The Sheikh's Last Seduction

“As you wish. It will be arranged within the hour.”

“And since all our country is expecting a royal wedding at the end of the week...” She waved her arm, causing her diamond and platinum bangles to clink together loudly. “It would be a waste of money not to take advantage of the arrangements already in place, don’t you think?”

A dawning horror rose in Irene’s heart.

Sharif’s expression sharpened. “We cannot simply switch my sister’s wedding for ours, Kalila. Royal protocol must be followed.”

“You are emir. You set the protocol.” Kalila tilted her head. “Unless you have changed your mind. Surely you do not wish to disappoint our people, Sharif? Surely—” her voice took an edge “—you do not wish to insult my father?”

Brief hatred flared in his eyes, then died.

“No,” he said dully. “I do not.”

Irene grabbed his arm desperately. “Sharif,” she gasped, too stricken to realize she was calling him by his first name in front of everyone in the dining room, “Please. You cannot...”

He looked down at her.

“My bride is right,” he said coldly. “We no longer need you, Miss Taylor.”

“What?” Irene whispered, dropping her hand. He was staring at her as if she were a stranger. As if they hadn’t spent all these months together. As if, just a few hours before, he hadn’t nearly made love to her. As if she were nothing and no one.

She swallowed, blinking fast. She shook her head.

“But I can’t...” she choked out. I can’t leave you. Then she looked around the dining hall, at Kalila staring at her smugly, at Aziza with big eyes in her pale face, at the servants who were trying and failing to pretend they weren’t hearing every word.

Turning away from them, Irene looked at the handsome face of the man she loved.

“But I love you,” she whispered.

Sharif seemed to flinch, as if he’d taken a bullet to the heart. But his expression was granite as he looked at her.

“Thank you for your service,” he said, making the words meaningless and cold. “You will be paid the entire amount, as agreed.” When she did not move, his jaw hardened. He grabbed her wrist. “It is time for you to leave.”

Without another word, he physically pulled her from the cavernous dining hall. Once in the hallway, he dragged her hard along with him, speaking sharply in Arabic to his bodyguards as they passed. The bodyguards fell into place behind him, one of them speaking into his earpiece to someone else unseen. Irene looked at Sharif’s face. “What are you doing?”

He looked at her. “I’m sending you away. To the future you deserve.”

Irene wondered how she could have not known immediately, beneath the pretense of the playboy she’d first seen in Italy, exactly who he was. A good-hearted man. She should have loved him from the moment he’d first pursued her on the shores of Lake Como. Fighting back tears, she shook her head. “I won’t leave you.”

He looked away, tightening his grip on her arm, pulling her rapidly down the long hallways of the palace. “You must.”

“Not like this,” she choked out. “Not with her.”

Sharif stopped, his face grim. He signaled to his bodyguards, and they moved ahead without him. Once alone, he cupped her cheek, looking at her urgently.

“Kalila will be my wife. I’ve always known this. From the very day I met you, Irene, at the wedding of someone I barely knew, I was trying to accept my fate. I couldn’t then. But—” he took a deep breath “—I can now.”

“What?” she said, stricken.

He looked down. “Because of you,” he said in a low voice. “Because of what you taught me.”

“I never taught you to marry someone you hate, someone who is horrible like that—to make her the queen of your country—”

“You taught me how to believe again.” He looked up. “You taught me to love. For the rest of my life. As I will love you.”

Their eyes locked in the shadows.

Then a sob escaped her as she flung her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his chest, against his white robes. “I can’t leave you. I won’t. It’s too soon—”

Fervently, he kissed her forehead, her hair. “Better now than later. Before anything happens that we both—regret.”

Tears were running openly down her face. “I regret only that I didn’t let you make love to me every single day.” Looking up at him, she shook her head. “I should have let you kiss me, from the night we first met—”

“Shh.” He put his finger on her lips. “It is better this way. You’ll find someone who can make you happy. Who can give you what I never could.”