The Sheikh's Bride of Convenience (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 15)

by Cara Albany

  The Sheikh's Bride of Convenience

  (Qazhar Sheikhs series)

  Book 15

  By

  CARA ALBANY

  CHAPTER ONE

  This was going to be the last time she would see him, Grace Collins told herself as she stepped through the revolving glass doors and entered the reception area of the tallest building in Qazhar.

  His building, she reminded herself.

  Of course it was, she thought with a wry smile. Nothing but the best and the largest would do for Qazim Al Shirah.

  The sheikh who had been her lover these past two months.

  The sheikh she would soon leave for good.

  If this last evening together went according to Grace's plan.

  Her heels clicked noisily on the marble floor as she made her way toward the reception desk. The man behind the wide wooden desk smiled in recognition at Grace. He obviously remembered her previous visits. There was a knowing look in the man's eyes, as if he understood that Grace was the sheikh's woman.

  That thought made Grace's jaw tighten. That was how Qazim had described her.

  His woman.

  He'd whispered to her during those quiet moments after making love.

  Grace belonged to him.

  She was his possession.

  The memory of those words, the way he'd breathed them into her ear, seared her with heat and with indignation.

  She belonged to no-one. How dare he try and claim her like some prize possession!

  Grace paused at the desk and peered expectantly at the man, watching as he lifted a phone and spoke into it. Amongst the Qazhar words, Grace heard her name being mentioned. She heard Qazim's deep growl, quiet and inaudible, but unmistakably his.

  Grace ran a hand down the length of her blue dress. The one he liked so much. It was a tight-fitting outfit, silky smooth and low cut. It clung to her full, but petite figure, all the way down to the hem above her knee.

  She wondered why she had chosen this outfit. Perhaps she meant for it to be one last reminder of what he'd be missing after she was out of his life for good.

  Grace leaned against the desk and peered out through the tinted glass windows. She could see the lights of passing cars moving swiftly past the entrance of this imposing structure. Even in the early evening, the center of Qazhar city was busy.

  Grace was glad there was no-one else around. But, then again, she knew that most of the offices on each of the building's one hundred floors had closed for the day.

  There was only one residence in the awe-inspiring edifice. Only one private apartment located, inevitably, on the top two floors.

  Qazim's apartment. His domain, from where he could survey the entirety of the city far below. From where he could view his world. The world into which he'd tried to so hard to draw Grace. He'd swept into her life like a force of nature. It had been exhilarating, passionate and exciting.

  It had also been terrifying.

  The time had come to put an end to it, Grace told herself. She straightened, feeling a tug of impatience.

  The receptionist nodded to Grace and she made her way to the area where the elevators were located. She walked past the elevators used by the workers in the offices. At the far end of the marble corridor she came to a solitary elevator, set apart from the others. This was Qazim's private elevator. Only he was allowed to use it. And Grace, of course, in recent weeks. Only Qazim could control access to his top-floor apartment.

  Grace paused and smiled as she saw the doors slide slowly open.

  He had granted her entrance. Somewhere up there he was waiting, preparing to greet her. Completely oblivious of her intentions.

  Grace stepped inside. She felt cool air caress her bare shoulders. In spite of her resolve, she shivered. It wasn't that she was fearful. Far from it. If anything, she was completely determined to see this through.

  The doors closed and, as so many times before, she wondered if there was a hidden camera behind the panels of dark glass. Was Qazim watching her? Was he examining her, assessing her?

  Grace felt the elevator move imperceptibly and smoothly. Her low-heeled shoes sank into plush, dark carpet. She held tightly onto her clutch and gazed around the inside of the elevator.

  Glacial was how she would describe the dark, clinical interior of smooth panels.

  Yes. That was the word, she told herself.

  Everything Qazim had a hand in designing was icy cool.

  There was a coldness, a clinical quality about the design of elevator's interior, she observed with a knowing eye. The same austere quality was to be found in every one of the many buildings he owned in the city.

  That seemed to be the way he liked everything in his life.

  Hard edges. Sharpness.

  A masculine harshness.

  Of course she had criticized him for the sparseness of his designs, even the coldness of them. That had been her job, after all. Why she had come to Qazhar in the first place.

  Qazim was about to expand his construction operation into overseas territories, and Grace and the company she worked for had been brought on board as an advisor. The company specialized in helping overseas property developers plan and design hotels in the States.

  Qazim had plans for expanding his empire. Big plans. And Grace and her associates were in Qazhar to help him make those plans real.

  But, right from the start, there had been conflict. What Qazim liked to build might not necessarily fit in with what America was used to when it came to hotel design.

  Qazim's tastes always seemed to tend toward the austere. Not for the first time, she wondered why that was. Why was he attracted to such a style?

  She'd sensed a growing harshness in him recently, one of the reasons things had cooled off between them. During recent meetings he'd become abrasive and demanding. Even more demanding with Grace when they were in bed together.

  She sighed and pushed the memories of those nights well and truly to the back of her mind. There was no use thinking about that, right now, she told herself.

  Grace leaned back against the mirrored wall, feeling the cool glass against her skin. She felt the steady movement of the elevator. She'd be there any moment now.

  He hadn't come down to greet her. She wasn't surprised at that. Qazim must still be confident that she belonged to him somehow. That she was his possession.

  Grace snorted quietly at that thought. She belonged to no-one, especially someone as brazen and dominating as Qazim. Because he was commanding, even autocratic at times, she told herself.

  Of course, there were plenty of women who would like that in a man. And she had to admit that, to begin with, she had submitted to the temptations of being with Qazim.

  Completely and utterly.

  There had been times in the last few weeks when Grace had been sure she'd lost her mind.

  That was how Qazim had affected her.

  Grace's mind drifted to memories of their love-making. Especially during recent weeks, when things between her and Qazim had become really intense. She felt her heart quicken, her pulse begin to race, even as she recalled the last few times she'd visited Qazim in the very place to which she was headed.

  Surely she must be crazy coming here, she admonished herself. It was risky and she knew that Qazim might well misinterpret her coming here like this. He might just believe it was like old times. That she couldn't resist him.

  Grace shook her head and smiled sardonically.

  Qazim was about to find out that she could quite easily resist him. And reject him.

  She knew there was probably no better way
to break the news to him than in his own domain, the place where he enjoyed so much power.

  The elevator began to slow. Grace stepped forward and composed herself, drawing in a deep breath.

  Then the doors slid open and Qazim was standing there. Right in front of her. In all his glory.

  Grace's throat tightened involuntarily and she forced herself to smile at Qazim. He smiled right back at her, a hint of hunger and cruelty at the corner of his mouth.

  God, he was gorgeous, she gasped inwardly to herself. She felt the color flush her cheeks. She dragged her gaze away from him. But it didn't last very long. WIthin a few moments, she was gazing at him, trying to maintain a blank expression on her face.

  Qazim Al Shirah lifted his chin and gazed at Grace, his dark brown eyes penetrating and steady. "Good evening, Grace," he said, his voice deep. She almost felt the sound of his voice vibrate in her chest as she stepped out of the elevator.

  Grace nodded. "Evening, Qazim," she breathed evenly. She heard the tension in her voice and wondered if he'd noticed.

  Qazim eased his tall frame toward her. For a moment, Grace felt unsteady on her feet, and this time it had nothing to with the thick carpet or her flat shoes. Butterflies fluttered in her belly.

  She cleared her throat and glanced around the large apartment, at the now familiar opulent furnishings. The mirrored expanses and sharp edges. The dark, shining surfaces. The sheer masculine power on display.

  So much had happened here. So much to be forgotten, she told herself as he came closer.

  Qazim was dressed in white, open-necked shirt and dark pants. Tempting chest hair curled teasingly below the open shirt collar. In the soft light of the apartment, his skin had a seductive, olive quality. She knew how that skin felt, the memory of the touch seared into her mind. She could almost taste his skin, so strong was the memory.

  He leaned in close, resting a hand softly against her hip. It was an easy gesture, almost casual. She didn't move away from him. Instead she lifted her chin and allowed him to kiss her cheek. His face rested against hers for a long moment. Although he looked clean-shaven, she still felt his dark roughness.

  She inhaled his scent, and felt her senses fill with its sharpness. She rested a hand against his shoulder, feeling the strength of his muscles, the tautness of his body.

  Qazim leaned his head away from her and gazed inquiringly at Grace. He seemed to have sensed her tension, perhaps the hesitation in her welcome. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Everything okay?" he asked.

  Grace nodded, too quickly, she realized. "Yeah, I'm fine," she muttered.

  His even features were set with a steady expression. Up close he was even more handsome, she couldn't help thinking. Strong jaw; high cheekbones; full, moist lips with a dangerous, alluring twist at their corner. She remembered what those lips had done to her, how they had taken her to heights of pleasure, awakened something vital in her.

  Grace forced her attention back to the moment. Qazim didn't seem completely convinced by her reply. His gaze lingered a few long moments. Searching.

  Then he guided her into the room, his hand at the base of her spine. She felt tingles all through her body as she walked alongside him.

  The room was huge. It stretched the entire length of one side of the building. The subdued, muted colors of the room's walls were reflected in the floor to ceiling windows which provided a breathtaking view out across the city. In the center of the room were a pair of long leather sofas, toward which Qazim was leading Grace. Away at the far end of the room Grace saw the dining table had already been set.

  She heard noises from the distant kitchen. The caterers would have been here for a while, preparing the meal. Everything was just as it had been on previous occasions. So well organized. She wouldn't have expected anything less from Qazim.

  Champagne glasses were already set out on the table next to the sofa. Grace sat down, straightening her dress as she did so. She couldn't help noticing Qazim's gaze settling hungrily on the sight of Grace's long legs.

  She crossed her ankles primly and faced him. "Champagne," she observed glancing at the flutes on the table.

  He reached across and handed her a glass. "I thought a celebration might be in order," he said lifting his own glass.

  "Celebration?"

  He nodded. "It's been two months since we met."

  Grace tilted her head and lifted a brow. "That long?" she replied with just a hint of sarcasm. "Feel's like an eternity," she added tilting her head at him.

  Qazim shrugged, ignoring her comeback. "Two months is a long time in a relationship," he announced grandly.

  Grace wasn't sure if he was being completely serious. "Perhaps sheikhs don't date for that long," she replied.

  He looked quizzically at her. "Are you implying something?"

  Grace shrugged. "Not at all. Just that I seem to remember you telling me that you had dated lots of women before me. Are you saying you never went out with anyone for more than a few weeks?"

  "I don't remember saying that," he said proudly. Maybe she'd offended him, she thought suddenly.

  Grace nodded. "That's right,I forgot," she said. "We had an agreement. We don't discuss our previous relationships. Wasn't that it?"

  Qazim tilted his head. "There's no point," he said. He leaned closer. "All that matters is us. Isn't that so," he said, lifting a brow.

  Qazim's gaze darkened. She knew that look. Recognized the sensation it triggered in her. Grace felt her heart quicken involuntarily.

  Treacherously. Why was it that he could affect her like this? Her body and mind seemed to exist in two different worlds. Her mind told her to do one thing, while her body wanted something else entirely. Was it simply that he knew how to capitalize on that weakness?

  She'd figured everything out. Hadn't she? She knew what she had to do.

  There was only one way this evening was going to end. And that was with her walking straight back into the elevator after breaking up with him.

  But he looked so tempting, she told herself. Perhaps it wouldn't do any harm to enjoy one last kiss. She could tell he'd planned out the evening. There would be the meal; the usual conversation, a mixture of flirting and spirited back-and-forth between them both. She enjoyed this sparring as much as he obviously did.

  Then he would make his move, assuming she would submit. Just as she had done so many times before. He would expect her to settle into his embrace, savoring his ravenous kiss, submitting completely.

  Not this time, Grace told herself.

  Tonight was going to be different.

  Qazim edged closer and placed his glass down onto the table. When she looked back into his eyes, she had already made her mind up.

  She quickly put her own glass down next to his. Then she stood, quickly, and stepped away from the sofa, moving toward the tinted windows.

  She halted, taking in the incredible view of the city. Grace wrapped her arms around herself, waiting for Qazim to react to her sudden move.

  She didn't have long to wait. She heard him move. Grace watched his reflection in the window and saw him move slowly, halting directly behind her. She could not make out the detail of his features. All she could see was the silhouette of his tall, powerful frame.

  Grace felt his hands settle on her shoulders. Sensation rippled through her as she resisted the temptation to lean back, settling against his body. She felt his breath on the side of her face.

  "What's wrong, Grace?" he asked in a quiet, steady voice.

  Grace swallowed and shook her head. "What makes you think anything is wrong?" she replied.

  Grace turned and looked at Qazim. His gaze was steady and searching. There was a suggestion of uncertainty in that look, she realized. She had genuinely caught him off-guard. "I know you too well," he said.

  "Really?" Grace replied. "You know me, do you?"

  His brows furrowed and his lips became a thin line. She heard him drawing a deep breath. He moved around to her side, one hand still resting on her shoulde
r.

  Any moment now that hand would probably trace a line across her neck searching for a way to make her feel good. He was an expert at that. "Of course I know you," Qazim said. "I thought we'd gotten to know each other pretty well these last few weeks. Wouldn't you agree?"

  Grace forced herself to shrug. Still, she didn't move away from him. She could sense the power of his body now that he was so close. His hand slide down her back, settling midway down. That simple move caused a tingle of delight to crackle through her nerves. She knew she had to get hold of herself.

  "I guess so," she said, trying to sound dismissive, even casual

  He peered at her, and she wondered if he had been convinced by her attempt at passing off the last few weeks of intense passion as if it hadn't really meant anything to her. She knew that wasn't true, but she had come here with a clear purpose in mind, and she was determined to see it through.

  "You guess so?" he probed, moving around to face her.

  Grace could feel the awesome power of his presence now that he was right in front of her. He towered over her, six feet plus of raw power and temptation. Grace knew she wasn't small, five seven wasn't that petite.

  But, right now, she felt dwarfed by him.

  Qazim settled his hands at her hips and gazed down into her eyes. Their gaze met in a mutual silent combat. He knew she would defy him. In fact, she guessed that was one of the parts of her character he liked. Her willingness to hold him at bay.

  But, right now, she could feel her barrier beginning to weaken. It was the way he looked at her, she told herself. That look had probably melted plenty of hearts before Grace had stepped into Qazim's life. She was sure of that.

  "You're holding something back," he declared.

  "I'm not," she replied curtly.

  Grace saw his nostrils flare slightly. His jaw tightened, and he glanced away for a moment. When he looked back at her, she saw he was struggling to maintain his composure.

  "Is there something you want to tell me, Grace?"

  Grace shook her head. She knew this was the moment she should seize. But for some reason, the words she'd rehearsed earlier just would not come. Her throat felt tight.