by Cara Albany
THE SHEIKH'S REUNION BRIDE
Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 4
BY
CARA ALBANY
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Cara
CHAPTER ONE
Sheikh Rafiq Al Kharif stepped out of his limousine and immediately cursed as his very expensive shoe sank into a deep puddle of cold rainwater. He gazed sourly up at the dark-clouded afternoon sky above his London hotel and shook his head. What was he doing here, anyway? Surely it hadn't been necessary to fly on his private jet all the way from Qazhar just for a supposedly urgent meeting.
But, that was what Brad, his friend and investment advisor, had said to him. Rafiq's presence was required in London. Brad wouldn't go into the details on the phone, merely hinting at the seriousness of the issue with a defiant grunt in response to Rafiq's exasperated objections.
Initially, Rafiq had been annoyed at having to make the journey, but then had reconsidered it, realizing just how welcome a break from Qazhar might prove to be.
Yes. Very welcome.
There was too much turmoil back home. So, it had been with a strong measure of relief that he had boarded the private plane in the burning heat of the Qazhar sun. Through the small window he'd watched the golden desert of his kingdom recede into the distance, feeling the familiar ache of separation he felt every time he left his home.
But, leaving Qazhar had been necessary.
He'd get used to the idea of not being married. After all, his bachelor existence was his preferred way of life.
Or so he kept on telling himself.
Wasn't he the sheik who was one the regions most eligible bachelors, desired and sought after by every woman he met?
Rafiq shook his head, feeling the cool drops of rain drip from his hair.
The recent wedding of the woman he had once believed would become his very own bride had made things distinctly awkward amongst the tightly knit circle of his friends. Not to mention his family.
The ever-present hard knot of hurt twisted in his gut at the remembrance of losing her. Being rejected by her.
Naima. Her name meant "calm". Images of their breakup flashed into Rafiq's mind. Naima had been anything but calm when they had broken up. And now she was married to someone else.
He still found it difficult to believe.
Rafiq took the umbrella from the elegantly dressed doorman who came striding purposefully toward him.
So, here he was, in a cold winter London pretending to himself that he really did want to be here. He frowned. It had better be worth it, he told himself, pulling the collar of his long black coat around his neck.
As he made his way toward the limo to collect Rafiq's luggage, the hotel valet nodded at the Sheikh. It had been a few months since Rafiq had last stayed at his favorite five star hotel a short walk from Buckingham Palace. He'd been a regular guest here for many years. The staff knew him well. They even appeared to like Rafiq, he reflected, as he strode up the marble steps and through the revolving glass doors into the welcoming warmth of the hotel's reception area. Soft music played in the background as Rafiq made his way to the reception desk. The small, dark-haired man behind the wooden counter smiled at Rafiq.
"Sheikh Al Kharif. What a pleasure to see you," he exclaimed.
Rafiq shrugged and shook the remaining drops of rain from his shoulders. "I see London winters haven't improved," he observed wryly.
"Nothing like Qazhar, I would expect," the man said.
"Hopefully this will be a brief visit," Rafiq suggested. "Is my room ready?"
The receptionist nodded and busied himself with paperwork. Rafiq signed the offered form and was handed the key to his usual suite.
"I hope the penthouse meets with your approval," the man said.
"I'm sure it will, thank you," Rafiq replied.
"There was a message left for you," the man said to Rafiq. He handed Rafiq a slip of paper. Rafiq unfolded it and read the message. Brad sent his apologies but he'd been taken ill and couldn't come to the hotel to meet with Rafiq. Instead, Brad was sending someone else to the hotel. The message ended with a cryptic comment to the effect that Rafiq would find Brad's replacement more than capable.
Rafiq frowned and considered calling Brad just to check that his friend was okay. He spoke to the receptionist. "Was there a number left that I could call?" he asked gesturing to the piece of paper.
The receptionist shook his head. "No, sir. But, there is someone waiting for you."
Rafiq arched a brow in surprise. "Really?"
The receptionist looked past Rafiq's shoulder toward the entrance to the restaurant. "I believe she is waiting for you in the restaurant."
Rafiq turned and looked toward the glass doors of the restaurant. "Did she leave a name?" he asked.
The receptionist shook his head.
Rafiq frowned. Perhaps whoever was waiting for him in the restaurant would be able to give him more information about Brad. Maybe it was one of Brad's employees.
"I'll have your bags taken up to your room," the receptionist said.
Rafiq nodded approval and made his way toward the restaurant. He opened the heavy glass door and peered into the elegant, cavernous room. Every table was empty except for one in the far corner at which sat a single, lone individual. A woman.
The woman had her back toward Rafiq. All he could see of her in the soft light of the restaurant was her long blonde hair which settled onto her well-attired, poised shoulders. He felt something stir within him, but frowned and pushed the sensation away. Maybe he was catching a chill with the ghastly English weather.
Rafiq made his way across the room. The sound of his footsteps caused the woman's shoulders to stiffen and he could tell that she sensed that there was someone else nearby. Her head turned slightly in his direction as she cocked an ear to listen for his approach. But, she didn't turn her face all the way to him. He saw her stiffen, as if his presence had forced her into a sudden readiness.
Rafiq was closer now, and he could see the slight angle of the woman's head, the smoothness of her skin, the poise of her chin. Once again something odd shifted within him, a shadow of something vaguely recognizable.
He was a few footsteps from her table. She turned her face and he saw the upturn of her delicate nose, the arch of her brow, the smooth skin, and it was then that he felt a fist clutch at his heart. His pulse began to race and he stopped in his tracks.
The woman turned her face fully toward Rafiq and smiled, pushing her chair away, beginning to stand.
Rafiq gasped, staring in disbelief at the beautiful features, now somehow changed, more mature, even more astonishingly attractive than when he had last seen them.
The woman pushed her chair back and stepped toward Rafiq. She tugged at the edge of her perfectly tailored jacket. She smiled at Rafiq and he was sure he felt his heart stop for a brief instant.
The young woman, whose name was Mia, extended a hand toward him. "Rafiq. How nice to see you after all this time," she said with a broad, sexy smile that made his pulse race.
Rafiq was sure his face had turned pale. She stared up at him. Could this really be Mia? Little Mia from all those years ago? Now she was no longer little, Rafiq told himself, as he resisted the urge to glance down at the way her full breasts strained the buttons of her dark blue jacket. He steadfastly denied himself the pleasure of running his gaze down the length of her legs, past the knee-length hem of her skirt, all the way to her petite feet and very high heels.
Rafiq squinted at her. "Mia? What are you doing here?" he as
ked, taking a step closer.
He saw her blue eyes widen as he approached her, and he paused suddenly.
Rafiq took her hand, feeling the softness of her skin, the sudden strength of her fingers around his own. He briefly considered embracing her, a polite hug seeming like the most appropriate greeting. It would be nice to hold her close to him, even for a moment of polite greeting. But, there was a sudden awkwardness between them.
She took one short step back and released his hand. "Brad sent me," she blurted out quickly raising a hand to the blonde hair resting on her shoulder.
Brad? Of course. Her brother.
Rafiq frowned. "How is he?"
Her brows furrowed. "He's resting. The flu has hit him real hard. I think he's going to be in bed for a while. Poor guy," she said with a resigned shake of her head. She grinned. "My brother is not a good patient. In fact, he's the world's worst when it comes to being sick." Her eyes were filled with good humor.
"The flu?" Rafiq asked.
Mia nodded and shrugged. "He came down with it last night. He didn't get a chance to let you know. So, he sent me instead."
Mia stretched her hands out by her side, an innocent charm lighting up her features. In spite of himself, Rafiq smiled. There was the same openness he remembered from long ago. It was a welcoming warmth that she shared with her brother. One of the reasons Rafiq trusted Brad. Rafiq had long ago learned to trust his gut instincts when it came to business.
Rafiq let out a sigh of relief. "I'm glad it's nothing serious."
Mia lifted a brow. "Well, he thinks it is." Mia shook her head. Rafiq recalled that she and Brad had always been competitive growing up as brother and sister. It looked like things hadn't changed.
"It's such a pleasure, and surprise to see you, Mia," Rafiq said enthusiastically.
He was sure he saw her react to his honest expression of delight. Her brows furrowed imperceptibly, but he was convinced there was nothing untoward in her reaction. Rafiq was sure she didn't hold grudges. Even if it might have been the most natural thing in the world for her to do so.
After all, he'd behaved abominably towards her all those years ago. Hadn't he?
"May I join you?" Rafiq asked quickly, eager to push back the thoughts that threatened to betray him.
Mia gestured toward the empty seat next to her own. "Be my guest," she replied.
As Rafiq sat down he watched Mia lower herself down onto her chair.
Mia was taller than he remembered, and her body was very much that of a woman. No longer was she the innocent little sprite he had once teased so mercilessly. Once again he had to hide his lingering shame at the memory of his cruelty to her. Because that was what it had been. A cruel enticement.
There was an elegance to Mia's movements, an assurance he had never seen in her before. She was so grown up now. So much a woman that Rafiq could hardly believe his eyes. Her delicate features had an even composure about them, but he could still see the remnants of her wide-eyed eagerness to seize everything life had to offer.
He saw that she had noticed he was watching her carefully. A sudden self-consciousness seemed to overwhelm her and he saw her cheeks redden slightly.
Rafiq peered at Mia. "It's so nice to see you. The last time we met..."
"Was when I was just about to start college," she interrupted sharply. Too sharply, he told himself. She remembered, he told himself. Rafiq felt a sudden awkwardness and asked himself how he could manage this situation. He wasn't used to reunions, in fact did his utmost to avoid them where possible. In the high society circles he moved in, he did encounter previous lovers from time to time. Always he found a way to shrug off the encounters with the minimum amount of distress. But, this was different. This was Mia.
He nodded. "That's right," he said. As if he could ever have forgotten those times. The truth was, the memories of that long ago summer were indelibly etched in his memory. Did she remember it the way he did?
"So, you graduated?"
"I did, indeed," she said with a proud, emphatic nod of her head.
"That's great. Brad did tell me you were going to continue with your studies. Perhaps move to the States for a while."
Mia shrugged. "Well, I was going to. But, Brad made me an offer I couldn't refuse."
Rafiq frowned at Mia. "Offer?"
"To join his business," she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Rafiq felt a jolt of recognition. Mia's presence here wasn't a friendly or social. It was business.
"You're working with Brad now?"
Mia nodded eagerly. "Just started a few weeks ago."
Rafiq was stunned. Brad hadn't mentioned that his little sister had joined his investment management company. Rafiq glanced across at Mia and restrained the urge to grin. Her bright blue eyes glowed with excitement.
The last time Rafiq had seen Mia she had been about to embark on a business degree. She'd always been whip-smart, possessed of an incisive mind as well as a body to die for. The perfect woman in so many ways, Rafiq had decided at the time. All the more reason to keep her at arms length. Play the game that Rafiq had been playing with every woman he'd encountered up to that point. The only problem with that had been that Mia was something different. Something special. Had that been why Rafiq had tormented her the way he had done?
Rafiq thrust his attention back to the moment. Now she was working for her brother, helping to invest the millions of dollars that flowed from Qazhar into the various investments around the world.
The waiter came up to the table. Rafiq asked for a coffee, while Mia ordered some green tea.
The waiter left and Rafiq quirked a brow. "Green tea?"
"Caffeine makes me jumpy," Mia explained.
Rafiq recalled just how jumpy Mia could be back in the day. She had been a real live-wire then. That had been one of the things that had drawn Rafiq to Mia during that fatal summer. That and the exquisite beauty which had seemed like something innocent and precious. Untouchable. She'd seemed like a delicate flower, one that Rafiq feared to touch, sensing that if he did, she would disintegrate in his hands, fragment into a thousand pieces. He'd held back, restrained himself, determined not to ruin things.
Now, he was amazed at the new woman who sat across from him. Mia had grown up. She was no longer the wild and rowdy, gorgeous eighteen year old he had once toyed with. That thought tugged at Rafiq, and he had to admit that he had done just that to Mia. He'd played her like one more of his potential lovers. Had she forgiven him?
Rafiq looked at Mia. "I'm surprised Brad didn't mention to me that you were working for him."
"Why would he tell you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes quizzically.
Rafiq shrugged. "I'd have thought having his younger sister on the payroll would have warranted a mention," he said.
Mia's brows furrowed and he knew she had touched a raw nerve. "The fact that I'm his sister makes no difference. I got the job on merit," she declared.
Rafiq suppressed a grin. There was still fire there, he told himself. He saw her mouth pout and her gaze locked on Rafiq, a hint of defiance glowing softly. Her quaint, very soft English accent gave her words a curiously appealing edge. Brad and Mia's mother was American. She had married an English investment advisor and the two children had been brought up mostly in England, although they had also spent a lot of time on the East coast of America.
"I'm sure you did get the job on merit. You always were a bright spark," Rafiq said, eager to avoid offense.
Mia quirked a brow. "Bright spark? Does that mean I was a nerd?"
Rafiq laughed. "You used to wipe the floor with all of us when it came to numbers."
Mia shrugged. "I know what I'm good at," she said in a tone that reminded Rafiq of just how feisty she could be. Perhaps some things hadn't changed, after all.
The waiter brought the green tea and coffee and left. Rafiq leaned on the table, stirring his coffee, and peering across at Mia. She lifted the cup of green tea and sipped it delicately, h
olding her little finger out to one side as she held the cup. How very English, he said to himself.
"Speaking of numbers," Rafiq said. "What did Brad want to see me about?"
Mia placed her cup carefully down on the saucer. Rafiq saw her compose herself so that she'd now adopted what she must assume to be a business-like manner. Mia gazed across the table at Rafiq. As his eyes met hers, he felt an inexplicable rush within himself. There was a directness in her gaze that masked something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He saw her eyes flicker, thoughtful and intelligent, and he knew she was trying to find the right words for what she was about to tell him.
"How much has Brad told you about the recent performance of the portfolio?" she asked sounding suddenly very formal.
Rafiq glanced down at the side of her chair and saw a briefcase resting against the chair leg. His gaze was tugged inexorably toward her legs, her perfectly proportioned calves, her high-heeled feet crossed primly one behind the other.
He heard Mia clear her throat and he dragged his gaze up to her face. The corner of her mouth quirked and he was sure there was more than a hint of impatience in the way she was regarding him.
"The portfolio?" Rafiq asked suddenly at a loss for words. Why was she affecting him like this?
Mia squinted at Rafiq. "You know. The multi-million dollar investment fund we're running on your behalf," she said acidly. She cocked her head to one side and gave him a disapproving look.
Rafiq took a quick sip of coffee and placed the cup down. "I get the detailed reports, as usual. Brad and I discuss it on a regular basis. I think I've got a handle on it," he said.
"Really?" Mia said. He could see she wasn't convinced.
"Brad's firm isn't the only one that handles our investments," Rafiq said. "Although he's the only one we use for derivatives funds."
Mia nodded. "We do manage those particular sets of funds. The UK is a friendly place for conducting that kind of business," she explained. There was a slightly patronizing tone in her voice now, and he felt himself bristle.
