Beauty and the Sheikh

chapter 8



Rafiq watched her leave and bit back a sigh. If he had a free afternoon, he would join her on the beach. The weather was hot and the water inviting, but he’d not come to Monaco for pleasure.

At least, not during the day. At night he’d little doubt he would find pleasure in bed with Holly. That was, once she surrendered to her body’s needs.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. What is this?” Holly’s appalled words reached him before she did, but a moment later she stood in front of him, fingers trembling as she held up the pieces of fabric.

“It appears to be swim wear.”

“Are you insane? I would never wear this—this—”

“Never? I’ve seen you wear far less in magazines photos.”

She shook her head. “I don’t actually wear bikinis like this in public to swim. For goodness sake, those were costumes for a photo shoot. They would probably melt if they touched actual water. I refuse to wear this. Can’t you find a one piece or something less skimpy? This is—”

“What has been purchased for you, and so you shall wear it. You have a lovely body, habiba, and it puzzles me why you feel the need to hide it. I thought you American women were so comfortable in your desire to wear very little clothing.”

“That’s a huge generalization.”

“Hmm. We are both guilty of those, are we not?” He gave an offhanded shrug. “Though, if you desire, you may simply wear the bottoms of the suit.”

Horror reflected in her gaze now. “Just the bottoms? You think I would swim without a top?”

“It is custom here. If you are not fond of the suit I’ve provided you with, it is an option.”

Her fingers clenched around the sapphire string bikini and she glared at him. “Never mind, I’ll wear this. And for the record, Rafiq, I am not someone who prefers clothing that lets everything hang out, thank you very much.”

“Ah, your manners have returned.”

He nearly laughed as her face reddened and she seemed ready to explode. Then she turned on her heel and disappeared once more.

Rafiq bit back a chuckle and went to unpack his laptop so he could check his email.

Minutes passed and he became so engrossed in business, he almost didn’t notice Holly leave the bedroom once more. But his attention was swiftly caught when he spotted the flash of exposed flesh moving past him.

She hadn’t even put on a cover-up and her pale curves were in full view, save for the tiny scraps of blue over her breasts and bottom.

His response came swiftly, the blood moving straight toward his groin.

“Does it please you?” she challenged with a saccharine smile, even as her eyes sparkled with defiance.

“You should put on a cover-up. Something,” he managed to choke out.

“I thought you were comfortable with me wearing this suit? Don’t worry, I’ve got a sarong in my bag. Perhaps I’ll put it on in the elevator.” She slid a pair of oversized sunglasses from her bag onto her head. “Have fun working, Rafiq. I’ll try to soak up some sun for you. And, you know, maybe I will consider going topless, after all. Who needs tan lines?”

She’d done that on purpose, he realized as she left. She knew exactly how amazing she looked in that tiny swimsuit, had strutted out to give him an eyeful, and then left. Knowing full well he’d be stuck in the suite and she would be enjoying the beach.

Just as you basically ordered her to do. Dammit. He would’ve been amused if he weren’t kicking himself right now. He’d personally selected the bikini, envisioning him being the one to enjoy the results, not the entire population of beach goers in Monaco. And then she’d thrown that little taunt about perhaps taking off her top.

He didn’t believe her, not for a moment. But still, the possibility sent the blood pounding thick and volatile through his veins.

Rafiq groaned and turned back to his email but then hesitated and picked up his mobile instead. When his assistant answered his call, he said, “I need you to pick out the most—I don’t want to say the word ‘hideous’—but shall we say, ‘plain’ one-piece swimsuit you can find.”



Rafiq had just closed his laptop when the door to the penthouse opened. The stress from the past hour had made him put his thoughts of Holly on hold, but she resurfaced to the forefront as she strode in, blotting her hair with the towel. His gaze slid over her and disappointment pricked that she’d tied a sarong over her hips. Still, he could appreciate the swell of her breasts against the damp bikini top.

“Did you enjoy your swim?”

She started, having apparently not seen him on the leather chair in the corner of the suite.

“I did. The beach was lovely.” She pressed her towel against her front.

“I was sorry I could not join you. I think I would’ve enjoyed a swim myself.”

She didn’t back away, but he sensed she wanted to. “Well, all work and no play is your motto, I assume.”

“Something along those lines. Except when I make time to play.” He let the slight innuendo hang in the air. “Would you like a drink, Holly? A martini?”

“I don’t like hard alcohol, thank you.”

“Wine, then?”

“No. If you don’t mind, I’d simply like to take a shower and wash the sunblock off my skin.”

The image of Holly naked in the luxurious double-headed shower had all sorts of thoughts racing through his head. And none of them had to do with the problems arising with the plans for adding a second casino to Raljahar’s landscape.

Just inches from her, he couldn’t resist a lazy smile. “By all means, habiba. Would you care for company?”

“Not from you.”

Rafiq’s smile hardened and he ignored the small stab of pain her sharp remark evoked. No, never him—at least, not when there wasn’t something she needed in return. “Not from any other man, either. At least not for the next few months, in case you need the reminder.”

Her expression turned strangely empty and she seemed to stare at a point beyond his shoulder. “No, I don’t need the reminder. You’ve made it quite clear I’m essentially your property for the duration of the agreement, Rafiq.”

“Yes, you are.” He slid a hand out to cup the back of her neck, waiting until she focused her gaze on him again. He needed to see reaction in her eyes again. Some emotion. The emptiness sent alarm racing through his blood. “And I am very possessive of what belongs to me.”

Ah, there it was—the spark of resentment. It wasn’t desire, but he knew how quickly he could convert it to what he wanted.

“Go take your shower, Holly.”

He wanted to be alone again—he functioned better alone, anyway. The business with his deal nearly falling through had rattled him, and his nerves had yet to recover from how close he’d come to losing control in the limo earlier.

He’d almost taken her right then and there. Had they not arrived at the hotel he would’ve likely stripped her of the rest of her clothes and taken her on the leather seats. He wanted her with a ferocity unequaled to any woman he’d been with, stronger even than back when he’d been young and unflawed and had had women falling at his feet.

Holly had wanted him in the limo as well; there was no denying it. But once she’d regained her composure she’d withdrawn emotionally and frozen him out.

Rafiq’s mouth twisted. If he wanted Holly in his bed, then he would have to seduce her, because she only offered her body when she had something to gain. Any doubts he’d had were eradicated when she’d freely admitted it.

He couldn’t help but wonder, how often had she made love to other men in the back of a limo? In their penthouse suite at some posh hotel?

The idea of Holly with another man, seducing him for her own benefit, created something dark and ugly inside him.

For a moment he regretted not asking for more in their bargain, exchanging her brother’s freedom literally for the pleasure of her body. But that would have been a tasteless trade. He might not be the man he once was, but he was still Rafiq al Hakimi, Sheikh of Raljahar. He’d never paid or bargained for sex, and he would not start with Holly.

No, when she was beneath him in his bed, screaming his name, it would be because she wanted to be there. And despite his barbed parting comment, he had very little doubt it would happen, because when he touched Holly her response was all hot-blooded woman.

Hearing the shower turn on, Rafiq closed his eyes but could not stop the image of her naked body beneath the sluice of water.

His blood stirred and he bit back a savage curse. Would it never end, this constant need to possess her? No, he realized, it wouldn’t. Not until he’d bedded her. Only then would be able to rid her from his system.

Rafiq turned away from the bathroom and strode through the lavish penthouse to the balcony that overlooked the sea. Outside, gripping the railing, he drew in a slow breath of coastal air while taking in the various glittering shades of blue of the Mediterranean Sea. He loved his home in the desert with its raw, primitive beauty, but the ocean was a spectacular sight he never tired of, which was why he kept one of his vacation homes on the French Riviera. Perhaps he would take Holly there as well in the coming months.

The thought reminded him of the first time he’d planned to take her there, and it dampened his mood even more.

A sharp knock sounded on the door to the penthouse suite and with a reluctant sigh, Rafiq turned and went to answer it.

“Your Majesty.” One of his assistant’s bowed, her gaze lowered. “I have brought the personnel you’ve requested.”

“Thank you. Please, come in.” He stepped back and gestured for the woman and the two ladies behind her to enter.

“What’s going on?”

Footsteps sounded behind him and Rafiq turned to find Holly standing in the doorway. The white, plush hotel robe was cinched around her tiny waist and her hair fell heavy and wet over her shoulders. She was hardly petite, and yet the one word that flitted through his mind was fragile.

“Ah, Holly, this is Minnah. She is the daughter to one of my advisors and she has brought with her someone who will be able to tend to your beauty needs. Nails, hair—whatever you want, they are at your disposal.” He gave a dismissive wave and glanced at his watch. “I have a meeting, but tonight we will be dining with an investor. I will trust you to be ready by seven and meet us in the restaurant downstairs. Understood, habiba?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Rafiq blinked. Surely she couldn’t resent this gift of pampering? Even if so, how foolish was she to respond so disrespectfully in front of the ladies he’d hired on her behalf? “Of course you do. This is an indulgence, hardly a punishment.”

“Indulgence.” She gave a small, humorless laugh and looked away. “Don’t worry, Rafiq, I will be ready.”

“I have little doubt otherwise.” He crossed the room and lowered his mouth just above hers, sliding a possessive hand to her hip in the appearance of a lovers’ embrace. “You forget we have an audience. Never question me like that again when we are not alone.”

His intimate tone guaranteed only she heard, and it seemed she hadn’t realized how harmful her public defiance had been because she drew her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I’m sorry,” she said on a breath.

Instead of continuing the quiet discussion, he pressed his lips against hers in a long, deliberate kiss. When he lifted his eyes, he stared down at her and found her lashes lowered and her mouth parted. A wave of triumph swept through him, because he knew with pure male instinct that she was not faking, even with their audience.

“I will see you at dinner.” He turned and left the suite.



“I have to admit I had my doubts, Sheikh, that my investment in your vision would pay off.”

Rafiq offered a slight smile at Byron Olsen and lifted his glass of brandy, taking another sip. Without investors such as the wealthy oil tycoon from America, Raljahar may very well have fallen into ruin.

“But now, a decade later, your little country is thriving. I hear it’s quite the popular destination for not only the Europeans, but the rich Americans as well.” The man leaned forward and grinned. “Tell me, Sheikh, is that how you were reacquainted with Miss Winchester?”

Holly. Rafiq’s grip on his glass tightened as he cast another glance down the hallway to where the restrooms were located. She’d excused herself moments ago after finishing dinner. He’d scarcely been able to take his eyes off her the entire meal, had forced himself to keep his attention on his investor. “Miss Winchester had business in Raljahar when our paths crossed once more.”

“You are one lucky bastard, I tell you.” The tycoon pursed his lips and looked off into the distance. “They don’t make them like that anymore. She reminds me of that old-school-Hollywood glamorous type. Gorgeous girl.”

Rafiq made a grunt of agreement, even if he wasn’t thrilled with the direction of the conversation.

“She’s worth every penny too, I hear.”

Stilling, a cold, violent rage worked through Rafiq’s blood. Worth every penny? In what way? And how in the hell would the American have any idea of Holly’s worth?

“Is there something you’d like to share with me, Byron?” he asked, his silky tone infused with ice.

“No. Good God, no!” Byron’s eyes widened. “It’s nothing like that. I mean, I haven’t slept with her or anything. Forgive me, Sheikh Hakimi—I believe the alcohol has made my lips loose. I meant no disrespect. I’d just heard…”

Rafiq didn’t reply but stared the other man down until he paled and excused himself, mumbling something about having a cigarette.

It was common knowledge the American kept company with the celebrity sorts, but to hear his crude words about Holly made Rafiq reconsider his future in working with the man.

And unfortunately he suspected where those very rumors about Holly had originated. Likely with Rafiq himself. After he’d banished her from his country two years ago, the rumor mill had gone wild. He’d tipped off a tabloid source to the unpleasant conversation in the room, and just as he’d intended, it hadn’t taken long before Holly’s reputation had plummeted into the dodgy category. Though it wouldn’t have made her the first model to appear in the papers behaving badly, and hardly seemed likely to have been a career-killer.

And yet she’d disappeared from the industry shortly after. Because of him? A prick of guilt assailed him, one that wasn’t unfamiliar to him when he thought of Holly’s career. The past two years could not have been easy for her, with her brother’s irresponsibility, dwindling finances, and her struggle to adjust to her non-modeling life.

Rafiq lifted his drink to take another sip, his fingers tightening around the glass. Before he could drink, his gaze landed on Holly as she reappeared in the hallway.

His breath caught and the patrons around him seemed to fade to black. All he saw was Holly, fidgeting with her clutch and looking as if she were going to the gallows as she made her way back to him.

His heart knocked around in his chest like a ball at a rugby match, and his mouth grew suddenly dry. It was the same reaction he’d had when she first entered the restaurant. Holly was absolutely stunning. She had to be the most beautiful woman in the restaurant right now. In all of Monaco.

The dress she wore was one he’d arranged for her wardrobe. Long, blue and strappy, it clung in the right places and flowed elegantly in others. It highlighted her curves with each confident step she took.

But despite her confidence, he could easily spot the glimmer of reluctance in her gaze. Desolation. And he wanted it gone. Didn’t want to see it in Holly’s eyes when she looked at him.

He didn’t want to fight anymore. What happened two years ago was in the past; it would do neither of them any good to keep arguing about it and holding the bitter memories close to their hearts.

From this moment, he would put the past behind him. He needed to try and make a fresh start between them, or the next three months would be hellish for certain.

And pleasure seemed a much better alternative.