ROMANCE: THE SHEIKH'S GAMES: A Sheikh Romance

by Knight, Kylie

  Thank goodness he moved quickly. She shut the door and leaned against it, a big, goofy smile on her face. She didn’t want to feel this way about any man right now, but it felt a little sweet at the same time.

  Daniel had entered his name in her phone with “ICE” next to it. ICE? She had to look it up on the Internet, and discovered that it meant “In Case of Emergency.” It was what some people did when they made entries in their contact list. ICE meant that those were the people to be called if something bad happened to the phone’s owner.

  She sat down and added ICE to her parents’ entry, and to the one for her aunt Elaine, who lived in San Francisco. Then she looked Daniel up and found that he had a Wikipedia entry. She’d never known anyone who had a Wikipedia entry.

  Daniel Gavin Mathieson Buchanan was thirty-four years old. He had a distinguished pedigree, being the son of Thomas Stewart Buchanan, a real estate tycoon descended from the Earls of Buchanan in Scotland, and Carolina Mathieson, the daughter of actress Philippa Paige and producer George Mathieson. He had one sister, Joan Mary Buchanan Roth.

  Daniel had been married at seventeen to an Irish girl he met at Cambridge, much to the dismay of both families, but the marriage, which was, by all accounts, very happy, ended tragically when Siobhan Buchanan died in a riding accident less than two years later.

  “Oh how sad,” Sophia murmured.

  Daniel threw himself into work, founding a medical research lab named Drake Scientific where they did research on brain injuries and how to prevent and treat them. Five years later, the company was bought by a huge biotech company, and Daniel rolled the money over into Buchanan BioTech. It was estimated that by age thirty, Daniel Buchanan had been worth a billion dollars in his own right.

  “Holy shit,” Sophia said. “Holy shit.”

  She read about his family life, including a terse version of his sister’s stalker incident, as the author of the page called it. It made her sick to read that after several years of harassment, Joan’s stalker tried to kill her in a knife attack at the family home in Martha’s Vineyard, but Daniel and his father stopped the man who was now behind bars.

  She wished she hadn’t read that part.

  Daniel’s hobbies were racing cars, classical music (he was an accomplished pianist!), martial arts, and sailing. He’d been the producer for his grandmother’s last film, Stars of the Southern Cross, a film about a woman who had been sent to a penal colony in Australia in the late eighteenth century, and who had lived to be nearly one hundred and had fought for aboriginal rights. Ms Paige had died only days after the film was greeted with critical praise at Cannes. Daniel was noted for being, not precisely reclusive, but very reserved, and disinclined to speak to the press unless he had something to promote.

  He was a romantic figure; Sophia could feel it about him. She had the sense that women, and probably some men, threw themselves at his feet regularly. Then she remembered what he’d said about how, when you’re rich or famous, you never know what people really want from you, and she realized that, kind as he had been to her, he probably only wanted to extend aid and support to a woman who had suffered the same sort of trauma as his sister.

  In short, he was being a nice guy. She shouldn’t read any more into it. And that, she thought, was a shame.

  Several weeks passed uneventfully. Phil seemed to have disappeared, for which Sophia was grateful. She knew though that at the end of the month he’d probably try to intrude on her life again. Her birthday was the twenty-seventh of May, and Phil had never forgotten about it when they were together. She had more than enough reason to believe that he would try to contact her under the guise of wishing her a happy birthday. But rather than sitting at home fretting about what form his intrusion would take — she had not forgotten Joan Buchanan’s stalker — she decided to be proactive. She phoned Daniel.

  “I feel very odd calling you, but the thing is that next Friday is my birthday, and I believe Phil is going to try to make contact. I don’t want to stay home alone, but if I go out somewhere I’m afraid he’ll follow me. I’m not sure what to do, and I thought maybe you’d have some suggestions?”

  “I do. Why don’t we go to dinner together? I’ll happily run interference for you. Please invite your parents too, and make it a party. He’ll be more intimidated by their presence since he probably still wants their approval.”

  It was a good idea, disappointing only in that a small part of Sophia had hoped to be alone with Daniel. But he was right. “I’ll do that. Where shall I have them meet us?”

  “I’ll come and pick you up, so have them come to your place.”

  “I really am sorry to impose.”

  “It’s not a problem, he promised. “I’m happy to do it.”

  She phoned her parents and told them the plan, omitting the part about Daniel being a billionaire. She didn’t want to deal with that reaction.

  But Daniel didn’t make it easy to be low profile. When he came to the door, and escorted them out to his car, it was a limo waiting for them. The restaurant he took them to was one of the most expensive and exclusive in the city, and he’d arranged for champagne and a special birthday cake for her as well as a big bouquet of pale pink roses.

  “This is too much,” she whispered to him as they sat down. “I didn’t expect—”

  “I know. I just thought you deserved a carefree birthday, and something special.”

  “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

  “You can always pay kindness forward,” he told her. “That keeps it going.”

  He was a good host, too, charming her parents, telling funny stories, asking them about the things that were important in their lives. He was a genuinely nice guy, and Sophia felt blessed that he had taken the time and effort to be nice to her.

  On the way out, though, after a perfectly lovely evening, things took a turn that was less lovely. As they exited the restaurant, Phil appeared, pretending to be passing by. “What a coincidence. Hello Vicky, Harold.”

  “Phil, how nice,” her mother said as Phil gave her a kiss on the cheek. “How have you been?”

  He shrugged. “Missing our girl,” he told her.

  “Let’s go, Mom.”

  “But Sophia…”

  “Seriously, Mom, the car is here. Let’s go.” She grabbed her mother’s arm and propelled her toward the limo.

  Phil just stared.

  In the car, Sophia’s mother said, “That was not very nice, Sophia. I thought we raised you better than that.”

  “Mom, he’s stalking me. How can you ask me to be nice to him?” she demanded.

  “Oh honey, if you’d just be more patient with him—”

  “No.”

  Everyone turned to Daniel. “No, he hasn’t earned patience, Mrs. Eklund. My sister had a stalker like that. People told her she should be nicer to him, more patient, that she should have tried harder to make the relationship work. In the end, he attacked and nearly killed her. She was in the hospital for a month with savage knife wounds.”

  “Oh my goodness, is she all right?”

  “She’s married and he’s in prison, but one day he’ll be out and she lives in fear of that day. Don’t ever fault Sophia for the way she’s treated that man. She doesn’t deserve to be terrorized by him.”

  Sophia’s parents exchanged looks, but said nothing more.

  They said good-bye at her door, and drove back to their suburb still thinking that Sophia had traded up.

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  “Let me see you to your door.”

  “You’re the genuine article, aren’t you?” she asked as they walked up the stairs.

  “What d’you mean?”

  “A gentleman.”

  He smiled. “Approximately. I know the forms.”

  “You’re good at them.”

  “Well thank you. My parents and my school will take that as a vote of confidence.”

  “What about you?”

  “There’s more to bein
g a true gentleman than the forms.”

  “I think you’re pretty good at that too,” she told him. “Your kindness has made me feel hopeful again.”

  “Truly?” he asked as they reached her door. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “One of the hardest things about this whole situation was dealing with what everyone else thought. They never saw Phil the controlling jerk, or the terrifying stalker, so they thought I was at least partly at fault. But you believed me. I think that made more of a difference even than you stepping between us on the dance floor.”

  “I’m glad,” he said again. “It’s gratifying.”

  “I wanted you to know that I’ve made an appointment with Dr. Forster.”

  He looked genuinely relieved. “I’m so glad, Sophia. I think it will do you the world of good. She’s so good at helping with coping mechanisms.”

  Sophia nodded. “Why don’t you come in and have a nightcap?”

  “I should let you get some rest.”

  She looked up at him, put her hand on his shoulder, and stood on tiptoe to kiss him softly. “I’d like it if you came in,” she whispered.

  Where she’d gotten the nerve from, Sophia didn’t know, but she wanted him. More than that, even, she wanted to feel free and in charge of her own life again.

  “I want to make my own choices,” she told him and he looked into her eyes and nodded as if he understood.

  She led him into her bedroom and undressed him, taking her time, unwrapping him as if he was the best birthday gift ever.

  She gasped when she saw the scar, an ugly, jagged slash that ran from just above his left nipple to his shoulder. “What is that?”

  “My disagreement with Joanie’s stalker.”

  She realized then that his sister hadn’t been the only one injured in that incident. Sophia kissed the scar gently, and felt his hand caress her hair. “Lie down,” she told him, and he did as she asked, stretching out on the bed, arms behind his head, watching her undress herself.

  When she stepped out of her party dress he said, “You’re beautiful, Sophia.”

  Was she? It was so hard to tell now, since Phil had made her feel that she was unattractive to other men. Daniel must have seen that in her eyes because he reached out to her and pulled her into his arms.

  “I have been all around the world and met thousands of women, many of them among the most beautiful in the world. I can tell you honestly that you are beautiful by any objective standard, and by my own wholly subjective one. Please don’t ever doubt it. That would break my heart.”

  Their lips met. Sophia rested her hands on Daniel’s shoulders and felt the ridge of his scar under her palm. His hands cradled her hips, holding her gently but firmly, his fingers slipping under her panties, to slide them downward.

  He pivoted and Sophia fell onto the bed. Daniel pushed her legs apart and licked his lips before he went down on his knees between them.

  Nothing had ever prepared her for this moment of utter, mindless pleasure. Nothing. Daniel’s fingers, his tongue, lips, teeth drew her into a kind of sensory overload, and she found herself dizzy with it, with the aching throb of joy deep inside her, the sheer physical pleasure he roused in her.

  No one had ever made her feel more alive, more like a woman and a desirable one, than Daniel did that night.

  She woke, cradled in his arms in the early hours when the sun was still pale and milky in the sky. Daniel was still asleep, and she took the opportunity to watch him for a while, to memorize the curves, and planes, and angles of his face.

  He had the face of an angel, something you’d see in a portrait by an old master. At rest, his face softened slightly, and he looked more boyish. She liked seeing sleep smooth out some of the worry lines. She wished she could do that for him.

  His impossibly long eyelashes fluttered. He opened his eyes and yawned hugely. “What time is it?”

  “Around six-thirty.”

  “Tell me I sent my driver home before we fell asleep.”

  “You did.”

  “That’s a relief. I was worried that the meter was still running.”

  “Do you want some coffee, or—”

  He tightened his embrace. “Let’s just doze for a while. I don’t often have the pleasure of sleeping with someone. Feels good to wake up to someone warm and friendly.”

  His words surprised her. She’d assumed that he had an active and varied sex life.

  “You’ll have to tell me about the tattoos.”

  He looked down at himself and smiled almost reminiscently. “They all mean something.”

  “I hoped they would.”

  “You did? Why?”

  “I didn’t want them to be whims. I wanted them to be on your body because they were things you wanted to say about your life.”

  He looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. “You get it,” he said. “Not many people do.”

  “The dragon?”

  He sighed and moved away from her on the bed. Sophia was afraid that she’d asked the wrong question and was momentarily frozen with the fear of upsetting him. He must have seen it because he said, “It was a long time ago, but it’s still hard to talk about. I was married once. She died and I was almost insane with grief. My great-grandmother Buchanan took me up to her home in the highlands and told me that grief would transform me into who I would be for the rest of my life. She said it would make or break me.” His gaze seemed to fix on something far away in both time and space.

  “Her family crest is a dragon, and it was common to see dragons in many forms all over her house, almost like talismans. I remember thinking that if I could let my grief turn me into a dragon, fierce and dangerous, I was all for it. So I concentrated on my internal dragon.” He rubbed his face with both hands and laughed. “I was so young. But it helped. I stopped grieving and started being angry, which was a good first step. And then my grandmother taught me about the wisdom of dragons. I got the tatt to remind me that life is complicated, but strength and intelligence can help you through anything.”

  “That’s a sad and amazing story,” Sophia told him. “I never thought much about dragons before. Is that why your first company was Drake Scientific?”

  He gave her a look of surprise. “You’ve been studying me,” he accused.

  “Guilty. I felt the need to know more about you.”

  “That’s wise, though being a public figure doesn’t make me safe. If anything, it gives me more scope for crazy behavior.”

  “Don’t scare me.”

  He hugged her close. “I don’t mean to. This is a nice room,” he said, looking around. I like the way it feels.”

  “What’s your home like?” she asked, imagining something opulent and way out of her league.

  “Oh, it’s just a condo. Living room, bedroom, bath, efficiency kitchen with a breakfast bar. I bought it because I didn’t feel like renting, but I haven’t done anything with it.

  “Does it have a wonderful view?” she asked, imagining a panoramic view of the lakefront.

  “No, it overlooks the railroad tracks. Really, it’s nothing special. It’s still the standard builders’ white with brown wall-to-wall carpeting.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  He shrugged. Nothing feels like home, really. Not enough to make the effort.” He must have noticed her expression of non-comprehension because he said, “I grew up in boarding school, then went to Cambridge, so home was an abstract to me. The only place that ever really felt like home was the little apartment Siobhan and I shared. It was only a couple of rooms, but she made it beautiful. Nothing else has ever felt right to me.”

  Sophia propped herself up on one elbow and stared down at him. “You know what? We’re going to decorate.”

  “Nah.”

  “Yes. We’re going to make your condo feel like home to you because you deserve that much. Look, you’ve been so good to me, let me repay you by pulling something together for you. I’d enjoy it, and once we’re fi
nished, so will you.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m positive.” It felt like the least she could do for him.

  That afternoon they went over to look at his condo, and Sophia had to admit that it was tragically dull. “First thing, we pick out colors,” she told him. She dug her fan deck out of her purse and put it on the breakfast bar. “This is one of my most prized possessions. Pick out colors you like.”

  “I don’t know,” he said as he made a pot of coffee.”

  “All right then, we’ll start with blues. Everyone likes blue.”

  But it was like pulling teeth until she got him to commit to one beautiful shade of teal, a rich, dark blue-green that made him smile. “I can work with this,” she told him.

  They went out and picked up a few gallons of paint, and by dinner time, the living room was a beautiful semi-gloss peacock color.

  “I don’t know about this,” he said, looking around.

  “That’s because we’ve only just started. Tomorrow we buy drapes, lamps, a rug, and some chairs. Your sofa is fine.” It was a dark chocolate leather. Sophia wondered why men liked leather furniture so much, but at least it was a good color.

  Once she’d begun to add in the other colors — orange-red, gold, dark brown — Daniel began to get the feel of the process, and started to pick out things he liked. He found a beautiful stained glass table lamp in shades of blue green and amber, and picked out a red-lacquered chest that worked as an end table.