In the Sheikh's Service

by Susan Stephens

  The plane was turning. They were making their descent. Frowning, Malachi flipped open his laptop, punching the keyboard, his face impassive as he searched through his emails.

  ‘I feel your pain, sweetheart,’ he said softly, ‘and I wish I could help. But unfortunately I’m a little baffled as to what it is you think I’ve done.’

  Despite the neutrality of his words, he felt her anger gritty on his skin. Five years of silence and she randomly decided to ring up and shout at him about his morals and his lack of empathy. He frowned again. For some inexplicable reason she had once managed to turn his world upside down and inside out. It was a little surprising, not to say unsettling, to discover that she could still do so.

  But his surprise was forgotten as finally he found the source of her outrage. So that was why she was so upset!

  Leaning back, he stared at the screen, his eyes fixed on his wife’s name. In theory, their conversation was over. He could and probably should simply hand the matter over to his social responsibilities department but—his eyes gleamed—where would be the fun in that?

  ‘As I’m sure you remember, I run a huge operation,’ he said disingenuously. ‘Perhaps you could explain exactly what it is you think I’ve done.’

  Addie felt a flash of impatience.

  First he pulled the financial rug from under her feet, and now he was pretending he didn’t know anything about it. She might have been idealistic and eager enough to take his words at face value when they’d first met, five years ago, but thanks to Malachi she’d become an expert in double-dealing.

  ‘Oh, please! Do you really think I’m that stupid? You can’t bluff your way out of this one, Malachi. This is not some game of cards!’

  ‘Indeed it is not. Card games have rules, and players don’t tend to screech unfounded accusations at one another.’

  The taunting note in his voice made her heart bang in her throat, and suddenly she was gripping the phone so tightly her hand hurt.

  ‘They are not unfounded. And I’m not screeching,’ she snapped.

  Damn him. He was so infuriating! Always twisting the facts. And so impossible to pin down. Unless she concentrated hard she was going to lose track of why she’d rung him in the first place, and probably end up saying or doing something stupid. Although not as stupid as agreeing to marry him.

  Her blue eyes hardened like water turning to ice. Reining in her temper, she said crisply, ‘You signed the letter, Malachi. I have it in front of me.’

  ‘I sign lots of letters,’ he said smoothly. ‘It could be anything. Dry cleaning. Overdue library book.’

  Addie gritted her teeth. She had rung him in anger, knowing that right was on her side. Only now he was making her fury seem out of place—comical, even—as though she was trying to rob a bank with a water pistol. Worse, she could feel herself responding to the teasing note in his voice.

  It was suddenly hard to breathe. Memories of the past were pressing in on her. Memories of the man she had loved—not just because of his staggering good looks but because he was cool and funny. And flirty.

  She felt her insides tighten and a prickling heat began to spread slowly over her skin.

  Even the most prosaic of words sounded warm and honeyed when spoken in that slow, sexy drawl of his. For a moment she allowed herself to picture his handsome face, that wicked gleam in those dark, hypnotic eyes, the slight upward curve to his gorgeous lush mouth—

  Her heart was banging.

  Don’t forget the lies that spilled from that gorgeous lush mouth, she reminded herself coldly.

  Particularly those he’d told her at the altar. Next time she felt like reminiscing over her husband’s charms she needed to remember those lies and how they’d left her struggling even to get out of bed some mornings.

  Gripping the phone more tightly, she lifted her chin. ‘As you well know it’s about the centre. So quit pretending that you had nothing to do with stopping my funding.’

  Staring at the screen in front of him, Malachi shifted slowly in his seat, waiting, thinking, deliberating.

  Until two minutes ago her letter had just been one of the many that were handed to him every week. And yes, he’d signed it. But did she really believe he would do such a thing to her charity out of malice? His face tightened. Probably, and he knew she had reason to think so, but he didn’t like the fact that she thought so badly of him.

  ‘You’re right. I did sign the letter,’ he said coolly. ‘But, like I said before, I sign hundreds of letters every week. I don’t read them all—or even write them, actually. Except those that are personal.’

  ‘You mean like a letter to your wife?’ Addie said acidly.

  Malachi stared straight ahead. Her words stung, as she’d intended them to.

  ‘I suppose I asked for that.’

  Feeling a stab of pain, Addie breathed out slowly. ‘Yes. You did.’

  At least if he’d known nothing about the letter she might have been able to believe he would have acted differently. But how had he not noticed her name? Or remembered her charity? For a moment she contemplated asking him, but her pride forbade her from revealing the grinding ache of misery in her chest. Besides, what was the point? It was all too long ago to matter.

  She heard him sigh.

  ‘I can understand how it might have looked to you. But it’s quite simple, really. We offer financial support to emerging charities for a fixed period—in your case five years. By that time we would expect the project to be up and running and the funding would be cancelled. My signing the letter was just a formality.’

  A formality!

  Her lips twisted.

  What a perfect footnote to a marriage that had been nothing more than a business strategy—for Malachi, at least.

  ‘So,’ he said softly, ‘is that it? Are we good? Or is there something else you want to discuss?’

  Her stomach gave a lurch as his words ricocheted inside her head. What did he mean? Something else you want to discuss. Was he just being polite? But even if a prickling tension hadn’t begun to spread over her skin she knew he wasn’t. She could hear the dare in his voice, the challenge, fluttering between them like a ribbon in a breeze.

  Damn him. If Malachi wanted to talk about their relationship he could bring it up himself. Speaking to him had been a necessary evil. But she absolutely, definitely wasn’t going to make polite conversation with him. And she certainly didn’t want to discuss their marriage.

  Or did she?

  Her cheeks grew warm. Ringing Malachi had been a spur of the moment act. Confronted by what she’d seen as a deliberate act of provocation, she’d been swept along in a rush of anger and outrage. Only now her anger was slipping away, and reluctantly she found herself acknowledging the whole truth.

  That she could simply have ignored the letter.

  Or let a solicitor contact King Industries.

  Or asked to speak to someone other than Malachi.

  But she hadn’t because deep down, buried beneath the resentment and the pain and the hurt, she had wanted that chance to speak to him. She shivered. It had been reckless, stupid. But surely she could forgive herself that one moment of weakness. After all, didn’t every disappointed lover have some tiny sliver of longing to hold on to their fantasy of love?

  But that didn’t mean she was ready to discuss her failed marriage with the man who had trampled on that selfsame heart. Any more than she’d been willing five years ago to share more than the barest details about herself —particularly those concerning her life-changing accident. It would have required a trust that simply wasn’t there.

  She breathed in sharply. Right now, however, there were other less personal but more pressing matters to resolve. Like getting her funding back.

  ‘No. We’re not good! I accept that you didn’t personally choose to stop the funding but that doesn’t change the fact that it has stopped.’

  She paused. Despite her bravado her heart had started to thump inside her chest. It had been easier when
anger had been driving her. But ranting and raging was clearly not going to persuade Malachi to rethink his decision. That would require a softer, more conciliatory touch. Appalled, she licked her lips nervously. Stay neutral and stick to the facts, she told herself quickly. The funding was vital, the centre’s work lasting and beneficial, and of course his generosity would be much appreciated. But, first off she needed to test the water.

  Lifting her chin, she said firmly, ‘Which is why I’d like you to change your mind.’

  Malachi leaned back in his seat, a predatory smile curling his lip. It was a reasonable request. But it was still a request. One that he had the power to approve.

  Or not.

  ‘As I explained,’ he said smoothly, ‘I receive many requests for financial support. You yourself know of many deserving charities in Miami.’

  ‘I do,’ she agreed hurriedly. ‘But the work we do with the children is enormously valuable and unique to the city.’

  Standing up, Malachi stretched slowly and stifled a yawn. Could he be bothered to drag this conversation out any longer? The amount under discussion would barely make a dent in his billions. He could have a new agreement written up in minutes, sign it and say goodbye to Addie for ever. Or he could simply refuse to renew the funding and hand it over to his lawyers. Either way, in a matter of minutes she would be off the phone and out of his life for good.

  His chest ached. Except now that she’d finally made contact with him saying goodbye was the last thing on his mind.

  ‘True enough,’ he said finally. ‘But, be that as it may, there would have to be exceptional circumstances for me to renew your funding.’

  The phone twitched in her hand and holding it suddenly felt dangerous, as though it had morphed into a snake. There was a long, pulsing silence and Addie licked her lips again. His words were innocuous enough, but she could feel the danger shimmering behind them. Only, having come this far, what choice did she have?

  She took a deep breath. ‘What kind of exceptional circumstances?’

  Her voice sounded taut and high—too high. To her strained nerves it sounded desperate, needy—hardly the image she was striving to convey. As far as Malachi was concerned she wanted him to think that she was doing just fine. Better than fine, in fact. She wanted him to imagine her as gorgeous and successful—and utterly out of his reach.

  Breathing in sharply, she glanced down at the letter on her desk and scowled. ‘What kind of circumstances?’ she repeated more steadily.

  Malachi stared in silence out of the window. The sun was turning the sky a pale gold. It was going to be another beautiful day. A small smile curled his lips.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said truthfully. ‘But I imagine I would have to look into the case closely...’ He paused, relishing the tension quivering down the phone line. ‘Very closely. In fact I would definitely have to meet with the applicant. In person.’

  Addie held her breath. Her body seemed to have turned to liquid.

  ‘N-No!’ she stammered. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

  ‘But I do. I don’t just hand out money to anyone, you know.’

  ‘I’m not anyone!’ she snapped. ‘I’m your wife.’

  Too late, she saw that she had fallen into his trap.

  ‘Which is another good reason for us to meet,’ he said slowly. ‘We can talk about our marriage.’

  Her office suddenly felt airless. Her nerves were shrieking like a car alarm. Suddenly he wanted to talk about their marriage? Was he mad? Or deluded?

  ‘No, we can’t! I won’t. Dragging up the past isn’t going to change anything,’ she said shakily. ‘We just have to accept it was a mistake—’

  ‘Was it?’

  Addie blinked. It had been a disaster. And Malachi knew that as well as she did.

  ‘Yes. It was.’ She spoke too quickly, the words keeping pace with her heartbeat. ‘I can’t imagine what I was thinking!’

  ‘Can’t you?’

  She took a quick breath, almost like a gasp. His voice was slow and glowing with a heat that she could feel down the phone. A heat that crept under her skin and coiled around her heart so that suddenly she couldn’t seem to breathe properly.

  ‘That’s probably because what we shared had very little to do with thought, sweetheart.’

  He paused and she felt the heat spike inside her.

  ‘Mostly it had to do with tearing each other’s clothes off.’

  Addie swallowed. Her hand felt damp against the phone. A drumroll of fear and longing was beating so loudly that for a second she thought it was coming from outside of her body.

  ‘I don’t remember,’ she whispered.

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ he murmured. ‘I know you remember that time in the lift.’

  She shivered. She did remember. Could remember it as if she were there now, watching herself and Malachi, his hand slipping beneath her dress, her body arching against his as she tugged feverishly at his belt.

  With a pure effort of will she dragged her mind back to the present.

  ‘Apart from being irrelevant to this discussion, it was all a long time ago. So, no, I don’t,’ she lied. ‘Unlike you, Malachi, my life, like most people’s lives, does not just revolve around sex!’

  ‘You think? Then you’re either excessively naive or an extremely bad liar.’

  She heard the amusement in his voice.

  ‘Sex drives all human life. What did you think our relationship was based on? A mutual love of seafood!’

  Addie felt a dull pain start to throb in her chest. No. She hadn’t thought it was based on seafood. Fool that she was, she’d actually hoped and believed that their relationship had been based on love. An ache spread through her chest, hot and dark like a summer storm. Only love required honesty and trust, not secrets and lies. And neither of them had ever told the other the truth.

  ‘I don’t like seafood any more,’ she snapped. ‘Nor do I want to listen to your one-dimensional views on relationships. And I especially don’t want to discuss them, or anything else for that matter, with you in person.’

  ‘Really?’ he said in that slow, sexy drawl that made her blood hum and her skin turn to glue. ‘That’s a shame. You see, I was hoping you’d meet me for lunch so we could discuss your funding. You do want me to renew your funding, don’t you, sweetheart?’

  Addie stood up, pushing her seat back with such force that it fell backwards onto the floor. But she barely noticed, such was her panic to block out that seductive velvet-smooth voice. And the urgent response of her body to it.

  ‘I’m not going to meet you for lunch, Malachi!’

  ‘You think dinner might be better?’ he said disingenuously, completely ignoring the fury in her voice. ‘I’m happy to do either. What do you fancy? French? Or what about some ceviche? There’s a great new Peruvian place just opened up.’

  Dinner! A vein was pulsing painfully in her forehead and mechanically she pressed her fingers against it. ‘I don’t want to eat French or Peruvian,’ she said shrilly. ‘And I’m not meeting you for lunch or dinner or any other kind of meal.’

  ‘Pity!’ His voice was dark and loaded. ‘Because that’s the only way you’re going to get your funding out of me.’

  ‘Fine,’ she snarled. ‘Then I’ll just have to get the money some other way.’

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ he murmured. ‘You always were very imaginative, as I recall.’

  Her temper finally snapped. ‘You are disgusting and I never want to speak to you again.’

  He laughed. ‘I’m a little unclear. Did we agree on lunch or dinner?’

  With a howl of fury, she hung up.

  Still laughing, Malachi switched off his phone and dropped it onto the desk. He gazed thoughtfully across the plane’s cabin, wondering what she would wear when he saw her again. For, whatever she’d said, their meeting was as inevitable as the sun rising and setting. His heart began to thump; his blood was pumping, slow and heavy. Nor was it hate that had made her han
g up on him. It was fear. She was scared—scared of the connection between them and her response to it.

  And so she should be.

  His grey eyes flared and feeling his groin harden, he let out a long, slow breath as a trickle of anticipation ran down his spine.

  She might not have been the perfect wife he’d imagined, but Addie had never been boring. On the contrary—she had been feisty and stubborn and impulsive. Which meant that lunch—or, better still, dinner—was a foregone conclusion. All that remained was for him to choose a restaurant and a tie.

  And, letting out a sigh of satisfaction, he settled back into his chair to enjoy the view.

  Copyright © 2016 by Louise Fuller

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