”
Somebody in the room whistled, somebody else applauded, and Rachel blushed the brightest pink he’d ever seen her blush.
And dazzled him with her smile.
He dropped a handful of bills on the table, led her out into the night and took her home, to their bed, to the private little world that belonged only to them.
They slept in each other’s arms.
He woke her during the night and made love to her again. Woke her at dawn to claim her once more.
The next time he woke the room was golden with sunlight. When he saw her lashes flutter, then lift, he smiled.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he murmured.
Rachel smiled. She put her hand against his cheek, rubbing her palm lightly over that deliciously sexy stubble.
“What time is it?” she said sleepily.
He gave her a soft, lingering kiss.
“Time to get showered and dressed, habibi. My plane is waiting.”
A feeling of dread washed over her. She sat up, the bedclothes clutched to her breast.
“Your plane?”
Karim tugged the bedclothes away. Bent his head, kissed her breasts.
“We’re going home,” he said softly. “To Alcantar.”
The plane ride seemed endless—far longer than the one from Vegas to New York.
Roberta had come with them. She and Ethan settled comfortably in the bedroom in the rear of the cabin.
Rachel was full of questions.
“Why didn’t you tell me we were flying to Alcantar today?”
Karim laced his fingers through hers.
“I was going to. Then I thought it would only make you nervous.”
True enough. She wasn’t just nervous, she was terrified. The realization that she was about to meet Karim’s father was daunting.
“But what if he doesn’t l
ike me?”
Karim put his arm around her and drew her head to his shoulder.
“Sweetheart, he will.” He smiled. “Besides, he’s been after me for years to find a proper wife.”
“Am I a proper wife for you?” Rachel said in a small voice.
He laughed and dropped a kiss on her temple.
“You are a proper wife for any man, but especially for one who loves you as I do.” He paused. “I told him about Ethan.”
Rachel looked at him.
“And—and what did he say?”
What, indeed? Karim cleared his throat.
“He was surprised, of course. But my father, for all his—what shall I call it?—for all his imperial attitude, my father is a practical man. He is glad he has a grandson.”
“But—but he thinks—I mean, he knows that Rami—that I—”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Karim hesitated. This was a time for absolute honesty. That was one of the most remarkable things about his relationship with his beautiful fiancée.
They could always speak the truth to each other.
“And,” he said slowly, “he will love you as a daughter—once he gets to know you.”
She nodded.
“But not yet.”
A muscle flickered in Karim’s jaw. His conversation with his father had been a difficult one.
“A woman who would bear a son to a man who has not married her,” his father had said coldly, “is a woman of questionable morality.”
Karim had fought back a hot rush of anger.
“The world has changed, Father.”
“Not our world here in Alcantar.”
Wrong, Karim had thought.
The world had changed, even in Alcantar, and it would change again when he ascended the throne. But there was no sense in arguing the point.
What mattered was making it clear that he would not tolerate any interference in his decision to marry Rachel, or any show of disrespect to her.
“But my world has changed,” he’d said. “Rachel changed it. I love her and I am proud to take her as my wife.”
His father must have heard the steel in his voice because he’d ended the conversation by saying he would see Karim soon.
Very soon, Karim thought, as the plane touched the runway.
The pilot’s disembodied voice floated through the cabin.
Sheikh Without a Heart Page 13
