Bella and the Merciless Sheikh

He was a complete contrast to the men she usually met—a lethal combination of untamed man and raw sexuality. A real man, she thought to herself, distracted by the dark shadow that emphasised the strong lines of his jaw. It was hard to imagine him sitting at a desk in a tall city office, but she had no problem imagining him wrestling a wild animal with his bare hands. embarrassed to admit that she found him astonishingly attractive, Bella put her hands over her eyes and gave a groan. She was the ultimate modern city girl and here she was lusting over macho man.

The heat must have finally got to her.

‘I’m surprised you find your situation amusing.’ His gaze held hers. ‘You’re lost and you have absolutely no idea where you are.’

‘I’m not lost. I’m with you.’

‘And that gives you no cause for alarm?’ His cool voice held a dangerous edge. ‘I could be a greater threat to your safety than being lost in the desert. There is no one else near you. No one to rescue you. No one to hear you scream.’

Bella burst out laughing. ‘You sound as though you’re doing a voice-over for a horror movie.’

‘I am merely pointing out that a healthy dose of caution might increase your life expectancy.’

‘I’ve lived in London and New York. I’m street wise.’

His smile was slow and deadly. ‘You are not in London or New York now. You are in the middle of the Arabian Desert with a man you don’t know. And outside this tent there are poisonous snakes, scorpions and enough sand to swallow you whole and never again reveal your body.’

His words made her shiver and Bella rubbed her hands over her arms, growing more alarmed by the minute. ‘Stop trying to scare me. Do you want a hysterical woman in your tent?’

‘I don’t want a woman in my tent at all.’

‘Oh—’ Bella relaxed slightly. ‘I get it. You’re gay.’

Incredulity flared in his dark eyes. ‘I am not gay. But nor did I seek company on this trip. I value solitude.’

‘Really?’ For a moment she was fascinated. ‘You mean you actually want to be on your own?’

‘Time for reflection is a gift.’

Bella pulled a face. ‘In my opinion, reflection is an overrated pastime. I prefer being around people.’

‘So what were you doing in the Retreat?’

‘I was sent there.’

‘By…?’

‘Look, do we have to talk about this? The place was bad enough when I was there, without having to think about it afterwards. My brain is tired of examining itself. I’m allergic to meditation. Life is difficult enough without reflecting on it.’ Bella watched as he poured himself a glass of water. Every movement he made was assured and confident, and although he was quite staggeringly good-looking, he was far too serious for her.

And now he was looking at her with the same expression of grim disapproval that her father used whenever she saw him.

Bella closed her eyes, the throb in her head worsening by the minute.

She heard him step towards her. ‘How bad is that headache?’

‘Headache? What headache? I don’t have a headache.’ She would rather have died than admit weakness to this stony-faced, austere sex god. ‘I’ve never felt better in my life.’

‘You’re dehydrated. Drink more water.’

Bella contemplated ignoring his advice but the pain tearing through her head was growing worse so she reached for the cup that he’d placed on the floor by the bed. ‘How come you have so much water with you?’

‘I came prepared. Unlike you. I’m not accustomed to having to repeat a question—who sent you to the Retreat?’