Exposed The Sheikh's Mistress

Those had been pivotal events in her life which had made her into the cool and confident professional she was today. The change hadn’t been easy, or instant, and she was not going to throw it all away because Hashim wanted to exact some kind of erotic payback for what had happened all those years ago. Or rather, what hadnot happened.

He despised her—he had made that perfectly clear—even though his body still wanted her. And on some level she still wanted him, too. But she would not allow herself to be picked up and used like some kind of convenience—to be tossed away at the earliest opportunity. And she would not repeat the mistakes of yesterday.

If he said things to rile or provoke her she would not rise to them. They could not have a scene if she didn’t react to him. If he attempted to taunt her then she would just give him a cool and glacial smile. She would remain brisk, crisp and polite—in short, she would be utterly professional, and he would be unable to find fault with her.

Surprisingly, he was already at the table. She was a little early, and had expected him to be late, but, no, there he was. Waiting. Making the rest of the room shrink into insignificance. At a shadowed corner table sat two of the ever-present bodyguards.

Sienna walked towards him, looking for some kind of acknowledgement—a nod of his dark head in greeting—but there was nothing. Just those black eyes trained on her like twin barrels of a hunter’s gun.

His hard, lean body was completely still, but his stance was tense, the powerful limbs coiled like a lion before pouncing. He seemed completely oblivious to the covert glances of the other diners in the room. To the almost tangible air of excitement among the normally celebrity-jaded waiters.

Hashim watched her approach, helpless and yet furious with himself for being unable to suppress the instant leap of lust he felt, for he had trained himself to control his desires. To be master of his wants and needs—not servant to them. A man who could control his sexual hunger was all-powerful, for sex made men weak. And his control had never failed him. How else could he have so ruthlessly given Sienna pleasure and then denied himself the relief of his own body? And bitterly regretted it ever since!

Yet on one level she remained a mystery to him. He had known women more beautiful than her—so what was the secret of her particular allure? The seductive sway of her hips? The too-big eyes which looked like those of a startled deer? Or just the fact that he had never had her when other men had? That he had paid homage to her virginity only to have its falseness revealed to him in the most humiliating way of all.

He let his eyes rove over the breasts themselves—so proud and magnificent and full. Yet she was hiding her most marketable asset beneath that rather unremarkable linen dress. His lips curled. How he hated linen—surely the most unflattering material a woman could wear, with its coarse feel and its tendency to crumple. And surely it was a little late in the day for such unwelcome modesty?

Yet the veryfamiliarity of seeing her again was taking him into the unknown realms of fantasy. The past was a place he did not revisit. At least never before now. His restless and nomadic nature saw no point to it. For him there was not the comfort—nor the danger—of long-standing friendships. His destiny was to stand alone.

Then why are you breaking your own rules?taunted a small voice in his head.

He did not rise to greet her when she got to the table, and, interestingly, this small lack of courtesy wounded her. Could he not just have pretended—gone through the motions of normality?

‘Hello, Hashim,’ she said, as calmly as possible.

‘Sienna.’ Not a flicker of emotion crossed over the diamond-hard features. ‘Please sit down.’

‘Thank you.’ She glanced up at the waiter, who pulled her chair out, and then there was nowhere else to look other than into the enigmatic black eyes. Their dark light swept over her, and she felt a moment of sheer physical weakness until she remembered her vow of earlier. Professionalism. ‘So.’ She flicked him a quick smile. ‘Where shall we begin?’

‘So quick to do business?’ he murmured.

‘One should always strive for professionalism,’ she answered coolly.

‘Ironically, that is what Abdul-Aziz always says.’

Sienna remembered the aide who had seemed to so dislike her. ‘And is he here with you now?’

Hashim shook his head. Hot-headedly, he had blamed his aide for showing him the calendar, even though he had only been doing his job. But for a while the Sheikh had seen him as a bearer of bad tidings—and he was as superstitious as the next Qudamah man. So he had sent him home, and in a way the split had been necessary—for the older man had begun to see himself in a role which was not befitting a royal aide. He had begun to love the fatherless Hashim as a son. And Hashim had no need of extra love.

‘Abdul-Aziz was posted back to Qudamah,’ he said. ‘He is married now, with a son of his own.’

‘Married?’

‘Yes.’ And then, because this exchange seemed almost toocosy , too familiar, he allowed his eyes to drift over her face. ‘Aren’t you going to thank me for the calendar?’ he questioned deliberately.

She had wondered when he would get around to mentioning it, and she had practised her response until she had it word-perfect. ‘No, I’m not. And if you continue to talk about it then I will walk out of here right now.’

He gave a faint smile. ‘Then I guess we’d better get the ordering out of the way.’

She glanced down at the menu, which was like a blur though she knew it backwards. ‘I’d like the Dover Sole, please. Grilled, no sauce. With a side salad.’

‘The choice of a woman on a diet,’ he observed.

‘Not at all. A woman who is careful about what she eats, that’s all.’

‘Careful?’ His black eyes glittered. ‘How very curious. Not a word I would have associated with you.’

She leaned forward. Big mistake—for now she was in full range of his subtle, spicy scent, and it crept over her like sensual fingers. She sat right back again. ‘Why don’t we clear something up before we go any further? You don’t know me. Maybe you never did—but you certainly don’t now. So you aren’t qualified to make any judgments about me. Understand?’