Desert Sheikh vs American Princess (16 page)

He had appreciated the quiet of the last few days, until his brother had arrived. Walid had been able to accomplish many tasks without the interruption of Noelle's escape attempts, knowing she was safe and near. His meditation practice had benefited from the assurance that Noelle had relaxed into her vacation and was content to wait until her father sent the money he owed. The only intrusion into his thoughts had been a sense of doubt that no amount of meditation could assuage. He could identify the doubt easily, but not its cause. The emotion seemed connected to Noelle in some way, but not
how
.

He had not even needed to fold her into his arms at night to keep her from disturbing his rest, which was a relief. And a regret. Her back had fit precisely to his chest, her thighs locked to his own like puzzle pieces.

Over the past year, his sleeping patterns included several rounds of wakefulness each night, during which he would plan strategies for overcoming Askar's issues. So her attempt to disturb his rest that night had failed--he had already been awake and considering climbing the tower for a meditation session.

What whimsy had led him to her bed, he did not know. He had not recognized himself. But her presence had soothed him into the deepest sleep he had enjoyed since her father had failed to make his first loan payment.

Having her in his arms, in safety, had been like knowing Askar itself was secure, and had given him the peace to relax. Warm and soft and fitted to him as though there were no other place she would rather be. That night, her bed had been an oasis of calm and they had been at peace. Connected.

But she had been quiet lately. Had avoided him since the interview. An interview he had begun to see in a different light, thanks to his brother.

Thalatha had filled in the missing data for him. Noelle had not relaxed so much as sunk into depression. Not the quiet of peace, but the quiet of the grave.

He had never intended to cause her harm or distress. Had he done both?

He had always prided himself on his logic, on using his meditation practice to create a distance between his emotions and his reactions. He corralled his thoughts with care, as one might train a valuable stallion.

Now, he realized, tossing off his suit jacket, that he
missed
Noelle's rebellions, her attempts to escape. The devious plans of her devious mind. Having to constantly rise to her challenges. She certainly kept a man's life interesting.

A shuffling sound came from the room adjacent to his own. Had Noelle recovered from her depressed state? What would she do next? Perhaps some kind of distraction, such as an unharmful blaze designed to draw attention away from an escape attempt. Or another disguise. Or something he would never think of, born in the depths of her deceitful mind.

While his thoughts spun on the axis of Noelle, he realized every molecule in his body had clenched in pleasant anticipation.

A sensation suffused him, pouring into him. As clichéd as the feeling seemed, no other way to describe it existed. His whole self warmed to her. He
liked
her. In his mind, in his heart, and in his body, he liked Noelle Oldrich.

He had never liked any woman more. Her intelligence, beauty, bravery, and undeniable creativity.

He had looked into Thalatha's claims about her father's treatment of her, of his interference in her attempts at independence, and found ample evidence. While Thalatha suggested this meant Oldrich wouldn't pay the money he owed, Walid disagreed. If Oldrich wished to control his daughter's life, he would wish her back as soon as possible.

Perhaps in the next few days. It had to be soon. Time was quickly running out. Six days until the cause would be lost. Any longer and he would not be able to pay for the Askari sections of the pipeline. The project would collapse, possibly taking his newly re-forged relationship with his brother with it. Ithnan had taken pains to have the pipeline moved to benefit Askar as well as Zallaq. Askar defaulting on the agreement would be ungrateful at best, permanently damaging at the worst.

More could be destroyed than the Nahr pipeline. The peace between Askar and Zallaq could be at risk. Lives could be lost.

In the meantime, he mused, the best way to prevent Noelle from escaping was to end her desire to escape. She needed a distraction, a challenge. One that put her mind and her creativity to work while discouraging her from jumping out windows.

He had the perfect solution, in fact. One that would keep her mind occupied indefinitely. The perfect distraction for her and her pirate princess.

From a hidden drawer in his desk, he drew out a protective tube. Once, a great treasure had been stolen from his country. This had been left in its place, to distract invaders.

It could perform the same task again. This time with Noelle Oldrich.

*****

A knock on Noelle's door demanded entrance. Not the hallway door, the one that joined up her room to Walid's apartment.

As imposing as the knock was, at least he had knocked. Since her door didn't have a lock on this side, he really didn't
have
to. He could have just barged, looking like he was the master of all he surveyed. Because he sort of was. Master of everything but her, actually.

Well, let him come. She was ready for him this time.

She took a deep breath and drew a cloak of belligerence around herself before turning the brass knob.

He stood there, in his shirt sleeves for once. He still had on a tightly buttoned suit vest that clasped him from ribs to abs, but his sleeves were rolled up in a kind of casual elegance. Obedient black hairs emphasized the muscled curves of his forearms.

Yowza.
Her throat threatened to dry up... But no. She was going to be in control of this encounter. Time to take back her power.

She pouted with all the insouciance she could muster, which was a lot, and regarded him from under sleepy eyelids.

He blinked at her. Of course he blinked at her. There wasn't a hetero guy on earth who wouldn't blink at her in this outfit.

"Oh, hello, Walid." She said it lazily, as if she had no idea what had sponged all the words out of his head.

He snapped his fallen jaw back up. One of his eyes twitched. "What are you wearing?"

She showed him her back as she did a model's walk over to the comfiest chair in the room. She heard her stiletto heels click on the marble and smiled to think how the shoes had been named after an assassin's dagger. She was certainly using them as a weapon tonight.

When she thought he'd gotten a good look at her rear, barely covered by the scarlet satin panties, she whirled and flopped down into the chair.

"What are you wearing?" he said, and she almost felt sorry for him, the way his teeth gritted together. Looked painful.

"This old thing?"

He stuck one hand into the depths of his pocket. An attempt to look casual. "You will not seduce me this way."

She rested her chin on one hand. Bored. "I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last drink of water in the desert."

The quiet in the air between them became tight and heavy. Filled with
something
. She didn't know what it was, but she knew he controlled it all.

Walid took his time to sit on the couch opposite her, moving with a slowness that wasn't like his normal brisk style. The way he flicked the switch on the lamp next to him, throwing a pool of yellow light across the shadowed floor, made warmth creep up her neck.

When he was facing her, he stared her down. She couldn't look away. "Why not? I know you feel the attraction between us, as I do."

She flashed back on the kiss in the limo. She'd been ready to go at it then. He'd shoved her aside.

She could play the
slow
card, too. In pretend shock, she put her hand where her boobs met, spreading the fingers wide so he didn't miss anything. "Oh, Walid, I didn't know you felt that way. I'm sorry, I just don't return your feelings. Perhaps you'd better go."

He cocked his head to one side and she could feel him judging her. Not her body, her behavior. Bastard.

"I would believe you, if I did not know better." These words were spoken, not with anger, but as if he was intrigued, a naturalist talking into the camera about the interesting traits of an unknown species. "Why do your parents imagine you are not clever?"

What do you mean?
The words froze in her throat. She couldn't pretend that he wasn't right on the money. The way he was looking at her now, if she tried to lie, he'd know.

He saw through her. Dread filled her until it threatened to drip from her pores. She'd only had one weapon against him--sex. Now, was it gone?

But as he watched her struggle to answer, the gold in his eyes seemed like touches of compassion. He might have a policy against lying, but she knew her secrets would be safe with him.

The deep breath she took probably made her bosom heave in her bodice, but he kept his gaze on her face.

As much as she wanted to look away, she returned that gaze. "I'm pretty much a useless person, Walid. I'm a failure at everything. If I get involved in a business, it takes a belly flop into the crapper."

His expression tightened in confusion.

"They go under," she clarified. "I mean every business I've been involved in, or even tried to help, starts to fail when I sign up. I just don't have dad's skill at it. So I can't start a business or get involved with a company. Can't even get a job. And I am staying so far away from charities--except for donating, of course."

Walid leaned back. She hadn't been aware of him inching forward during her speech, soaking up every word. "Or perhaps someone has sabotaged you at every turn. Someone who should have encouraged and advised you."

Her mouth felt like it had filled with moisture-sucking baby powder. What he was saying... she'd thought those thoughts before. And rejected them. She knew exactly the
someone
he was suggesting. But you'd have to be a straight-up psycho to make sure your own kid failed constantly. No one would do that. No one.

Except, maybe, if you wanted to make sure nothing went wrong in your kid's life. One way to do that would be to make sure nothing went on in your kid's life
at all
.

"So that's not my imagination," she managed to eke out.

Walid nodded. "Before I brought your father here--"

"Before you kidnapped me, you mean," she put in, but the words didn't have their usual teeth.

He ignored the accusation. "I had a private investigator look into your father's background. I called her recently with some additional questions. She is a thorough kind of person, and already had the answers I sought at hand."

Walid outlined what she had suspected in the dark places of her heart, but never let herself believe.

He told her of her father's relentless campaign to end everything she started. After he'd yanked her out of college over nothing, her friend had asked her to help with the marketing for her online candy delivery service--only to have all the suppliers pull out at the last minute. Her father had met with every one of them.

The app another friend had been developing--the one that would help artists across the world connect and collaborate? The one she'd invested a ton of her allowance in? Someone had stolen the idea and developed it first. Turns out that developer had been funded by her father.

Walid kept talking, outlining her attempts at business one by one. The organic vegetable market whose funding fell through? Her father. The theater group who had been kicked out of their venue at the last minute? Her father. The dog-friendly coffee shop? Her father.

"Your investigator
is
very thorough," Noelle said though numb lips.

"Your father is the villain of your life," Walid said. "Why?"

There didn't seem any point in hiding things from the sheikh now. He knew it all anyway. "I wasn't what he wanted."

Walid made a noise of appreciation in his throat. "A son."

She shrugged. "Or a daughter."

"Noelle, you
are
a daughter."

"Not the right kind, though."
 

"Because of the pirate princess who lives in your head."

His word sliced through her numbness. Who'd told him--oh, of course. "Thale has a big mouth."

"Indeed."

She'd never told anyone the stuff she felt like telling him now. Her rich friends wouldn't have cared. And the friends she had who weren't rich? How could she possibly complain about everything she'd been given when they had to struggle? No way would she lay her stupid privileged rich people problems on them.

But Walid? He just might
get
it. "I was always falling out of trees as a kid. Getting into everything. Lighting things on fire. Having my own little adventures. I wanted to be a speedboat driver when I grew up."

She'd wanted nothing more than to burn up the waves in the fastest boat her dad could afford. It had been the closest thing to a pirate that she could think of.

"I see no harm in any of that, so long as the trees were not so tall," Walid suggested. "I wished to be a racecar driver."

She gave him the biggest smile she could muster. It wasn't very big. "I figured that out from the car collection, even if it isn't here right now. Anyway, Dad didn't seem to mind any of that. He even bought me a jetski."