Breaking the Sheikh's Rules

Instantly Iseult fe

lt concerned. ‘Jamilah, what is it?’

Jamilah smiled tightly. ‘Nothing at all.’

But as Iseult watched Jamilah saw something or someone behind them, and went even more pale. Iseult turned around and saw a very tall, strikingly handsome man approaching. A jolt of recognition went through her, even though she’d never seen him before in her life.

She sensed Nadim tense beside her too, and when the other man arrived—so like Nadim in many ways but so different—Nadim said, ‘Iseult, I’d like you to meet my brother Salman…’

Iseult shook his hand, but even she could see that he wasn’t interested in her or Nadim. He had eyes only for Jamilah, who muttered something about finding someone and fled across the room. Salman watched her go, and Iseult thought she’d never seen anyone look so haunted in all her life. She’d heard gossip around the stables that he was known internationally as the Playboy Sheikh, and rarely came home, but now she could only think of what he and Nadim had been through as young boys.

With the bare minimum of conversation Salman went to leave too, but Nadim stopped him for a moment and said fiercely, ‘Don’t you think you should leave her alone?’

Salman looked at Nadim, his dark eyes flashing a warning that Iseult knew well as she’d seen it before. ‘Stay out of this, Nadim.’

And then he was gone. Iseult took a deep breath and felt shaky all of a sudden. For a moment there she’d had a vision of how she was going to be reacting in the future, when Nadim had dumped her for his next mistress, or even a wife. At the thought of not being able to be a part of that, she felt a physical pain grip her belly.

Iseult’s melancholic mood after witnessing Nadim’s exchange with his brother and Jamilah’s obvious distress had lingered through the rest of the evening and into the night, even when Nadim had made love to her with an almost fierce abandon, taking them both to a level of ecstasy that had left her shattered.

That melancholy rose again now, as she stood at the wall of the garden outside their rooms and looked out over the stunning city of B’harani in the distance, just beyond the huge walls of the palace.

But all she could see ahead of her was inevitable self-destruction if she continued on this path with Nadim.

She was also very afraid that the longer she indulged herself in this fairytale world of beautiful clothes and a personal maid and being made over on a daily basis, the more deluded she would become in thinking she was that kind of person.

Iseult knew herself well enough to believe that while she was sensible enough not to get sucked into that world immediately, it would be headier and more seductive than even she might be able to resist if it went on for much longer. And the mere thought of seeing Nadim take another mistress, or even a wife, nearly made her double over with pain.

A sound came from behind her, and she had a split second of composing herself before she felt a naked body at her back and strong, familiar arms snake around her waist. Iseult closed her eyes and leant back into Nadim, a sudden lump tightening her throat despite her best efforts.

Luckily he couldn’t see her face, and when he started to kiss the sensitive back of her neck and said huskily, ‘Come back to bed…’ Iseult let him take her by the hand and lead her inside. Weakly she told herself that she would give herself this weekend here in B’harani to indulge every aspect of this fairytale moment in time, but that as soon as they were back in Merkazad she had to end this affair.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘WE NEED to talk.’

The four words guaranteed to strike fear into the hearts of men everywhere and make them feel weak at the knees—for all the wrong reasons.

Iseult was looking at herself in her bathroom mirror. She tried again. ‘Look, Nadim, we need to talk…about us.’

She winced and made a face at her reflection. No matter how she said it, it still sounded like dialogue from a bad daytime soap opera.

Just then Lina appeared behind her, and Iseult started.

‘Sheikh Nadim is waiting for you.’

Iseult ignored Lina’s expressive look at her clothes, and took a deep breath and turned around. She made her way from her room up to Nadim’s palatial suite. He was expecting her for dinner. They’d returned from B’harani the day before yesterday, and this was the first moment she would have alone with him since their return.

The second night of Sultan Sadiq’s festivities had been as lavish and decadent as Nadim had said it would be. Lina had dressed Iseult in another full-length couture gown, this time in a deep red. And Nadim had presented her with a stunning set of ruby necklace and earrings to wear with it, not listening to her protests for a second. Weakly, Iseult had given herself up to the headiness of it all, guiltily relishing her finite time.

There had been close to a thousand guests, and a world-famous iconic rock band who, despite being in their twilight years, had strutted their stuff like men half their ages. Women on stilts in dresses made entirely of fresh flowers had moved among the guests. Enormous and intricate ice fountains had melted as the evening wore on into pools full of rare multi-coloured fish. Trays of vintage champagne had abounded, and belly dancers had flitted through the guests like exotic birds of prey, reminding Iseult hotly of her own brief foray into that world, and what had happened…

There had also been a charity auction in aid of hundreds of different charities, which had precipitated a spending frenzy that had escalated into the millions. Nadim had contributed some of the most exorbitant sums, clearly in league with Sadiq to up the ante by encouraging competition among the wealthy who hadn’t seemed to know when to stop.

He had confided dryly to Iseult at one stage, ‘Sadiq likes to lull his monied guests into a false sense of security by putting on a lavish show and then doing his darnedest to extract as much out of them as possible. When they leave after the weekend they’re invariably stumped as to how he managed to get them to part with so much money again.’

Iseult had tried to sound upbeat, even though with each passing moment she’d grown more melancholic. ‘A regular modern-day Robin Hood, with you as his wing man…’

Nadim had shrugged negligently. ‘It’s not many people in this world who can command a crowd full of some of the most powerful titans of industry, and Sadiq makes the most of it.’ He’d winked at Iseult. ‘With a little help from me.’