Exposed: The Sheikh's Mistress

‘Can you get someone else to honour your existing contracts and ignore all the others?’ he demanded.

‘And who is going to pay my mortgage in the meantime?’

There was a moment’s silence, and Hashim chose his words with fastidious care, knowing that he trod on very sensitive ground here. ‘That is simple. You must let me help you, Sienna.’

She froze. ‘What do you mean—help me?’

He could hear the bristly defensiveness which spiked her voice and, while he silently applauded her fierce pride, he knew that it would not and could not serve her well—not in circumstances such as these. ‘Just hear me out without interruption. That is all I ask of you. Please, Sienna, it is vital,’ he said softly. ‘If I took care of your mortgage for you—would that not free you up to get away for a while?’

‘I’m not letting you pay for me!’ Her voice lowered. ‘You must be able to see why I stand so firm on this issue.’

For a moment he had to control the instinctive lash of his tongue. Stubborn woman! Could she not see that he was only trying to help her?

Drawing on diplomatic reserves he had never had to call on before, he tried again. ‘Sienna,’ he said patiently. ‘I admire your independence and your spirit, but this is not some showering of expensive baubles on a mistress—this is me trying to help you get out of a bad situation which is mostly of my doing. To make some kind of amends. Will you not let me do that for you? Would not all that has grown between us be completely worthless if you will not allow me to behave as any true friend would towards another?’

There was silence. How appalled he would be if he knew that her thoughts were not of indignation that he was trying to buy her out of something but instead had fixed upon a word which resonated cruelly round and round in her head. Who would ever have thought that the acknowledgement that he was her friend could have unwittingly caused so much heartache?

‘Will you let me?’ he said.

What choice did she have? To brazen it out in London, aware of the eyes which followed her? The curious glances? Women looking down their noses at her and men looking…? Well, she didn’t even want to go there.

‘In a few weeks all the fuss will have died down,’ he continued smoothly. ‘The news will have moved on. That’s what happens.’

And, stupidly, that upset her even more—for once it had died down it really would be over. And wasn’t there a part of her—ever while loathing all this fuss and attention—that was secretly glad because it had brought Hashim back into her life when she’d thought that he had gone for good?

‘All right. I’ll go to my mother’s,’ she said.

At the other end of the phone, Hashim closed his eyes with relief. Outside his private study the court was in uproar, and Abdul-Aziz was prowling round the palace like a starving tom-cat, but Hashim didn’t care. She was safe. She would be safe—he had the resources to protect her.

‘I will have a car sent immediately,’ he said, glad now that he could rely on action, for this was something he always felt comfortable with. ‘And bodyguards will be placed at the entrance to your mother’s home.’

She opened her mouth to say that he didn’t even know where her mother lived, but then shut it again. Of course he did. He knew everything—and if he didn’t he could get someone to find out for him. Hashim could get anything he pleased.

‘Thank you, Hashim,’ she said.

‘Don’t thank me,’ he said fiercely. ‘Just stay strong. Can you do that?’ He nearly said for me—except that in the circumstances he knew he had no right to ask.

She allowed herself to picture him, and knew she would not crumble. ‘As an ox,’ she said huskily.

Hashim closed his eyes. ‘Or an eagle,’ he whispered.

‘Goodbye,’ she whispered back, and put the phone down before she began to cry. Because although the structure of her life had been torn apart it didn’t even register on the pain-scale.

Nothing touched her and nothing could—other than the heartbreak of not being with the man she loved.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘DARLING, calm down, sit down, and drink that cup of tea before it gets cold!’

Sienna sniffed and smiled, and took a sip of the fragrant Earl Grey. How some things never changed!

‘That’s better,’ said her mother approvingly, brushing some mud from the leg of her jodhpurs and dunking a digestive biscuit into her own tea.

‘Mum, I’m so sorry—’

‘Oh, fiddlesticks!’ said her mother cheerfully. ‘It’s done my reputation no end of good locally—I’ll never be asked to judge the prize cauliflower section at the village show again!’ She sighed. ‘I was getting rather bored with it, if the truth were known.’