“Quite a welcoming committee,” Sarah murmured under her breath, though perhaps not quietly enough. She was sure she saw the woman to the left of the bed hide a smile.
“You are the American?” Adin asked, his voice croaky but still rich with command.
“This is my wife,” Syed said through bared teeth. “Her Royal Highness Sarah Al’Eba.”
Adin’s smile was stretched across his face. “The American you could not forget. Come closer, child. Let me see you.”
Butterflies rampaged Sarah’s stomach but she did as the old man had commanded, her chin tilted at a defiant angle, her eyes sparking flame and confidence to anyone who dared challenge her.
“I did not realise everyone would be here,” Syed said, right beside Sarah.
Stand by my side, when I need you most. And he was doing just that.
“Well,” the woman to the left spoke. Her voice was clipped, her accent British, and obviously extremely upper-class. “Of course we’re here. How many times do we get to meet a new member of the family?”
She broke formation first, moving towards Sarah and extending her arms. Her hug was kindness itself; she kissed each of Sarah’s cheeks and then stepped back, making way for Charlotte to welcome Sarah.
“So,” Charlotte said, her smile genuine. “You’re the woman who stole my fiancé.” She winked over Sarah’s shoulder at Syed and then laughed. “I would say that worked out very well for both of us, no?”
Sarah couldn’t help but return the woman’s smile. “I didn’t know about you.”
“I know.” Charlotte squeezed her hand. “I am pleased to meet you.”
Behind her, she heard Syed’s exhalation of breath.
“My son has only ever disregarded my wishes once,” Adin said into the room, his eyes pinned to Sarah’s face. “He tells me he loves you.”
Sarah arched a brow and nodded. “He tells me the same thing.”
Beside her, she heard Violet’s quiet laugh.
“And you love him?”
Sarah thought about a sarcastic rejoinder. But instead, she spoke with complete seriousness. “Why else would I marry him?”
She saw Zahir stiffen and she knew that he was yet to be convinced. But his wife was obviously supportive of their marriage, and that was something. “I would have married him five years ago, and I had no idea who he was or what fortune he had. To me, he is just Syed.”
Adin nodded. “And to us.” He turned his face towards the windows and frowned. “It is a nice afternoon. Have the table set for lunch. We should eat together – as a family.”
“YOU ARE STUNNING.”
Sarah threw him a look of concern but then, she nodded.
“It’s definitely this dress.”
She ran her hands down the exquisite gown that had been pain-stakingly stitched for her. A cream colour it fell in swathes and swathes of floating fabric with gold beads and diamonds stitched over the arms and bodice. “And this crown.” She lifted her fingers, slightly shaking, to the elaborate, heavy piece of jewellery that adorned her head. “And the makeup.”
“It’s everything about you,” Syed assured his wife.
Her eyes met his in the mirror and she turned slowly, conducting her own inspection of his appearance. The traditional robes always looked amazing on him, but today, knowing the significance of what they were doing, it felt different somehow.
The coronation ceremony had been in the works for the month they’d been in Kalastan.
“Right back at you,” she murmured, biting down on her lower lip before realising that she might eat off her lipstick.
“You know,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing him closer. His body was hard, and she felt her own body soften against it, her gut churn in pleasurable anticipation. She blinked up at him, waiting, expectantly. “If we had ten minutes more…”
“Yes?” She murmured.
He dropped his lips to her throat, breathing a kiss against her sensitive flesh there. “I’d help you to forget all this. To remember that you’re here because I love you, and I’m a man, and you’re a woman, and all this is just meaningless froth.”
His hands grazed the dress, finding her breasts and she moaned, arching her back.
“I remember that anyway,” she said throatily.
“Still,” he laughed, “a little reminder wouldn’t hurt.”
He pushed her back against the wall, his strong legs on either side of her, straddling her so that she could feel the hint of his erection. He pushed it against her, grinding it to her core and making her knees feel like they were about to fall out.
“I think I can get out of this dress pretty quickly,” she lied, thinking guiltily of the four attendants it had taken to button her up.
“Look! Look! I’m a princess!”
Sarah made a choking noise as Lexi burst into the room, twirling in the centre. Syed recovered impressively quickly, straightening from the wall and turning his back on Sarah to allow her a moment unseen to recover her wits.
Lexi was wearing a miniature version of Sarah’s dress, right down to the diamonds and gold – something Sarah had expressed ambivalence about. A four year old could hardly be trusted to care for something so valuable. But Sasha had promised she’d take care of both Lexi and the dress.
Sarah’s breath fired in her lungs and disappointed curdled her soul. God, she wanted to make love to her husband. It was ridiculous; only hours earlier they’d done just that, but her need was rampant.
“Yes you are,” Syed crouched down, straightening Lexi’s crown and smiling at her face. “And today all of my people will know it.”
“Will they clap at me?”
“Clap for you? Yes.”
“Will it be like in Cinderella? Will they bow to me? Will there be a ball?”
He laughed and nodded. “But you’ll turn into a pumpkin if you stay too long, so Sasha will take you to bed after the first dance.”
“Ohhhh,” Lexi nodded, her eyes huge. “Really? An actual pumpkin?”
Sarah watched the interaction with warmth bursting through her. “No, darling,” she soothed, sending Syed a droll look as she crossed towards them and reached down for her daughter. She lifted Lexi easily and propped her on her hip.
“You look like a princess,” Lexi complimented Sarah with the biggest kindness in her arsenal. “So pretty.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh!” Sasha burst through the door, her face pale. “Lexi!” She laughed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, your highnesses. She told me she was going to the bathroom.”
Sarah laughed. “Cheeky monkey.” She kissed Lexi’s cheek and placed her down on the floor and Sasha took her hand.
“I’m sorry we interrupted.”
Sarah’s cheeks flamed pink, hoping Sasha didn’t know exactly what she’d interrupted.
“I suppose we’ll have to get used to that,” he said with a smile.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah shook her head, her eyes crinkled at the corners. “She’s used to having me all to herself…”
“I know.” He kissed the tip of Sarah’s nose. “And please, your highness, don’t apologise. I hope to have many, many little Lexis in our life, you know.”
“Many, many?” Sarah stared up at her husband, her mouth open in surprise.
“Well, at least three. Maybe four? Five?”
“Ummm…” She laughed.
“What?” He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her closer. Her body leaned in instinctively, moulding to his shape. “You don’t like that idea?”
Sarah nodded. “I love the idea.” And she did. “I suppose I’d never run out of photographic subjects,” she pointed out.
“Ah, yes. About that.” He detached himself from her and her body groaned with disappointment, a disappointment that grew as he moved towards the door and left the room. She stood there, a quizzical expression on her face, for several moments.
Then, he reappeared, a black case in his hand. “For you.”<
br />
She knew instantly what it was, of course. The camera brand was emblazoned over the case.
“You got me that?” She asked, blinking her eyes.
“Not me, no.”
He put it on the dressing table and, her curiosity increasing, Sarah moved towards it and clicked the latches, lifting the lid. A note lay on top of the camera. She lifted it up, unfurling it.
The initials DB were marked in the top.
DEAR SARAH,
I UNDERSTAND you have a talent for photography. I will visit Kalastan in a month and would enjoy spending time with you, travelling and taking some shots. Please accept this as a gift from me on the occasion of your wedding.
DIETER BLACKMANN.
SHE DROPPED the paper and spun around, her eyes huge as she stared at her husband.
“THE Dieter Blackmann?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “He’s taken several royal portraits.”
“Oh,” she nodded, but her head was spinning. Dieter Blackmann was regarded to be the world’s top photographer. He was highly-sought for portraits but it was his landscapes that had always captivated Sarah. “Wow.”
“My beautiful wife, I want you to pursue your dreams – it seems only fair, given that you’ve made all mine come true.”
Her heart twisted and tears sprung to her eyes. “I … thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said quietly. “This is nothing more than you deserve.” He kissed her forehead softly. “Now. Shall we?”
A NEW SHEIKHA had arrived in Kalastan, and despite the worries of Adin and Zahir, Sarah Al’Eba caused a swelling of interest and admiration. Her grace, beauty and the obvious acceptance from the royal family all added to her natural appeal. In the month they’d spent in Kalastan, Sarah had been frequently photographed with Charlotte or Violet, and their friendships had established quickly, yet deeply. Sarah was, universally, adored.
But it was, perhaps, Lexi who stole the show when, halfway through the official ceremony, she fell asleep. Syed simply lifted her into his arms and cradled her against his chest as the event continued.
The photo was everywhere the next day; the Sehikh had found his family and the Kingdom had fallen in love right alongside him.
THE END
THE BILLIONAIRE’S RUTHLESS REVENGE
All the characters in this book are fictitious and have no existence outside the author’s imagination. They have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names and are pure invention.
All rights reserved. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reprinted by any means without permission of the Author.
The illustration on the cover of this book features model/s and bears no relation to the characters described within.
First published 2016
(c) Clare Connelly
Photo Credit: dollarphotoclub.com/gstockphoto
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“Your attitude’s appalling, got it, boy?”
At five years old, Kyle hadn’t yet learned to box away harsh criticisms. He felt them keenly.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered, his face grubby and stained by tears.
“Sorry? Not as sorry as you will be. Get in the library.”
The library? Barely. A couple of weakened timber shelves that housed an assortment of books and magazines was hardly worth such a grandiose title.
“The library? Why?”
“Why? Are you back-chatting?”
“No, sir.”
“Yes, sir,” he criticised. “Get in there now and you might escape a whipping. If you’re lucky.”
Kyle sobbed.
“Naw, stop your howling. I ain’t got no patience for it tonight.”
Kyle couldn’t stop though. Only a hand thumped against his small, bony back, knocked the breath out of him so that he could no longer cry.
Gradually Kyle would learn that crying – no, feeling – served very little purpose at all.
PROLOGUE
“Y ou’re actually asking me for a favour?” The words were loaded with his unique brand of arrogant mockery. “You walked out of our marriage without so much as even the appearance of an explanation and now you come to me for help?”
Her delicate throat knotted visibly as she swallowed.
“For six months you have been gone. The only way I even knew you were alive was when the divorce papers landed on my desk.”
“I know.” Meeting his eyes was almost impossible.
“Not even the courtesy of a call to tell me you’d met with a lawyer?”
“I …”
“You walked out on our marriage and disappeared into this air, and now you want my help?”
Anxiety perforated her being. “It’s not like I was hiding from you,” she said shakily. “You could have come to me.”
He narrowed his gaze. “When you’d made it so obvious you detested me?”
She instinctively railed against the description. She had never detested him. She had despaired for what they’d become; for what they were capable of doing to one another, but that was a far cry from detestation.
Yet what did it matter? The mess of their relationship was not at issue. Far too much water was under the bridge – most of it a result of her tears. A desire to rekindle their disastrous marriage wasn’t why she was standing in his office, pleading with him to intervene. “I wouldn’t have come to you today if it weren’t important.” She dug her nails into her palms until the pain eclipsed the other emotions that were swamping her.
“I see.” His handsome face darkened as he compressed his lips into a line of impatience. “Then get to the point, Annabelle. I have a meeting.”
Of course he did. When did he not?
Kyle Anderson hadn’t made his millions by sitting around idly. Every minute of his day was turned to good use. She knew from experience that he slept only the bare minimum each night, cramming his life with work, exercise and the glamorous social life that had proven to her, night after night, how little she belonged in his life.
She turned away from him slowly to shield the violet eyes he had always found far too easy to read. This office was amongst her least favourite places in the world. It was where she’d last seen him, she thought painfully, subconsciously moving to the same space she’d occupied on that hateful night. It had been warm then, and the sun still high in the sky despite the lateness of the hour. Manhattan had been sweltering in the midst of an August heatwave and Annie had still believed in love, and love’s innate goodness.
Six months later, even in the early evening, the sky was a gloomy black. Were her mood less severe she might have found something to admire in the twinkling lights far beneath them, and the streaks of warmth created by the cars hurtling to their destinations. But the beauty of the winter-scene barely registered on her fraught mind.
“Well, Annie?” He drawled, his voice coming to her as if from a long way away. She steeled herself to be strong. This would all be over soon enough.
“It’s Adam.” She turned around, her eyes not meeting his. She didn’t need to look at her husband to know how he’d react. Her brother had been a constant source of friction between them.
“Go on.” He adjusted his frame in the executive chair, unwittingly drawing her gaze to his broad shoulders and immaculate suit.
The memories were powerful. They seemed to sledge into her as if an actual force. The way he would smell if she stepped close enough to him – like the forest and freshly lopped pine trees. The way the suit would feel, smooth and cool. The shirt would be crisp, courtesy of the little drycleaners one block over that his assistant Maria faithfully took his wardrobe to each week. Annie had offered to do it for hi
m but he’d laughed, and said he had far better uses for her energies and talents.
At the time, she’d actually been flattered by the throwaway comment, as though it spoke of a desire that couldn’t be quenched. Now she saw it for what it had really been: yet another barrier to stop her from becoming an important part of his life. A line in the sand that she was not allowed to cross.
There was His World. And there was Annie’s world. She had rolled out the red carpet for him, willing him to become a part of all that mattered most to her. And he had kept her at the distance he kept everyone at.
“Get to the point, Annie. I don’t have time to sit and wait for you to unburden yourself.” He crossed one ankle over his knee, appearing as nonchalant and relaxed as ever. How she hated that about him! How could he feel so at ease when they hadn’t been in the same room for such a very long time? The answer was, of course, part of the problem. The billionaire tycoon was damaged goods, determined not to feel anything, ever. Except he did feel. She knew he did. He was just insanely adroit at keeping those emotions buried deep, deep down inside of his core.
“You made this appointment. You insisted to Maria that it was urgent. And yet you have spent the last ten minutes wearing a hole into the floor.”
“You’re making it hard,” she grimaced wearily, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself.
“I am simply sitting here asking you to speak. What about that is offensive to you?”
It wasn’t him, of course, so much as … him. Who he was to her. Who he would always be. The first man she’d loved. The first man she’d slept with. The only man she ever intended to marry. The man who had married Annie simply to acquire her into his life, rather than to incorporate her as a partner. She’d had a long time to think in the six months they’d been separated and two things had remained resoundingly clear: she had been right to marry him, for she had loved him deeply. And she had been right to leave him.
On legs that trembled, she moved to the desk and sat gingerly in one of the seats opposite him. Her hands she clasped in her lap so that their shaking would be less visible to his all-too-perceptive gaze.
The Sheikh's Million Dollar Bride & The Billionaire's Ruthless Revenge (Clare Connelly Pairs Book 6) Page 14
