by Cara Albany
Rafiq reached out hand and placed it heavily on Malik's shoulder. "What can I say to you?"
Malik narrowed his eyes. "Don't say anything."
Rafiq shook his head. "You know I can't do that. I'm your brother. I have a duty to make sure that you do what's best for you and for our family."
Malik sighed. "I know you are only thinking of the best for me," he said. "And father is probably right. But there was one thing he said which I find it difficult to accept."
Rafiq's eyes narrowed. "What was that?"
Malik turned away from Rafiq. He didn't know how to bring up the subject, but he knew he had to. Rafiq needed to know the whole picture. Malik turned and looked at Rafiq. "Father said something unforgivable."
Rafiq expression became grave. Malik continued. "He called into question something very important to me. Something important to all of us brothers."
Malik leaned back against stone rim of the fountain. He folded his arms. "Father did something he's never done before. He questioned whether I am fit to be a sheikh."
Rafiq's eyes widened. Malik saw the shock on his brother's face. "What are you talking about? Father would never do such a thing."
Malik shrugged. "Well, this time, he did."
Rafiq shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe he would do such a thing. You're his son. One of the most precious things in his life. Why would he question you in such a way?"
"You know he does not approve of my choices in life." Malik felt the cold stone against his back. The sharp sensation ran up his spine, chilling him to the core.
"So, he wants you to marry so that you can take on your role as a sheikh?" Rafiq asked.
Malik nodded. "It's pretty much that simple. Otherwise, he doesn't consider me a real man."
Rafiq gasped. "Why, that's just ridiculous."
Rafiq came to Malik and laid a hand on the shoulder. "You are more of a man than most I have known," Rafiq said.
Malik looked into his brother's eyes and saw pride there. "Thank you, brother," Malik said quietly.
For a moment, both brothers looked at each other, an understanding between them that stretched back through the years. Malik knew that he could always rely on Rafiq. The connections within the family were binding and unbreakable. Somewhere deep inside Malik knew that his father only meant well, merely wished to persuade his precious second son to make the best possible choice at this important stage in his life.
Rafiq sighed slowly. "So, you're looking for a wife now?"
Malik shrugged. "I guess I am."
"Do you have anyone in mind? Or have I already met the person you might be interested in," Rafiq said, a grin creasing the corner of his mouth.
Malik smiled. "What do you mean?"
Rafiq grinned. "I might have heard something," he said slowly.
Malik looked questioningly at Rafiq. "I haven't made my mind up yet. I've barely had time to think about it."
"Of course, you haven't," Rafiq said looking completely unconvinced. "Mia was telling me all about Lana. It seems you and her were quite friendly out on the terrace earlier this evening."
Malik felt his face colour. "How do you know about that?"
Rafiq raised a brow. "Mia doesn't miss very much."
Malik took a few steps away from Rafiq, anxious to put some distance between them both. He needed time to think. Had it been that obvious? Malik figured his attraction to Lana hadn't really been noticed by anyone else. He wondered just how many people knew about it already. He turned to Rafiq. "Lana and I are going to be together over the next few days before the wedding. Anyway, there's nothing really between us."
Rafiq grinned. "So everything is fine then," he said enthusiastically.
Malik groaned. His brother wasn't about to give up. "Lana isn't too pleased with me at the moment. Apart from which we hardly even know each other."
Rafiq shrugged. "That's never been a problem for you before, has it? You have plenty of time to get to know her."
Malik looks surprised. "What? A few days?"
Rafiq nodded. "It doesn't take long to fall in love."
Malik felt his face go pale. "Who's talking about love?"
"Only joking," Rafiq said teasingly. "At least you have a chance to spend time with Lana over the next few days. Mia and I are going to be real busy getting this whole thing organized. Apart from which, this will prove one thing to Father."
Malik squinted at Rafiq. Rafiq continued. "That you're every bit the sheikh and every bit the real man that our father hopes you will be."
Malik heard the passion in Rafiq's voice. Maybe his brother was right. Perhaps it was time for Malik to grow up, to move on. Images of Lana floated into his mind, and he felt the same sensations that had overcome him when she had been in his arms only hours before.
The problem was that Lana seemed determined to keep Malik at a distance, a very safe distance. It would be up to Malik to win her over because there was one thing he knew above all else. He would take great pleasure in proving to Lana just what it meant to be claimed and possessed by a man who was determined to become what he had always been destined to become.
A sheikh.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"I'm amazed a place like this exists in Qazhar," Lana said gazing around the dark interior of the club. Malik had brought her to this place in his limo with all the pomp and circumstance he could muster. He'd made a huge fuss of the fact that he owned this exclusive club in the heart of Qazhar City. Apparently, it was the place to be seen for the elite of Qazhar society. At least one part of that elite; the modern part that had seized upon the great changes in Qazhar culture in recent years.
All around Lana were the trappings of wealth. Richly upholstered sofas and chairs; a well-appointed bar that stretched the length of the long room; a stage upon which there were some abandoned musical instruments. Soft lighting and soft furnishings. The place exuded luxury and a very Western style of comfort. All that was missing were the roulette tables, but Malik had already explained that gambling wasn't allowed in Qazhar.
He owned this place, Lana said to herself for what seemed like the tenth time since she'd been escorted through the dark glass revolving doors, through the marble-floored entrance, down the stairs and into the depths of the building. She had seen the wealth on display at Rafiq's palace, but what she had seen in this exclusive place was evidence of Malik's own, personal affluence.
It seemed that all of the Al Kharif brothers had their own personal fortunes. That didn't surprise her at all. They were one of the most important families in the kingdom. It was natural that they would possess such wealth. But, as before, during her time in America, Lana had long since ceased to be impressed by wealth. She'd seen what it could do to people; experienced the harshness that wealth brought out in people. Especially young men.
Lana thrust that memory away. Perhaps Malik was different. This was an entirely different kind of world she had entered. She knew that.
Across from her, Malik leaned on the table and gazed at Lana. There were a few other guests in the room, although it was late afternoon, too early for the more serious members to have arrived.
"What do you think?" Malik asked.
Lana gazed around and shrugged. "It's okay."
Malik seemed surprised. "Okay? Just okay?"
Lana nodded. "I've seen places like this before."
Malik seemed momentarily thunderstruck. He sipped his glass of orange juice, placed the glass down on the table and peered across at Lana. "You are just joking with me, right?"
Lana shook her head. "Why would I?"
Malik cleared his throat. "Do you know how much I spent on this place?"
Lana gazed nonchalantly around the room. "I'm sure it didn't come cheap."
"Cheap!" Malik exclaimed. "There's nothing cheap about this place. It's the most exclusive club in Qazhar. Membership here is highly coveted."
"I'm sure it is," Lana said trying to control the urge to dismiss his comment. She could see he was pro
ud of what he owned, what he had created. But, it seemed so out of place with what she had seen during her short time in Qazhar. Tradition seemed to lie at the heart of Qazhar life, and this club seemed to belong in a different place.
"What do your brothers think of this place?" Lana asked.
Malik seemed taken aback by the question. He squinted at Lana as if he couldn't quite believe that she would ask such a thing. "They've both been here."
Lana leaned forward and peered at Malik. "But, do they like it?"
Malik eased back in his chair and thrust an arm behind the back of the seat. Why was he feeling so defensive about such a simple question, Lana asked herself. Had she touched a raw nerve?
"Of course, they like it. Why wouldn't they?"
Lana narrowed her eyes. "It's just so different from how the rest of your family live, I guess."
Malik raised his chin and nodded. "Not traditional enough. Is that what you're suggesting?"
"Maybe," Lana said flatly.
"Times have changed in Qazhar."
"But, I get the impression not everyone feels the need for change."
"Traditions have their place," Malik said defensively. Was he trying to back out of the conversation?
"But, they're not something you'd find in a place like this," Lana said.
"We live in different times," Malik replied.
"I'm sure you've had some good times in this place," Lana said, immediately regretting the inadvertent edge to her comment. She glanced across the table and saw that he had been affected by the tone of the comment. Was he hurt? Was he offended?
Malik leaned forward. "I don't know what you're suggesting, Lana," Malik said.
"I'm not suggesting anything, Malik," she replied.
Malik dipped his head closer toward her. She could see the indignation in his gaze. There was a barely contained fire in those eyes. She could see a flame of powerful intent there, and she felt a vague flutter of unease in her middle. Why was it that he was able to affect her like this?
Those eyes held so much promise. Lana wrenched her gaze away from Malik. She cleared her throat, trying to find the words to mask what she had really been implying. That this was Malik's private domain; that it was the place he brought his women to; the center of his world, away from the traditions of palace life, away from the constraints of family expectation. She tried not to think too much of what Malik might have done in this place; of the many women who might have been grateful for the chance to be brought into his world, possessed and seduced.
Lana frowned and glanced at Malik. She saw that he had noticed the change in her demeanor. "What you think of my life is unimportant," he stated firmly. She knew she had stepped over a line, had invaded a private space.
"You know nothing of how I have lived," he continued.
"We barely know one another," Lana admitted.
Malik's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't go so far as to say we don't know each other. We've had our moments."
He reached out a hand across the table, but Lana moved her own hand closer to herself, curling her fingers around her glass of sparkling water. Malik's gaze flickered down to the table, taking note of her defiant gesture.
"Perhaps, you've had your moments, Malik," Lana said. She glanced around the room. "I'm sure you've had more than your fair share here."
Lana saw Malik frown. He sighed and withdrew his hand. "You seem to have already formed an opinion of me."
"I judge no-one," Lana said, even although she knew that wasn't quite true. She'd already assessed Malik and found enough about him to cause her to be cautious.
"On the contrary. I think you've already passed judgment on me," Malik replied. There was hurt in his voice. She could hear it, and she could see it in the twitch of muscle at the corner of his jaw.
Lana shook her head. "You forget, I'm only a visitor here. I'm just passing through. I'll be gone in a few days. I didn't think it would really matter what I think of you."
Malik leaned his head to one side. "You seemed to think well enough of me last night, on the terrace."
Lana felt her face flush with heat. The memories came flooding back, and she struggled to get control of them. In the same way, she'd struggled to forget Malik's touch when she had fought to go to sleep the previous night. That had been a long night, filled with thoughts of Malik, torturing memories of his touch, his tender attentions.
Lana knew part of the reason she was being so snarky was probably tiredness. But, there was also the possibility that she wasn't sure why Malik had brought her to this place. What was his plan? Because a man like Malik didn't do anything without a plan. Especially when it came to the opposite sex. He'd already taken her on a tour of the club, showing her every part of the establishment, every one of the opulently designed rooms. The pride on his features had been obvious.
So, what was next on his agenda?
"I haven't shown you every room in this place," Malik announced suddenly.
"Really?" Lana replied.
"There is one place I haven't shown you. And, I've arranged for us to share a special meal there."
Lana rolled her eyes and then fixed Malik with a firm look. "What if I'm not hungry?"
Malik's brows furrowed. "And here I was thinking we were just trying to be polite with one another," he said with a sarcastic edge.
Lana smiled in spite of herself. He was right. There was an implicit agreement between them. They had both been forced into this proximity, and there was no sense in making something unpleasant out of it. After all, they did have to think of the happiness of Mia and Rafiq. There was no place for bitterness or conflict. Not when there was a wedding coming up.
"Just what is this special place, as you call it?" Lana asked.
Malik stood, extending a hand toward Lana. "Let me show you."
Lana finished her drink and stood. Malik gestured in front of himself and Lana started to walk across the deep pile of the carpeted floor. They came to a lift and Malik twisted a key into the lock, opening the doors. Lana raised a brow at Malik. "Please. Enter," he instructed casually. She guessed it wasn't the first time he'd instructed a woman to enter this lift.
Lana stepped inside, and Malik followed. The doors closed and Lana noticed there were no buttons for choosing floors. She narrowed her eyes. "There is only one destination," Malik explained.
Lana felt the lift move. She leaned back against the rear wall, and Malik settled next to her. His powerful scent filled the small space. As before, she was taken aback by his sheer physical presence. Here, in the confines of the lift, he seemed to enclose her, forming a protective barrier around her. Lana curled her toes inside her suddenly tight-fitting shoes. She wondered what awaited her when the lift doors would eventually open. They were obviously going up. When they'd entered the club, she had glanced up at the exterior of the tall building with its modern glass designs. It had seemed strangely out of place in the city, almost too modern, as if it was a statement of something, a defiant declaration. No doubt Malik owned it, as he so obviously owned so many things.
They didn't speak, nor did they exchange glances. It was as if they were both aware of the awkwardness of being in such close proximity, the kind of closeness that seemed almost inappropriate given that they still hardly knew each other.
The lift slowed suddenly, and the doors opened. Lana stepped out and failed to contain the gasp that leapt to her throat.
The room in front of her was the perfect expression of a luxury, bachelor pad. It was all glass and metal surfaces, clean and sharp, ultra modern in every respect. On the far side of the room, tinted windows stretched the length of the room. Lana took a few steps toward the window. She heard the lift doors close behind her, and she knew she was alone in Malik's private apartment.
Lana walked to the windows and gazed out at the impressive view of the city, with the distant sea shimmering in the late afternoon light.
Malik halted at her side. "What do you think?"
Lana smiled. "It's beauti
ful." She turned to Malik. "I assume you own this place."
Malik nodded. "The entire building, actually."
Lana quirked a brow. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"
Malik's smile had certainty and just a touch of defiance about it.
Lana turned and gazed around the apartment. "Looks like a bachelor place, if you want my honest opinion," she offered.
"I wasn't really asking, but since you insist, I suppose you're right," he replied. Now it was his turn to be snarky, she thought. Maybe she deserved that. Perhaps it wasn't her place at all to judge how he lived.
A dinner had been laid out for them on a long table in the adjacent dining room. It also had stunning views across the city. Lana wondered just how much of this had been planned, and she had to conclude that all of it must have been arranged by Malik, well beforehand.
Was he simply trying to be polite, following his brother's advice, no doubt? Or was he trying to impress Lana? If he was trying to make an impression, why was he doing that?
The food was delicious, and the conversation between them settled into a combination of witty one-liners designed to keep things light between them and occasional attempts to dig a little deeper into one another's past.
Each one of those efforts ended in failure and Lana was glad that they had. It would be best if they didn't confess too much to one another. There was no sense in doing that.
After the meal was finished, they sat for a while and continued to chat. Lana learned that Malik was a skilful conversationalist. No doubt that particular skill had been honed through years of practice, and in this very place.
Malik seemed extraordinarily proud of his life and spoke about his achievements with visible satisfaction. Every time he tried to dig deeper into Lana's past, she rebuffed him, firmly, but politely. She saw his frustration after each of her refusals, but she was determined that they should only be friends.
Every once in a while, she glanced at a doorway at the far end of the room. She was sure that was where the bedroom lay. Best not to think of that, she told herself repeatedly. There was no way she was ever going to end up in that room. Not if she had any say in the matter.
