Beauty and the Sheikh

chapter 17



Holly wasn’t aware of how much time had passed but glanced up, disoriented, when the door opened.

Rafiq strode into the room, his brows drawn together in concern. “Holly, are you all right? One of the guards informed me you were upset.”

“I…I don’t really know.”

He crouched down beside her. “What is it, habiba?”

She closed her eyes. You need to know the truth. “What am I to you?”

There was a pause.

“I don’t understand what you’re asking,” he said warily. “Please, come back to the dinner. People are beginning to wonder where you’ve disappeared to.”

“This afternoon I told you I loved you, Rafiq.” She opened her eyes again just in time to see him flinch.

“Holly…”

“I know you said you needed me, but do you love me?”

Silence, so heavy and painful, and an answer in itself. A cry of anguish built in her throat, but she swallowed it, just barely. “I see. It doesn’t matter.” She hated that her voice broke.

“Holly, please, we should discuss this later—”

“I don’t suppose it ever mattered, when the bottom line is you must marry a woman of your culture.”

“I am the Sheikh of Raljahar. I can marry whoever I damn well please.”

Holly froze at his tease words and their context. “I don’t understand,” she said cautiously. “You can marry whomever you want? But all this time you led me to believe—”

“I never led you to believe anything but the truth.”

“And what is the truth, Rafiq? Because I confess that at this point, I have no idea.”

“The truth is I will never marry you.”

His harsh words hurt more than if he’d slapped her. She made a soft gurgle of dismay, knowing her face must reflect the horror and humiliation.

He stopped pacing and turned to face her. His face was scrunched up, his mouth tight, with pain. It seemed each word hurt him equally. “I didn’t want to have this conversation now, Holly.” He cursed and moved away from her, his long strides eating up the room as he walked. “I can never marry for love.”

His words hit like tiny knives into her soul, even as part of her wanted to grasp at the word love. He’d used the word love. Could that mean he did love her?

“My uncle may be dead, but there are still people who would take my Sheikhdom by force if needed. Now more than ever.”

She shook her head. “How does that have anything to do with me?”

“Because they will use you, Holly. Just as they used my mother.” He returned to her, sinking down on the settee and fumbling to grasp her hands. His words held so much meaning. Insistence.

She wanted to understand—needed to understand—because there was so much she was missing. “Rafiq—”

“My mother meant the world to my father, and my uncle used that against him.” Rafiq’s fingers tightened around hers. “My father was so blind with love, she was his only concern. He let this country fall apart and ultimately didn’t see the trap my uncle set. My uncle threatened my mother’s life and my father tried to save her. In the end it didn’t matter—both my parents were killed.”

“And you nearly were.” Some of the pieces fell into place.

“I will not have you used against me. I will not place your life at risk.” Rafiq’s expression was almost pleading, a bit desperate, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as her.

He did love her, she didn’t doubt it for a moment now, but unfortunately the one emotion she’d craved from him also destroyed any hope of a future between them.

A loud knock sounded on the door. Rafiq blinked, his gaze refocusing. That solid control he wore like a cloak slipped back into place.

He released her hands and then stood. “That is probably my advisor wondering where we are. We should return to the party, Holly. We have guests awaiting our return.”

Of course. Back to the pretense she was nothing but his woman of the month. Oh, right, but it wasn’t a pretense.

A sad smile twisted her mouth. “Give them my apologies, but please let them know I don’t feel well and won’t be returning.”

Rafiq hesitated, looking genuinely confused. “Holly, what happened during the dinner? You seemed quite happy earlier.”

Earlier she’d been functioning in a dream world that didn’t really exist. “I woke up,” she murmured simply.

He didn’t respond, but gave a frustrated sigh. “I will return shortly.”



But shortly didn’t come until well after one in the morning.

Rafiq scrubbed a hand down his face, exhaustion eating at every inch of his body. He glanced once more around the empty dining hall and then headed toward his room. Part of him dreaded facing Holly again, though he assumed she would be asleep by now.

How could she not, after such an emotionally trying day? He hadn’t intended to purge all his past and fears upon her, but they’d surfaced anyway.

Perhaps it was better they had. Now there would be no more disillusions between them, no expectations. She’d said she loved him, but what if she was just confused because he’d been her first lover?

She would move on some day and forget him, but for now they could still live as lovers. That had to be enough. Everything within him wanted to crawl into bed and pull her into his arms.

He would make her forget their conversation earlier, erase the line on her forehead that displayed her unhappiness.

Already he envisioned waking her with a slow kiss and hearing the shift in her breathing as she reached for him.

Rafiq opened the door to the bedroom and stumbled over his own feet.

Holly was indeed in bed, but not asleep, and in bed was probably not the correct terminology. She sat on the edge, fully dressed, with a suitcase at her feet.

His heart began a slow thud. “Are you going somewhere, habiba?”

“I’m leaving.”

He tried to force an amused laugh, even as his stomach clenched. “Are you now?”

“Our deal expired at midnight, Rafiq. If you hadn’t noticed, it’s been three months exactly. I’m free to go.”

Had it been? No, it couldn’t be possible. Not this soon. But by the stoic determination on Holly’s face, he knew all he needed to do was find a calendar to prove her words true. “You don’t need to leave.”

“Don’t I?” She arched a brow, but he saw the pain flicker in her eyes. “Would you have me stay and handpick your future wife?”

“Of course not,” he said tersely.

“You said you needed to marry. Well, your plan worked. Mothers are throwing their daughters your way. Women watch you wherever you go—though they always have.”

He ignored her foolish ramblings and shook his head. “I want you to stay.”

“Perhaps Nuha Albujar?”

Was she trying to drive him mad? “I don’t want her.”

“No, you don’t. You want me.” It wasn’t a question, but nor was it a gloating reply. Holly spoke the word tonelessly, an indication she knew how impossible it was.

“I can’t marry you,” he choked out.

“Yes, you can, Rafiq. You admitted it hours ago, but you won’t.” She stood and reached for the suitcase next to her. “Just as I won’t be your mistress any longer. I respect myself too much for that.”

He curled his fingers around her arm as she moved past him. “You can’t leave. Not…not this time of night.”

“I’ve hired a car to take me to the airport. It’s better this way. By the time the paparazzi are aware I’ve left the palace with my bags, I’ll be gone.” She gently pried his fingers from her arm and stepped away. “My flight leaves just after dawn.”

“Please.” Desperation clawed at him as she walked toward the door. He curled his hands into fists, knowing how close he was to running to the door and blocking it.

You can’t make her stay.

“I don’t want to lose you, habiba.”

“And that’s just it, Rafiq. You don’t have to.” She paused but didn’t turn around. “You realize that refusing to marry me won’t guarantee my safety.”

Wouldn’t it? With her as his wife, she would always be a target and could always be used as leverage against him.

“I want you to realize the truth. I really do. Because you deserve happiness.” Her voice broke, showing the emotion he knew she didn’t want to reveal.

He tried to form a response, find the perfect words to convince her to stay. But they could never be the ones she wanted.

Holly’s shoulders crumpled before she again straightened them. With a slight nod, she strode out the door and out of his life.

Rafiq stared at the closed door and didn’t fight the heavy desolation that swept through him like a desert storm.