The Sheikh's Convenient Mistress: What he needed from her went well beyond the call of duty... (The Henderson Sister Series Book 2)

by Clare Connelly

  That felt like a lifetime ago now, but only a month had passed. A month of knowing Olivia. Two weeks of which he’d spent devouring her in every way.

  He had never known someone to affect him in such a way. He woke her in the middle of the night, bursting with things he needed to discuss. And instead of complaining, she would roll over and speak to him and share her thoughts. She was generous with her body and mind; she was his complement in every way.

  The initial belief he’d had, that he might get her out of his system, had faded fast. He would leave her, eventually, but it would not be easy.

  It would hurt, and he would do it only because it was in the best interests of Dashan.

  She laced her fingers through his. “You know, you’re really not making the most of being in Vegas.”

  His smile was slow. “Aren’t I?” He squeezed her hands. “I feel like I am doing the one thing I want to be doing most in the world.”

  Olivia’s heart turned over in her chest. “But this city has so much to offer. So much of interest.”

  He expelled a breath. “To me, it will always be associated with two extremes of memory. The worst, and the best.”

  She understood without any further explanation. “How is Ra’if?”

  He shrugged. “It’s slow progress. He’s so angry.”

  “With you?”

  “With me, yes. With the world. With our father particularly.”

  “Why?”

  “He sees the throne as his birth right. Though he loves me, he resents me for my place in the line of succession. And my father for making it so.”

  Olivia tilted her head to the side in a gesture that was particularly ‘Olivia’. “I don’t mean to be unsupportive, but is it really something to want so badly?”

  His expression was blank. “Meaning?”

  “Only that it seems like your life must be very … different to most. Look at this. You’re here undertaking something intensely personal, and yet you cannot do it without a veritable army of guards.”

  His frown was contemplative. “That’s true, and yet of the two of us, I have fared far better in our fates.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Of course.”

  “How so?” She prompted, fascinated by his perspective on the confines of his life.

  “I grew up without the expectations of greatness that dogged Ra’if’s every step. He was expected to be better, faster, smarter and wiser than his contemporaries. His failures were seen, not as small steps backwards that could be corrected, but as egregious faults that might result in the demise of our nation’s prosperity.”

  “Surely you’re exaggerating.”

  “No. He was raised to feel that he was never good enough. He had all the pressure on him as a youth, and now, he has none of the power. I, on the other hand, was relatively free to scamper about the palace. I, you see, was only the spare. The child no one expected to take the throne. I was royal but I was also free. And now, I am a grown man and I find I have everything Ra’if worked so hard for.”

  “Poor Ra’if,” she murmured sympathetically. “That must have been a miserable childhood.”

  Zamir nodded gravely. “For us, the royal bloodline isn’t simply a matter of birth. Our blood is truly believed to imbue us with almost super-human abilities.”

  “You’re being serious?”

  “Absolutely. In the same way the Romans deified their leaders, my people look at my father almost as God-like.”

  “Then I was right. It’s a pretty sucky way to live, being you full time.”

  His gruff laugh was rich with amusement. “Well, perhaps in some ways. But the potential to make a difference is enormous.” His eyes were thoughtful. “My brother though will never live up to his potential.”

  “That isn’t your fault.”

  “No. But it is my burden.”

  She was quiet as his words sunk in. “You’ll wear that burden for the rest of your life. You might have enjoyed freedom as a child, but you never will again.”

  “No,” he agreed softly.

  “You aren’t free to come and go as you please. And you aren’t really free to make your own life decisions.”

  “Such as?” He prompted quietly.

  “Such as where you’ll live. And who you’ll marry,” she said pulling her fingers away from his. “That kind of thing.”

  He didn’t say anything. What could he? She was right. His bride would be a carefully selected contender; a woman of perfect breeding and political advantage.

  “So what do you do when you go see him?” She asked, changing the subject clunkily back to Ra’if.

  “I talk with him. I encourage him. I urge him not to lose hope.” He ran a hand through her hair. It was soft like the petals of the Lazina flowers that covered the desert in winter. “We also play Monopoly.”

  “Monopoly?” She burst out laughing.

  “What is funny about that?”

  “It’s just not what I expected,” she said, trying to quiet her amusement from her voice.

  “Hasbro gave us a special edition board one Christmas. It has all of the landmarks of our capital city, and the pieces are busts of the royal family, including the pet we adored as children.”

  “You celebrate Christmas?”

  He nodded. “Yes. The country is of diverse faith. We mark many events; Christmas is one of them.”

  “I had no idea.” She smiled up at him and her whole face sparkled. “That’s quite lovely.” Her eyes met his, and a charge of emotion fired between them. “Who’s better?”

  “Ra’if, usually. At the moment, me.”

  “You don’t let him win?”

  “That would kill him. He already feels like a failure. If I gave him pity Monopoly victories, he would certainly wither away.” He grinned though. “I’ve been waiting all my life to beat him. He keeps pointing out that it took something as severe as his withdrawal from heroin addiction to make it possible.”

  She laughed, but his words were sobering. “Is that what it was? Heroin?”

  “Heroin. Cocaine. Ecstasy. Anything he could get his hands on, and in massive quantities.”

  “Since when?”

  “It is hard to be certain. I think in the beginning, the drugs enabled him to cope.”

  “Really?”

  “He was under a lot of pressure. They gave him a way to blow off steam.”

  “Yes, I guess …”

  “But not for long. They took over. As they do. He couldn’t cope without them. And bit by bit, I lost my brother.”

  “He’s still there.”

  Zamir made a sound of disagreement. “You cannot imagine what it’s like, to see someone you love go through it. He is my brother, but he isn’t. He is himself, yet he’s not. My brother, as I knew him, is nowhere. Instead, I have this version. Bitter, dark, angry, and I don’t know how long he’ll work at recovery. Even when he is out, I feel like he might slip at any point.”

  “It’s going to be a lifetime of management. There’s no cure for what he’s got.”

  Zamir didn’t answer immediately. “You sound as though you speak from experience?”

  “Oh, not really. Not in the same way.” Her eyes shifted to the wall beyond him. “My sister Ava went through a rough time a while ago.”

  It was fascinating for many reasons. Olivia didn’t often speak of her sisters. “In what way?” He prompted, hoping she’d continue. He didn’t want big chunks of her life to be secret from him.

  “She hooked up with this guy a few years ago. A total jerk, in the end.”

  If Ava looked anything like Olivia, he could well imagine that she would have been just as much a target for sleazy men.

  “It was complicated. She was engaged to someone else, but Cristiano came into town and swept her off her feet. He promised her the world, and then disappeared.”

  “That must have been difficult.”

  “Yes, if that were all she had to deal with, it would have merely been d
ifficult. But on top of that, Aves found out she was pregnant.” Thoughts fired randomly in his brain, and Zamir was not at all proud of the thread of consciousness that revelled in the very hope that Olivia might be in a similar state.

  “And?” He pushed, when she didn’t speak.

  “And,” Olivia sighed. “He never spoke to her again.”

  Zamir’s feelings were easier to comprehend now. Fury slashed through him. “You mean he didn’t acknowledge the child? Or help?”

  “No. He never knew. She tried to tell him. We even flew over there. But he refused to see her.”

  “Lissanil Su,” he swore under his breath, and though Olivia had no idea what he’d said, she gathered from the inflection that it was a serious insult.

  “She went into labour two months early. Milly was the most tiny little thing we’d ever seen. More like a kitten than a baby.” Her eyes had a faraway look in them. “There were complications.” Olivia couldn’t be certain she wasn’t sharing far too much with this man, but she couldn’t stop. Having opened the vault, it felt good to speak about the time that had been desperately traumatic for all of the sisters, not just Ava. “Aves would have died if she hadn’t had a hysterectomy.”

  “Which means … no more children.”

  “No more children. No more babies.”

  He furrowed his brow. “And this man, this Cristiano. Where is he now?”

  Olivia laughed. “That’s a little more complicated. Shoot. I really need to email my sisters.” She squeezed his fingers. “I’ve been a little distracted lately, I guess.”

  “That goes for both of us.”

  She smiled softly at him and her heart turned over with love. “He’s not involved, if that’s what you’re asking. And he still doesn’t know about Milly.” So far as she knew, at least. But was Ava really capable of keeping it from him?

  “Bastard.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, After all the trouble she had, Ava ended up being hit pretty badly with post-natal depression. When you talk about seeing someone you love spiral out of your hands, I do understand. Soph and I were co-parents for months while Ava got to grips with her mental health. It was heartbreaking for everyone. She was so alone. So scared. And now, she’s amazing.”

  “Really?” He felt genuine relief. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

  “Oh, Aves is the strongest of all of us. She’s so like our mum. Smart and kind, determined and resolute. She will never let anyone or anything stand in her way. She’s a great mum. I’m so proud of her.”

  He pushed his hands onto her hips. “I’m quite jealous. You sound so close to them.”

  “I am.” She pressed a kiss against his cheek. “I wish you could meet them. You’d love them.”

  It was a thought that brought seriousness to their moods. He would never meet Olivia’s sisters. This relationship of theirs, for all it felt like a perfectly formed circumstance, was temporary.

  Though Zamir was finding that more and more difficult to keep in mind with every day that passed.

  * * *

  9 November, 10.21pm

  From: Olivia

  To: Ava, Sophie

  I know.

  I’ve been slack.

  I’m sorry!

  I can’t believe we’re in November already. Where has this year gone? I feel like I just left home. Soph, I swear, it was just yesterday we were drinking that insanely expensive bottle of champagne in Corfu. (How good was that?)

  So Vegas is amazing. Every bit as bright and shiny as you’d imagine. The strip is never quiet. No matter what time of day or night, it’s thumping. Tourists, strippers, pimps, junkies, cops, it’s a veritable smorgasbord of activity at any moment.

  Work’s good. You know I can’t really say much about that stuff, but I’ve been minding a pretty well-known VIP for a while now. He’s come to town on personal business, and he’s different to my usual clients. He doesn’t want much, except to escape attention. Then again, he’s not the kind of VIP that the media goes wild for, so my job’s pretty easy there. He’s really… She stared at the screen, the cursor blinking accusingly at her. Nice. Sometimes I forget that he’s rich and powerful yada yada yada because he seems so normal.

  She was being too obvious! She thought about deleting the sentence, but didn’t.

  Anyway. Enough about me. What’s news with you?

  She waited for several minutes, but neither of them replied, so she shut her laptop and crept back into bed. Zamir was asleep. His eyes were shut, his breathing even, and everything about him was perfect. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. And safe in the knowledge that he was fast asleep, she whispered, “I love you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The phone call came six nights later.

  Late in the night, when only the false electronics of the road beneath illuminated the room. There were no stars in Vegas. No heaven to speak of. Just a sky that always glowed with a sort of phosphorescence.

  “I apologise, sir, for the intrusion.” It was Marook.

  Zamir threw a look over his shoulder. His heart twisted. Olivia was like a fairy in his bed. All flowing hair and golden skin. He smiled and moved out of the room, clicking the door softly shut behind him.

  “What is it?”

  There was a tremor of silence, and Zamir gripped the phone tighter. “Spit it out.”

  “It’s your father.”

  “Father?” Zamir planted his free hand onto his hip and stared out, unseeing, of the enormous windows.

  “I’m sorry, Zami. I have just heard. It’s his heart. He has had an episode this afternoon, Dashan time.”

  “An episode.” Zamir repeated the words, as disbelief thumped through him.

  “Yes.”

  “Is he …”

  “He’s alive.”

  “Thank God.” He closed his eyes.

  “But he is not safe yet. Tests are still being run. It is not known how his recovery will progress. The palace has urged you to return immediately.”

  “Of course.” He turned back towards the bedroom. Though the door was shut, he thought of Olivia. “Have the plane fuelled. We shall leave within minutes.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll ready everything.”

  Zamir disconnected the phone. Of course he had to leave. His father would not rest easy until he knew Zamir was on hand. And his people would need stability and reassurance.

  He swore harshly and tore through the room.

  A man like Zamir didn’t need to consider such banalities as packing. He had attendants for that. But no one could explain this to Olivia, but him.

  He pushed the door open and crossed to her side of the bed. Even in her sleep, she smiled. Even in her sleep, he could feel her positivity and warmth. He put a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her.

  She moaned a little and threw an arm over her head. The sheet dropped down, revealing her perfect, round breast. He felt himself harden and was ashamed of the involuntary response to her. Even more so when he found himself wondering if there was time to be with her. It would be their last time together, and he knew that he would be tormented by that forever.

  And yet, his father lay in a hospital bed on the other side of the world. How could he do anything but leave, as swiftly as possible?

  “Liv,” he murmured, shaking her again. “You must wake up.”

  Her words were thick with sleep. “What is it?”

  He stroked her cheek. An ache was forming in the pit of his stomach. “I need to leave.”

  She blinked her big, green eyes open. “Leave?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes met his and he frowned. He could see every single bit of her in detail. If he closed his eyes, she was still there.

  “Leave where?”

  “I have to go home.”

  “Home? You are home.” Her voice was groggy.

  He laughed, but it was a sound of frustration. “Back to Dashan.”

  She sat up, almost bumping her head against his. “What? When?”

  “Right
now.”

  “But why?” She put a hand on his chest. “Are you joking?”

  “No.” He put a hand over hers, and pulled it from him. If she touched him for a moment longer, he worried he’d lose his resolve. “My father has had a heart attack.”

  She clasped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Zamir. I’m sorry. Is he okay?”

  “I won’t know until I get there.”

  She pushed the sheet back and stood. “I understand. Just give me a minute. I just need to throw some things in a bag.”

  His heart had first been broken when his mother died. Then, when Ra’if had been found unconscious after a drug overdose, it had broken a little more. Now, at the look of kind acceptance on her face, it broke further. Almost finally.

  “No, Olivia. Not you. Just me.”

  She scanned his face, confusion obvious. She was silent, as his words, and their various implications, compounded in his mind. “I want to be there for you.”

  He shook his head. He had to be strong. “It is not possible.”

  “You’re being silly. Of course it’s possible. It will be just like it’s been here. Zamir, I’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

  “I will not be alone,” he said seriously. “I’ll have a palace full of aids, remember?’

  Olivia felt as though he’d stabbed her. It was like a knife was plunging into her gut. “That’s not the same.”

  “No,” he agreed. “But you cannot come.”

  “Why not?” She didn’t want to argue with him, but nor could she simply let him walk away.

  “Because,” he hissed with frustration. “The kind of relationship we have would not be accepted within the palace. You would be treated like a whore. My servants here barely tolerate you. My father would feel betrayed by what he would view as my disrespect. You would barely see me. The demands on my time there are enormous. You would spend your days rejected and alone, and you would be miserable. Even if I wished you to come, I could not allow it. You would suffer for your kindness.”

  “But you do want me to come.”

  He shook his head. It was irrelevant. “We both knew it would come to this.”

  “But … I don’t understand. You’re coming back to Las Vegas?”