Bella and the Merciless Sheikh

‘My father sent me away to think about my life.’

‘A task at which you were clearly a spectacular failure.’

Feeling attacked, Bella drew her knees up to her chest. ‘Absolutely. I’m pretty much a disaster at everything I touch. But that’s what everyone expects and I hate to disappoint them.’ Her flippant tone concealed oceans of agony and suddenly she was afraid she wasn’t going to hold it together in front of him. She needed to drive him away. ‘Look, this thing between us—it was just a fling. We both knew it wasn’t anything else. You’re not my type.’

‘And you’re certainly not mine.’

She gave a half-smile. ‘Finally we agree on something. So let’s just move on with our lives, Your Highness.’

There was a long, protracted silence. ‘I expected to find you on your laptop. You were desperate to be taken back to civilisation. You used every trick up your sleeve to persuade me to bring you to Al-Rafid.’

At the beginning. Bella had to bite her lip to stop herself from reminding him that by the end she’d used every trick she knew to persuade him not to bring her back.

How did she tell him that she felt utterly defeated? That nothing that had happened in her life so far had felt a fraction as painful as the fact that he was sending her away.

‘Look at me, Kate!’ He muttered under his breath and jabbed his fingers through his hair. ‘I mean, Bella.’

Something in his tone made her turn her head and, in that single painful look, they shared something so honest that the feeling drove the breath from her lungs. The seconds stretched into a minute and still the tension pulsated between them until Bella lost her grip on control.

‘Zafiq—’

‘No.’ He snarled the word like an animal in pain and stepped away from her as if she were infectious. ‘That is not possible.’

Bella felt as though someone had crushed her heart with a brick. ‘Right. No. Of course it isn’t. Silly me.’ The pain in her throat was almost intolerable and she swallowed hard, trying to dispel the lump as he strode towards the door.

‘There is a flight to England tomorrow afternoon. You’re booked on it.’

Bella’s heart dropped and she felt a sudden rush of panic. It suddenly dawned on her that he actually was sending her home. ‘No!’ For a moment she forgot to be cool or dismissive. She forgot to pretend she didn’t care what was happening. She forgot everything except the fact that he was sending her back to England.

And suddenly she realised how calm and relaxed she’d felt in the desert with Zafiq. She’d discovered a side of herself she hadn’t known existed. And now he was sending her back to her old life. There would be mirrors and bottles of conditioner, make-up and the whole of her wardrobe. Even without her allowance, she knew she could earn money. A single magazine shoot would make her enough money to survive for several months.

She’d be back to being Bad Bella Balfour.

And the paparazzi would hound her. It didn’t matter what she did, everyone would think the worst of her because that’s what they always did.

And the thought sickened her.

She didn’t want to use her family name to make money.

She didn’t want to use her family name at all.

‘Whatever we shared is over.’ Zafiq spoke with a brutal frankness that cut like the lash of a whip but Bella was past caring about pride and dignity.

‘Don’t send me back!’ She jumped off the window seat and sprinted across to him, grabbing his arm with her fingers.

He shook her off, his eyes cold. ‘We had sex, Bella. Nothing more. And don’t pretend you’re a stranger to that type of relationship.’