Commanded by the sheikh

‘Oh, Aziz,’ she said, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You know the worst part?’ he said in a low voice, unable to look at her now. ‘I still loved him. Why, God only knows. But I loved him and—’ He stopped, hating that he was telling her this. That he needed to tell her this. ‘I wanted him to love me. I did everything I could, every single thing, to try and make him love me.’ His voice choked and he swore, turning furiously away from her. ‘I even asked him once. I asked him, point-blank, why he didn’t love me.’ He shook his head, the memory twenty years old, yet still possessing the power to make him feel like that desperate, cringing boy. ‘Do you know what he said?’

‘No,’ Olivia said, her voice quiet and sad.

Aziz stared blindly out of the window. ‘He said, “why would I?”’ He let out a defeated, weary laugh. ‘I’ve never been able to answer that question.’

‘I can answer it, Aziz,’ Olivia whispered and he realised just how pathetic he must sound, whinging about how no one loved him.

‘Not another one of your pep talks, please,’ he said, trying to keep his voice light, to reassemble his armour. The Gentleman Playboy in full force. ‘It’s ancient history now anyway.’

‘It still matters.’

‘Well, yes, because it’s affected my choices now. That’s why you don’t need to worry that I’ll fall in love with you, Olivia.’ He forced himself to smile at her, as if this was actually reassurance he wanted to offer. ‘I’m not interested in wearing my heart on my sleeve ever again.’

‘I know you’re not,’ she said quietly. ‘But just because your father rejected you doesn’t mean other people will.’

‘Not a risk worth taking, in my opinion. And not in yours either, I thought.’ He spoke sharply, reminding himself as well as her just what the terms of their marriage were—and why.

Because you could never convince someone to love you, no matter what you did. Better not to try. Not then and not now.

Olivia drew her knees up to her chest, circling them with her slender arms. ‘And the Gentleman Playboy,’ she said after a moment. ‘Where did that come from?’

He tensed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘How did a little boy longing for love from his father became the playboy of Europe?’

He flinched at her assessment, hating how she’d put it into words. That was who he’d been, who he still was.

‘When I was fifteen, I discovered women.’ He raised his eyebrows, forced another teasing smile. ‘My father’s mistress, actually. She seduced me and at first I went along with it just to lash out at him. Then I realised I could please women, and focused on that rather than the impossible task of trying to please my father.’ He’d meant to sound light but it just came out bitter.

‘I see,’ she said quietly, and he knew she did. She saw far, far too much.

‘I don’t know why we’re talking about this.’

‘Because I want to know you. Understand you.’

‘Satisfied?’ he demanded, his voice ringing out, and she just looked at him. He saw pity on her face, in the dark eyes and turned-down mouth, and he hated it.

He swung away from her, stalking to the window, his hands curling around the sun-warmed stone as he stared out at the sky that had darkened to deep indigo.

‘So,’ he finally managed, and his voice sounded a little more like his usual self, the self he’d chosen to be. ‘You really felt better after that kind of confessional?’

She laughed softly, sadly. ‘Not right away. Mostly I felt shell-shocked and emotionally exhausted.’ He heard the whisper of sheets as she rose from the bed and came to stand behind him. She rested a hand on his shoulder. ‘But in time, Aziz, I hope you’ll feel better. Stronger. And I hope you’ll be glad you told me.’

He doubted it. Already he was regretting having revealed so much, shown so much weakness.

‘Aziz,’ she murmured, and slid her arms around his waist, drawing her gently back to him. His back collided with her bare softness, but in that moment he didn’t feel desire.

He felt something deeper, something more overwhelming; his throat tightened and his eyes stung. He reached for her hand, not even knowing what he felt, only that he didn’t want her to leave him then.

Or ever.

‘Aziz,’ Olivia said again softly, her arms still around him, her fingers threaded through his. ‘Aziz, I know you might not think you want to hear—’

A knock sounded on the door and Olivia fell silent. With a sad little sigh, she slipped away from him and reached for a robe.

Aziz turned, waiting until she’d belted it and was covered before saying in a clipped voice, ‘Come in.’

To his surprise, it was Malik. He didn’t look at Olivia, but kept his rather grim gaze trained on Aziz.

‘Aziz, we’ve received a message from Khalil. He wishes to speak with you.’

Stunned, for a few seconds, he could only stare. ‘Speak with me?’

‘He is in Siyad and can come here by helicopter in an hour.’

An hour. Aziz’s mind spun with this new revelation as well as everything that had just happened between him and Olivia.

‘You’ll speak to him?’ Malik confirmed, and he nodded.

‘Yes. Prepare one of the rooms downstairs for our meeting, please.’

Malik left and he turned to glance at Olivia; he saw she looked white-faced and apprehensive. He probably looked the same. He certainly felt it. He had no idea what Khalil wanted to say to him; he doubted his former half-brother was coming to renounce his claim. As for anything between him and Olivia...

‘What do you want me to do?’ Olivia asked, and he almost reached for her hand, almost asked her to stay with him, because he needed her. Needed both her strength and her sympathy, her understanding and compassion.

And he didn’t want to need her. Didn’t want to need anyone, to open himself up to that weakness.

And yet he knew it was already too late. He’d been trying to protect his heart and he’d failed. He loved her. He loved her so much it hurt.

He imagined asking Olivia if she loved him and having her say the same words his father had once said to him.

Why would I?

She’d phrase it more nicely, of course. She might even apologise. But she’d make it clear that she didn’t love him, couldn’t love him, and there was no way in hell he was ever going to let himself in for that kind of rejection and pain again.

‘Just wait here,’ he said and left the room.

CHAPTER TWELVE

AZIZ WALKED AWAY from Olivia, still reeling from everything he’d confessed and felt. And now Khalil was coming here. With that coming on the heels of his conversation with Olivia, he felt as if his nerve-endings had been scraped raw.

‘This could be a good thing,’ Malik said quietly, and Aziz shrugged.

‘Or he could be declaring his intentions.’ Khalil might demand he call the referendum. No matter that he’d fulfilled the terms of his father’s will; the people still supported Khalil, or at least most of them, and Khalil could argue that Aziz should let the people decide.

And maybe he should. Maybe clinging onto a title nobody wanted him to have was foolish. He’d never earned his father’s love; why did he think he could earn his country’s?

Yet Olivia believed he could. The memory strengthened his resolve. He wasn’t going to give it all away now.

Half an hour later, showered and dressed in a pair of dark trousers and a button-down shirt, Aziz prowled the elegant confines of one of the palace’s smaller receiving rooms. He could have stood on ceremony as ruling Sheikh and been seated on a throne of gold and silver but such petty tactics seemed both obvious and pathetic. He was above them, he hoped.

He hadn’t spoken or seen Olivia since Malik had entered the bedroom. He just thought of her, remembering how she’d drawn him against her, her arms around him, how good he’d felt...

He knew she’d been going to tell him something. Something he probably didn’t want to hear, because it would just make him love her more.

Aziz whirled around, stalked the length of the room. He loved her, but he was utterly afraid to tell her. If that made him a coward, then so be it. He couldn’t risk offering his heart again. Couldn’t bear to see the look on her face as she tried to let him down gently, reminded him of their awful arrangement...

It was better this way, he told himself. Better to face Khalil alone, to keep the feelings in. Eventually they would fade. He’d learn not to feel so much for her.

A thought which felt like an even worse agony.

In the distance he heard the hectic whirring of a helicopter’s blades and his gaze met Malik’s steady one.

‘Why don’t you meet him, Malik? I’ll wait here.’

The older man nodded and Aziz resumed pacing as he waited for the man he’d once thought was his half-brother to arrive.

Five seemingly endless minutes later, a knock sounded on the door. Aziz turned around, his heart thudding. ‘Enter.’

The door opened and Khalil stood there, Malik behind him.

Aziz stared at the man he had no blood relation to, yet whose life had been twined with his since birth. Khalil stood tall and proud, but without any anger in his eyes. Aziz had expected a rebellious firebrand, but Khalil seemed too calm and composed for that.