Reclaimed by the Powerful Sheikh

‘It all still hurts, Danyl.’

‘I—’

‘Don’t.’

She was closing him down. Just as she had done when she pushed him away before. When she pushed him out of her life. This time, he’d let her. This time when she did, he was going to make sure it was for the last bloody time.

As if sensing his own thoughts, she attempted to explain.

‘It’s just...there’s too much work on the farm. Pops isn’t as young as he used to be, but he won’t let anyone other than me help with the running of it.’

‘If your father needs as much help as you say he does, then I can find someone who’ll be able to help. But I don’t think that it’s your father who has the problem.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, her voice laden with more than a little warning.

‘Look, you trained for eighteen months, won three races, came back and stuck your neck in the proverbial sand. Is it possibly not just your father that’s refusing help? One million dollars. I can have that in your account by this afternoon.’

‘Money,’ she practically growled. ‘That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?’ she demanded.

‘No, it’s not payment. It’s a charitable investment.’ He ignored the sarcastic huff of her laughter, and pressed on. ‘As for the gala, I’ll pay for all related costs, travel, clothing.’

‘Don’t be facetious.’

‘I’m not,’ he said, finally allowing through some of the tiredness and exhaustion that had been dogging him ever since the moment she’d approached the Winners’ Circle eighteen months ago. ‘As much as I hate to say this, it’s not about you and me. It’s for my mother. The gala’s guests are some of the most famous, influential figures from around the world. And it’s important that you look the part. So I will invest in your father’s business, provide money that will keep you going for at least the next five years, I will get you on that private jet, and clothe you in whatever you need because that is what will make my parents’ last event perfect. That is what will make them happy.’

He watched her quick mind make the calculations. About what she and her father could do with one million dollars. He could see, then, that he had her. Despite the pain, or in fact because of it. He could tell that Mason was hurt and confused, but that she simply couldn’t refuse what he was offering her. And if that made him feel like a bastard, so be it. He needed this gala event to be perfect for his parents. Their last official act as rulers of Ter’harn.

‘So, would you come with me?’ he asked.

Mason nodded, her head lowered into her chest as if in defeat. And finally he felt relief. Because, once she’d come to the gala, she could leave and, aside from numbers on a banking balance sheet, she’d be out of his life for ever.

CHAPTER FOUR

February, ten years ago

‘WOULD YOU COME with me?’ Danyl asked.

‘Where?’ Mason replied.

‘Back to my apartment,’ he said, and she thought for a second that she heard a hint of nerves unusual in the amusingly autocratic royal.

This was it, she thought. The ‘third date’. Over the last month they had explored Manhattan, every tourist attraction they could find, some of the most incredible out-of-the way restaurants, and tonight the opera. She’d been stunned by the opulence, but more so the music. She’d heard bits and pieces over the years, but to be there, to feel the air vibrate with the passion and power of the singers, it had been incredible. It had been a magical evening, and no, she didn’

t want it to end.

Danyl held his hand out to hers, the smile on his face one of excitement and perhaps promise. She couldn’t help but return it, her lips curving upwards shyly, and she took his fingers in hers. He led her further down the block towards his apartment, rather than the car that had, on previous occasions, taken her back to the training facility where she shared a room with Francesca. She wondered what her friend would say, and then realised that Francesca probably wouldn’t notice, being so consumed with her current homme du jour, as she liked to call them.

Somehow in this last month, Danyl had become an integral part of her life outside of training. Every spare minute she had, he was there. And when he wasn’t? He would text or call, wondering what she was doing, what she was thinking. Mason had never experienced anything like it. As the only daughter to Joe McAulty, she had been treated with a distant reverence by the guys on the farm—none willing to incur her father’s wrath or lose their job with anything more familiar. And with all the things to do on the farm she’d not had a huge amount of free time to explore life outside the estate.

With Francesca spending more and more time away from the training facility, Danyl had easily filled the gap. And she was glad. Because...she loved spending time with him. Listening to him, peppering him with questions about Ter’harn, his studies...anything she could think of to hear him speak in deliciously accented tones that ran shivers across her skin.

With her hand in his, and the other picking up the pretty skirts of the only dress she owned, Mason stepped into the foyer of Danyl’s apartment block. Instinctively she wanted to wrap the thick woollen coat around her, to hide from the open perusal of the concierge, but Danyl simply led her determinedly to a lift slightly to the left from the main bank.

As they waited, she realised that Michaels, Danyl’s personal guard, had hung back out of the way. Catching his discreet retreat, she called out to him, fishing in her pocket for the small bottle of lozenges she had promised him.

‘Michaels, catch!’ She threw the bottle across the short distance and he caught it one-handed, raising a smile through her nerves.

The lift doors opened and Danyl stepped in, bringing her with him.