Khalifa looked at her now, his eyes dragging over her body slowly.
His eyes were mocking when they met hers; there was a coldness to him she hadn’t appreciated in Sydney. He stared at her lips, pink and soft, parted to let air escape, down lower to the slender column of throat, where her pulse was beating like butterfly wings against glass, lower, to the breasts that were highlighted by the sheathe of her dress. She felt her nipples tighten, and hated that they would be visible to the man’s inspection. Indeed, his grin flicked with acknowledgement as he raked his eyes lower, to her neat waist, and then to her womanhood.
Lower still, and now, she looked away, unable to bear his proprietorial attention for a moment longer. Because it so easily made a mockery of her words. He had made her his. He had imprinted on her soul and her heart and nothing would change that. Even if he didn’t feel the same way.
“You slept with her?” The outrage in the other man was palpable. “You had no right! She has been betrothed to me for years. We have paid millions for her upkeep, with the intention of her marrying me.”
The idea turned Kylie’s stomach but she could barely argue. His words weren’t false, they just weren’t representing the situation properly.
“You were to marry me. And you were to be just for me. That was your part of the deal. And instead you gave yourself to this man like one of his dirty whores?”
Kylie reeled as though she’d been slapped. “He t-told me… I was… you said you were the man I was going to marry.” Her eyes were pleading as she looked from one to the other. The reality of her situation was beginning to unfurl in her brain though and shock was sinking in. She was in danger. This was a foreign country with foreign rules and she’d found herself at the heart of something she didn’t understand.
“As I am.” The man she’d slept with, who’d pleasured her again and again, nodded curtly and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a golden piece of paper and handed it to the other man, who took it instinctively.
“What is that?” Kylie demanded wearily.
“That covers your investment. And your pride.” Khalifa’s smile was menacing. “My guards are outside. I suggest you leave without doing what you’re thinking.”
The smaller man ground his teeth together and Kylie noticed he had a hand balled into a fist by his side. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She’d never seen a fistfight; she’d never so much as looked at a picture of a person after being punched. She averted her gaze now, her body trembling, her mind in shock. She would find a way out of this. She would work it out. The Sheikh, as he’d been in Australia, was a reasonable man.
She heard Fayez walking towards the door, but what happened next was wholly unexpected. Her hair was being pulled, dragging her head back, and a hand was around her throat. She had only the briefest impression of pain – agonizing pain – as breath began to burn inside of her, and then it was over. A single, cracking sound and she was herself again.
It all happened so quickly, she didn’t comprehend it, but Fayez was stumbling
“Get out.” Khalifa placed himself in front of Kylie, his voice ringing with fury. “Now.”
The other man had blood coming from his mouth. So Khalifa had punched him? Kylie’s eyes dropped and yes, she saw blood on Khalifa’s hand and winced. The involuntary reaction made her eyes sting.
“You’ll regret this.” The threat was directed straight at Kylie and she flinched as though he’d touched her again. She was trembling from head to toe and reality was fading in and out. She reached behind her, pressing her hand into the wall for support.
“Get. Out.” Khalifa demanded.
The smaller man did just that, slamming the door behind him and shouting something on the other side. Loud voices could be heard but they were not disturbed. Kylie drew in a breath, rallying her senses, trying to compose her thoughts. But they were tangled beyond comprehension.
“You’re hurt.” Khalifa turned to Kylie, and his look was clinical as he surveyed her. “May I?”
The sob in her chest was inevitable. He had slid a finger inside of her while they’d dined on his yacht; he’d taken her virginity to stop her from marrying into the Haddads and now? He was asking to do something as innocuous as check her injuries?
“I’m fine,” she denied, stepped backwards and connecting with the wall of the room. She lifted a hand to her throat, feeling the sensitive flesh with the certainty there’d be a bruise within hours.
He looked poised to argue but apparently thought better of it. Clever him! In the mood Kylie was in, she was spoiling for a fight.
“I will call a doctor…”
“You will do no such thing,” she interrupted. And perhaps he saw something in her expression – a hint of panic that was bordering on a complete breakdown, because he didn’t push his point. “I’m fine. But I need to know… what the hell is going on?”
He straightened, his expression almost unrecognisable. “Nothing has changed.”
“Like hell it hasn’t. You’re not the man I was supposed to marry, are you?”
A muscle jerked in his cheek. “What difference does it make to you?” The words were scathing. He made no attempt to soften his disapproval. “You valued your choice so little you were happy to marry whomever arrived today.”
Her jaw dropped, her mouth gaping. “That’s not true! I trusted my parents.”
“Your parents sold you, Kylie.” She noted the use of her name, rather than the diminutives he’d employed in Sydney. Little Princess. Azeezi. “They needed money and the Haddad family offered that.”
Kylie swallowed. Her neck was sore and the action hurt. She lifted a hand, unconsciously stroking the sensitive flesh. The gesture brought a frown to Khalifa’s face. He moved to the door without taking his attention from her. He opened it and called something, then moved back to Kylie.
“You were meant to arrive today.” She said the words bleakly, her eyes not meeting his. “I came here expecting to see you.”
His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. “And you are.” He cupped her cheeks, lifting her face to his. “Nothing has changed since Sydney. You will marry me.”
She shook her head, her eyes watery with unshed tears. “No.”
His laugh was soft. “No?”
“You lied to me,” she whispered. “Why?”
“Do you really not know?”
She shook her head, then lifted a hand to the back of her head, where her scalp was sensitive from Fayez’s touch. “You obviously hate him?”
“Fayez? Yes.” He nodded. “But that is not why.”
“So?”
There was a knock at the door and Khalifa called a single word out without shifting his gaze from her face. The door pushed inwards and three men appeared, all wearing the same white robes she’d seen in Sydney.
And then, they paused and bowed, low to the ground, their heads bent towards the floor. Kylie stared at the action with confusion, her eyes moving to … the Sheikh’s. A frown crossed her face.
“The crowds are dispersing, sir,” the man at the back spoke first, straightening and moving towards Khalifa. “The Haddad family is … discontent.”
“Yes, I can imagine.” He tilted his head towards Kylie as if appraising her. “This wedding meant the world to them.”
“You did the right thing to end it.”
Kylie’s heart squeezed in her chest. Did this man know the methods Khalifa had employed to bring about an end to her betrothal? Did he know that Khalifa had flown to Sydney, had lied, had seduced her under the pretence of being someone else?
“Yes.” Khalifa’s eyes glittered in his commanding face. “I need her checked out by a doctor before our ceremony.”
“Wait just a second…”
At her interruption, the three men who’d entered the room stared at her, as though they’d never before heard a woman raise her voice.
“If you think I’m marrying you…”
“Silence.” One of the men spoke, his sho
ck reverberating around the room. Khalifa lifted a hand, a single palm in the middle of the air that stopped whatever else the man was going to say.
“I need someone to tell me what the hell is going on,” Kylie muttered. Again, she felt the collective shock of the three servants, though no one said anything.
“The Haddad family have long since sought to challenge my family’s rule. If Fayez had married you, it would have unified two factions of supporters under one banner. I could not allow it.” Khalifa saw no reason to elaborate on his own personal reasons for wanting to thwart and embarrass Fayez.
She gasped, her mouth dropping open. “I don’t understand.” Was he saying… she looked at the men who were standing to the side, their deference obvious, and she thought back to Sydney, and his obvious wealth and power.
“I am Sheikh Sultan bin Khalifa al Asouri.”
“Sheikh Sultan,” she repeated, her eyes huge. “Does that mean what I think it does?”
He felt his lips twitch with amusement and stifled it. The situation was far from funny. “Yes.”
Flashes of comprehension – the way the crowd had bowed down to him. The deferential way his servants were with him. “You’re … you rule this country?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, boy.” She spun away from him, moving towards one of the enormous windows. She looked out of it without expecting to see anything remarkable, but the streets had filled with people. Absolutely filled. And flashes went off as soon as she appeared at the window.
“Step away, Kylie.”
But she was frozen to the spot, whispers of overheard conversations slamming through her mind like shards of glass she couldn’t quite catch. An ancient feud. Bloodlines. The importance of their family’s history. Alliance.
She squeezed her eyes shut, cursing her idiocy and naivety. Why hadn’t she asked more questions? Why hadn’t she been more inquisitive?
Because you didn’t want to know.
The answer was simple and devastating.
Had she shielded herself from investigating the truth of this situation merely because she knew the answers would only lead to more questions, and eventually, to a decision she wasn’t prepared to make?
She swept her eyes shut at the same moment a pair of strong hands closed over her shoulders, pulling her away from the window, out of view of the curious photographers and spectators below.
“So when you came to Sydney…” She twisted in his arms so that she could see him; nothing in his face offered comfort. “You were always going to … we were always going to…”
“Leave us. Make preparations.” The servants bowed out of the room but Kylie was shaking now.
“No!” She cried the word out on a sob, her eyes sweeping shut. “I can’t marry you.”
“You must.” He lifted a hand and ran it through her hair, so gentle after Fayez’s touch. “If you don’t, the Haddad family will never let you be.”
“But they won’t… want me now.” Her cheeks flushed at the hint of what she wasn’t saying – that they wouldn’t want her because they’d slept together.
“You’re mistaken. They will want you all the more now. Do you want to be tied to people like that?”
A frown spread across her face.
“My parents…”
His voice wasn’t raised, but when he spoke, it was though he was dragging the words over her, lashing her with a whip. “Your parents were mercenaries who sold their only child for a profit, trading on the fact that a long time ago you were the Maha Ishan not the Mathisons.”
Maha Ishan. The ancient words throbbed in her belly. How long it had been since she’d heard that? The name her family had once been known by, generations and generations into the past.
But Khalifa was speaking, not letting her brain dwell on the title she had long since forgotten. “And make no mistakes, azeezi, they did sell you. This was not an act of kindness or love, it was an act of greedy desperation and profiteering. You think you can trust them and their choices? Believe me when I tell you how disastrous your marriage would have been.”
She gasped, her eyes clouding over. “I don’t believe you. They loved me. They wouldn’t … they wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. They wanted me to be looked after. They… I don’t believe you.” Full-blown tears were not far away. She felt them cloying at her already sore-throat and bit down, hard, on her lip.
He stared at her for a long second, the truth he would never divulge looming in his mind like a shadow in the distance. “You have two choices. You can marry me, and come under my protection. Or you can take your chances with them.”
Chapter 5
KYLIE DIDN’T REALISE HOW badly she was shaking until he frowned.
“I want to go home.” The words, though defiant, came out like tremulous little whispers. She groaned. What was happening to her. “I’ve been so stupid. How could I have ever gone along with this?”
She thought, for a moment, there was sympathy in his expression, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. A flash of emotion and then nothing. Cold, implacable, unreadable power.
“Trusting your parents was stupid,” he agreed after a moment. “But understandable.”
“Gee, thanks.” She spun away from him, moving quickly through the room. But it was all odd. Unfamiliar. Breathing was difficult and she pressed her hands to her flat stomach in the hope it would bring relief. It didn’t. She sucked in a deep breath; no help there. Her lungs burned; her throat ached.
“Sit down,” he commanded, his shoulders squared.
She didn’t hear. There was a ringing in her ears, and a swirling in her gut. Her brain was fogged and the air around her seemed thick; impossible to wade through.
He said something low and harsh in his own language and crossed to her, his hands on her shoulders confident and controlling as he guided her to a tapestried chaise. “Sit.”
But he was gentle as he guided her down, insistently placing her on the sofa and crouching before her. “Put your head down.”
Tears stung in her eyes but she did as he said, resting her head forward. He nudged it deeper, so that she was doubled over, her head between her legs. And he spoke quietly in his own language, low and soft, words that were thick with the desert and the stars, the heaviness of the world that surrounded them, these ancient lands so proud and exquisite. He spoke rhythmically, his words distracting her, hypnotising her, as her breath burned and her body quaked.
He continued to speak and she listened, and finally the breath that had been impossible to find settled in her body, in and out, ebbs and flows, reminding her that she was alive and this was life. Just another hurdle in life – one she would navigate as she’d navigated all others.
In, out. In, out. Steady and slow.
“You could not marry that man,” Khalifa said after several moments, when the panic attack – for surely it had been? – had passed. “He would have made you miserable.”
“As opposed to you?” She muttered, her head still pressed between her legs.
He gripped her shoulders gently, lifting her higher, and then, with a look she couldn’t comprehend, he lifted his hands to her throat, touching the markings Fayez had inflicted. “I will never hurt you.”
The words were strange. Sweet and kind and yet she shook her head. “Not hurting me isn’t exactly a particularly high benchmark to aim for.” She whispered her response and something like magic wrapped around them. A spell she didn’t comprehend.
“Why do you want to marry me, anyway?” She bit down on her lip, and her heart stretched, waiting, paused, needing something. She couldn’t have said what.
He practically grimaced. “I told you. If I don’t marry you, they will find you. And your life will be … miserable.”
A shudder ran down her spine like ice and nails. “Why?”
“Because you betrayed them – with me. And they hate me more than you can imagine.” He stood, putting some space between them. The desolation was instant. A fog of coldness spread over
her.
“There are many people who know the history of your family. The power is still heavy in our society. Marry me and they will be appeased. It will end, once and for all, the Haddad family’s meddling.”
Kylie nodded, but it was the smallest movement. More of a shudder. “I didn’t think this through. I don’t know why. It sounds crazy now, sitting here with you…”
“Yes.” His eyes narrowed speculatively. “It does. And yet we spoke in Sydney, a month ago, and I asked you why you would do something as outmoded as partake in an arranged marriage. You had every opportunity to back out…”
“I couldn’t.” Her eyes were huge and she shut them to hide the swirling emotions that would surely be obvious to him. Because once she’d met the man she thought to be her intended groom, she hadn’t wanted to back out of the wedding. It had made her more determined than ever to go ahead with it.
Argument communicated itself in every line of his body but he didn’t say anything for several long beats. Silence throbbed around them.
“The official will marry us now. Do you need a moment to freshen up?”
It was a tornado spinning wildly around her, sucking everything she thought she’d known about herself and her life into a strange and confusing vortex. How must she look? Did she even care?
She stood unevenly, her legs shaking, and moved towards the mirror opposite. Her neck was dark from Fayez’s touch and her hair was messed. Her makeup had run – tears? She didn’t remember crying. She turned to face Khalifa, her eyes not quite meeting his.
“I don’t want to marry you today.”
He let the words digest and then shook his head. “Marriage is the only way.”
“I’m not saying I won’t marry you,” she whispered, digging her nails into her palms. “Only that … not today.”
“It is just a day.”
“It’s the day I was attacked. And the day I realised the man I lost my virginity to was lying to me – was using me.” She gripped the wall behind her for support, hating herself for showing this weakness to him but needing him to understand. “I can’t marry you today.”
Marrying Her Enemy & Stolen by the Desert King Page 18
