Exposed The Sheikh’s Mistress

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘You realised that you had an extraordinary gift which few are given. The gift of beauty.’ His voice became cold as he recalled how he had fallen for the oldest trick in the book. ‘Sirens had it, and lured sailors to their death. Men are driven mad by beauty. And you decided to use it as women have used their youth and their looks since the beginning of time. As a bargaining tool.’

  Sienna swallowed, willing herself to float out from her body—to hover suspended in the air above them, looking down at this horrible little scene to hear the words of vitriol which were spitting from his lips.

  ‘With you, presumably?’

  He shrugged. ‘With me, yes—or with anyone else who happened to fit the bill at the time. I do not flatter myself that I would not have been moved aside if somebody even richer than I had stepped into the frame. You wanted a wealthy benefactor and for that you decided to play the Cinderella role. You chose a humble job as a receptionist, where your beauty stood out like…’ He frowned, as if he was trying to remember something, the ebony brows knitting together, and then his face cleared. ‘Ah, yes! Like a diamond in the rough,’ he said softly. ‘Hoping and praying and plotting that someone would sweep in and take you away from all that.

  ‘And I must say that you were very good,’ he continued, eyeing her thoughtfully. ‘Even I was taken in by your deceit. You really did come over as an innocent and unspoilt girl. In a way, I suppose I should commend you for your acting ability!’

  ‘Your English is quite perfect, Hashim,’ she said unsteadily.

  ‘I know it is,’ he agreed arrogantly. ‘I had an English tutor as a young child, and I am as fluent in your language as I am in my own. But why do you change the subject, Sienna?’

  ‘Why do you think?’ She felt as she imagined battered wives might feel. That after a while the punches no longer seemed to hurt. Insult someone enough and eventually the slurs would simply run off their skin like water. Let him rant and have his poisonous say, and then it would be over.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘And still you do not contradict me?’

  ‘What’s the point? You are the worst kind of bigot—for you do not open your mind to the possibility that you might be wrong. You have made your mind up that something is so—and therefore it must be. I’m a topless model without any morals, and now it seems I’m an old-fashioned gold-digger to boot! Nothing will change the way you view me—so why should I even bother trying?’

  ‘Because you have no defence against what I say!’ he accused.

  ‘We aren’t in a court of law!’

  ‘No, but that is where you might have ended up!’ he declared hotly. ‘In the end youdid make the right choice—even though you have had to work hard for a living. But the women who continue along that path so often end up compromised. Next time—or the time after that—the photos that you agreed to do would not have been so tasteful. You would have got older, and as your youth faded you would have become more desperate. Soon you would have accepted less and less for more and more. And one day you might have ended up fully naked on some garage mechanic’s wall in one of those explicit shots—’

  ‘Youbastard !’ she hissed.

  ‘But that is where you are wrong, Sienna. Your barb does not offend me because it is untrue—my birth was completely legitimate. Whereas what I say to youis true. The facts are indisputable.’

  Sienna lifted a hand to the waiter who had begun to hover anxiously on the periphery of her vision. ‘A glass of red wine, please.’

  ‘Yes, madam.’

  ‘You did not storm off,’ he observed. ‘As I suspected you might.’

  Sienna shook her head. Her legs would not have carried her anywhere. She took the wine from the waiter and drank a large mouthful. Gradually its warmth and vitality began to seep through veins which felt as though they had been injected with ice.

  ‘Why does it bother you so?’ she questioned. ‘Haven’t you had girlfriends with questionable pasts before?’

  ‘Of course I have. But they did not pretend to be something they weren’t.’

  There had been women who had made no secret of their hunger for his body and his money. And there had been actresses, too—of course there had—including one who had starred in a film which had broken the mould at the time. Some of the critics had called it soft porn. But none of that had mattered—they had just been cheap flings. What he’d seen had been what he’d got, and he had accepted that.

  With Sienna it had been different—or at least he’d thought it had. They had been much more serious about each other. And when the sordid truth had been revealed to him he had felt outraged. It had made him question himself—he who had never had to question anything.

  To a man impervious to self-doubt it had been a hard lesson to learn—that his judgement was not infallible—but ultimately it had made him stronger. And if there had still been one small fragment of his character which had believed in the fantasy of the perfect woman, then she had banished it for ever. He would never make that mistake again.

  ‘What if…?’ Sienna hesitated, feeling as if she was fighting for more than just her self-respect. She couldn’t bear it when he looked at her that way—with such cold condemnation written in his eyes. ‘What if you could understand my reasons for having done the photos?’

  ‘Greed is never difficult to understand!’

  ‘You have to understand that it wasn’t like that—it really wasn’t! I needed the money urgently.’ She sucked in a breath and it felt like hot fire scorching down her throat. Would he believe her? ‘To pay for an operation for my mother.’

  There was a pause, and then he said, ‘Bravo!’ He gave a small silent handclap and then looked around, an expression of mock amazement on his face. ‘But what has happened to the violins?’ he taunted sarcastically. ‘I can’t hear them. Are there hordes of orphans at the door, too—waiting for you to put food in their mouths?’

  ‘It’s true, I tell you—it’s true!’ She wanted to stand up and rush round and drum her fists against his chest. To shout and to rail against him despite all that she’d vowed. But she couldn’t—was that another reason why he had chosen the restaurant? To protect himself from an emotional scene? To enable him to insult her as much as he liked, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to fight back?

  ‘Whether you choose to believe me or not is up to you—but I’m not lying to you. Why don’t you have one of your henchmen run a check on me?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘What kind of operation? Cosmetic surgery, perhaps? Was she once as beautiful as you, Sienna, and could not accept that time was bleeding her of her beauty?’

  Oh, how he must despise her!Don’t rise to it. Fight your corner with pride and with dignity. Sienna bit her lip as she remembered her mother’s pain and—nearly as bad—her worry. ‘It certainly wasn’t vanity, but neither was it a matter of life or death. Though maybe in a way it was. She needed a hip replacement—she runs a riding school, you see. Without the operation she faced disablement and the closure of her beloved business.’

  Sienna looked down and realised that her hands were shaking, but that was nothing compared to the unsteady racing of her heart. She looked again, and this time there was appeal in her green eyes.Just

  believe me!they said. And never had a sense of injustice burned so strong.

  ‘She was at her wits’ end, Hashim, and so was I. So I took the easy way out—I admit that. I had once been told that I could make a lot of money—that I wasn’t tall enough for the catwalk but that my face and figure could make my fortune. I wasn’t at all interested at the time, but I remembered it when I needed to. And I did it. A one-off which I never repeated nor ever would.’ She stared at him, braving that dark-eyed look of censure. ‘And that’s the truth. I swear it.’

  There was silence for a moment while he brooded on what she had told him. An interesting development—if it was true. And if it was then perhaps it made her actions slightly less contemptible. But did it actually change anything? Make him forgive her f
or what she had done?

  Never!

  In the world Hashim inhabited women were modest and demure, and it was unimaginable to think of them posing naked for money and men’s pleasure. He closed his mind as he pictured the calendar as clearly as if someone had just put it down on the table in front of him. Because they weren’t just nude shots—no matter how ‘artistic’ the photographer had tried to make them. She looked…she looked…He felt an involuntary shudder run through his big body and the pooling of lust in his groin.

  She looked as if she was begging the viewer to drive himself between her silken thighs!

  And no matter what had motivated her it didn’t change the fact that she had posed for the erotic shots. But neither did it change the fact that he wanted her—and he would not rest until he had lost himself in that exquisite body. And only when he had done that, could he cast her aside and forget her.

  He was calm again when he spoke. ‘And your mother—she approved of your actions? Condoned them, perhaps?’

  ‘Of course she didn’t! She didn’t know. Not until afterwards.’ Sienna shrugged and stared down at the fish congealing on her plate. She wanted to say that she had regretted it bitterly ever since—but that wouldn’t be true. She had been glad to help her mother—the only bitterness she had felt was against Hashim, and the way he had made her feel about herself. But even that could not seem to rid her of her longing for him.

  Stupid, hopeless longing. How was it possible for this man to deride her, to criticise and pour scorn on her, and yet she was still drawn to that dark, lean body, wanted to see those black eyes soften with passion once more? ‘So that’s it. Subject closed.’ She lifted her eyes and met his stare with a steady gaze. ‘So now you know—can we please just forget about this whole farce? You can’t possibly want me to work for you—not really. Get someone else to arrange your wretched party for you.’

  The corners of his mouth lifted upwards in a cruel imitation of a smile. She still did not get it! Oh, foolish, foolish woman. ‘On the contrary, Sienna,’ he said softly. ‘I do not want anyone else. It is you I want and you that I shall have.’

  And Sienna began to tremble.

  CHAPTER SIX

  AMONTHwas no time at all—but in a way Sienna was glad that Hashim had demanded such an outrageously short time to arrange his party. If it had dragged on over weeks, then what kind of state might she have found herself in?

  As it was, she had her work cut out to find a venue—and there certainly wasn’t time to think about his thinly veiled threat, or the sensual way he had looked at her.

  Determinedly, she put him out of her mind and holed herself up in her tiny office at her home in Kennington and rang round, using every contact she’d ever made until at last she struck lucky. She could have the use of Bolland House, set in a hundred acres in the glorious Hampshire countryside. She had driven down to see it and had pronounced it perfect.

  She had found a local acclaimed chef who cooked using fresh organic produce sourced from nearby farms. She had chosen flowers, and was bussing in her favourite sommelier—though she had warned him that some of the guests might not be drinking alcohol and asked him to provide a wide selection of soft drinks which were rather more exciting than orange juice!

  In fact everything was now in place…and with just three days to go it felt a bit as she imagined the atmosphere in one of the giant space stations just before they sent a rocket into flight—the tension of the countdown was almost unbearable. Especially in this heat.

  ‘I’m making coffee!’ called a voice from the kitchen. ‘Do you want some?’

  ‘Love some!’ Sienna called back, and sat back in her chair and sighed. It was funny how circumstances could change out of all recognition in such a short time. Up until that meeting with Hashim, Sienna had been utterly contented. She had her little terraced house in Kennington, which she had bought as a neglected and nearly derelict wreck. She had spent every spare minute doing it up—stripping the walls, sanding the paintwork and painting it in light colours, filling it with mirrors to make it seem bigger and brighter. She had saved up to have a new bathroom and kitchen put in and had painted the front door in a deep, dark blue.

  When the house had been habitable, she had taken in a lodger to help with the mortgage—Kat, who was now in her last year of studying languages at a nearby university. And only then had Sienna given herself the luxury of turning her attention to the garden and the challenge of making something pretty out of the small square of ground which had looked like a builders’ yard.

  ‘Coffee’s ready!’ called Kat.

  ‘Coming!’

  Sienna got up and went through to the kitchen, where Kat was just putting the cafetière and mugs onto a pretty spotted tray, her red hair falling over her shoulders. She looked up as Sienna came in and smiled. ‘Shall we drink it in the garden?’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ said Sienna, but she could hear the flatness in her own voice as she went out into the sunshine.

  She felt like an outsider to the rest of the world. Usually she revelled in pride and pleasure at the small oasis she had created in the middle of the city, but not today. She could see the sunlight dappling through the honeysuckle, but she couldn’t seem to smell the fragrant blooms, nor appreciate its simple beauty. Hashim’s reappearance in her life seemed to have sucked the vibrancy out of everything except the memory of his dark and cruel face, and his hard, virile body.

  She took the coffee that Kat poured for her and stared into the cup as gloomily as someone with a fear of heights being told to do a high dive.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’ said Kat.

  Sienna looked up. Her teeth gritted into the bright, cheery smile which she had become rather good at perfecting. ‘Oh, just work. You know. It’s frantic at the moment.’

  ‘You don’t usually complain,’ observed Kat, her eyes narrowing. ‘You’re usually glad when it’s like that.’

  ‘Well, it’s hot, too. Isn’t it?’ Sienna wiped her damp brow with a jokey and exaggerated gesture—because how could she tell Kat what was troubling her, andwhat could she tell her?

  Oh, I had a fling with a sheikh until he discovered that I’d done some topless photos, and then he…he…

  Little beads of sweat studded her forehead and she wiped them away with an angry hand. How awful it sounded when pared down to the basic facts.

  She wouldn’t tell Kat. Because if she told Kat about Hashim then that would give him an identity which would live on for ever. Kat would want to know all about him—who wouldn’t? No, she wouldn’t tell anyone. She would do what he wanted her to do and then hopefully he would leave her alone.

  Hopefully?

  That was part of the trouble, too. He had forced her into this corner and yet a part of her wanted to impress him. To engineer the most wonderful dinner party for him and dazzle him—leaving him with an altogether better memory of her than he currently had.

  And wasn’t there another part of her—a stubborn and stupid and romantic one—which wished that she could just go back and rewrite history?

  Sometimes she started thinking about how it might have been if she’d never done those photos—but then she made herself stop. Thinking like that was a pretty pointless exercise. If she hadn’t been able to come up with the money quickly then her mother’s life would have collapsed around her—and how could she have lived withthat ?

  And even if he hadn’t found out it would never have been anything more than a fling—for how could it have been? What had she been imagining—that he’d buy her a whopping great ring and marry her, take her back to Qudamah as the Sheikh’s wife? Sienna took a mouthful of too-hot coffee and winced.

  ‘Steady,’ warned Kat, only half jokingly.

  ‘Oh, listen—there’s that wretched phone again!’ Sienna leapt to her feet and gave her housemate an expression which said sorry. But in truth she was glad to get away—to keep herself busy instead of fending off Kat’s concerned questions.


  ‘Posh Parties,’ she said as she picked the phone up, and then gripped onto it with whitening knuckles.

  ‘Hello, Sienna,’ Hashim said softly.

  He had the kind of voice which made your skin shiver in spite of yourself, and Sienna closed her eyes in despair. She hadn’t spoken to him since that night in the restaurant, and sometimes she had half imagined that she’d dreamt the whole thing up.

  But life was rarely as kind as that.

  ‘Hello, Hashim,’ she said calmly.

  Most people might have asked if it was convenient to talk, but not him.

  ‘It is done?’ he questioned, watching as a blonde on the other side of the foyer crossed one slim, silk-stockinged leg over another and slanted him a smile.

  ‘Everything is arranged,’ she said mechanically. ‘You got my photos of the venue?’

  ‘Yes.’