His eyes darkened dangerously as he turned to her. "No," he said slowly, carefully. "Of course I do not."
"Could have fooled me." Fists clenched at her side, Faith shook her head, trying to comprehend his actions. It seemed to confirm her worst suspicions of him, and for some reason left her surprisingly disappointed. "You told her she had more than enough money when she barely has ten thousand dollars in her account."
"No Faith, that is not what I said to her. You were not listening carefully."
"I was right here, I heard what you told her." Her voice edged upward in anger. "You said—"
"I
said
that there was more than enough money to take care of any needs she or Alfred might have." His voice was deathly quiet, his eyes oddly intent on her, making her shiver.
Fury nearly had her shaking. "But you know darn well that was a lie. She hardly has enough money to get through a few months." Faith couldn't prevent the outrage in her voice. She couldn't believe he could be so casually careless about something so important to someone he cared about.
It wasn't just callous, it was cruel. And it infuriated her.
Her fists clenched at her side as she took another step closer. "Obviously Maureen Jourdan is someone you care a great deal about, and she obviously cares for you. Why and how could you lie to her?" Her simmering temper erupted into a full boil. "What kind of a man are you?"
Dark emotion swept over his face and he, too, stepped closer until they were nearly standing toe to toe.
Inches taller, he seemed to be looming over her with his powerful, dark presence.
Faith refused to back down, refused to take a step back, refused to allow him to get away with something so perfectly cruel, so inhumane, it brought tears to her eyes.
Perhaps because it hit too close to home and to her ever-fragile heart.
She knew from experience what it was like to have someone you loved, depended on, lie to you, tell you they would take care of you, tell you there was more than enough money for whatever your needs, and then find out that it was lies. All lies.
Devastation was a word that could barely cover the desperation such lies created.
Like her father, apparently Ali didn't consider the consequences of his behavior, or his lies on others.
"Be careful, Faith," Ali warned in a voice that made her shiver. Instinctively, Faith ran her hands up and down her chilled arms.
Tilting her chin to meet his gaze, her eyes blazed at him. "Why, because you don't like to hear the truth? Because someone knows exactly what you are?" It wasn't hard to recognize him; it was like looking at her father all over again.
"Be careful, Faith," he warned again in a slow, low voice that almost made her take a protective step back. But Faith refused to back down, refused to cower. She'd been forced to do it once in her life; she'd not ever allow another man's lies to reduce her to that again.
Ali took several slow, deep breaths in order to control the feelings swirling inside, ready to erupt. No one had ever
dared
speak to him in such a manner. Not ever. Nor had anyone ever accused him of such unspeakable behavior before, and he found that it caused a near volcanic eruption inside of him.
His father, in his ultimate wisdom, had taught him at an early age to control his temper, which could be a vicious thing if unleashed.
And right now the leash was straining.
"Son, a man who cannot control his temper can never be in control of himself, can never truly be a man."
He heard his father's words, but at the moment, they rang hollow and empty through his mind, his memory.
Looking at Faith, he realized what she thought of him, what she'd accused him of, and it angered him as nothing had in a long while.
He was a man who prided himself on his integrity and character. He had been taught that integrity, character and a man's name were the three most important assets a man could possess. Something no amount of money could buy, something to protect, treasure and value. He had worked hard his entire adult life to build and maintain all three.
He could not remember the last time someone had questioned his integrity. Especially a woman. No one would
dare.
No one but Faith.
It angered him, and yes, hurt just a bit because it mattered what she thought of him and he had no idea why.
"What kind of man do you think I am?" He parroted her question back to her, his voice filled with the emotion he was struggling to contain.
Faith merely blinked at him, trying not to respond to his closeness, his temper, his presence. In spite of her anger at him, he was a powerful man, and that blatant power radiated from him like sun off a sidewalk.
If she was a woman who could be intimidated, she'd be quaking in her shoes right now. A host of conflicting feelings battered her, but anger and disappointment ruled.
Ali nodded. "I see." He held up his hand as she opened her mouth to speak. "I believe your eyes tell me all I need to know." He hesitated, letting his gaze travel over her face, seeing the sadness, the tears in her eyes.
Though her words had been sharp, her face was pained. Something inside of him reacted instinctively.
She was angry, but she was also hurt. At the moment, she did not look strong and capable, but fragile and more than a little vulnerable. It tugged at something deep inside, making him want to comfort her, to ease whatever ache had put that pain in her eyes.
What had caused such despair in her, he wondered idly.
"I am sorry, Faith, that your opinion of me is so low." His words softened and his gaze stayed on hers. "It is most regrettable." He took a slow, deep breath. "But since you obviously have such a low opinion of me, perhaps you would prefer that I hire someone else to complete this job?"
Panic clutched her heart, sweeping away other emotions. She was counting on the funds this job would bring in, and cursed her tongue.
Mentally, she gave herself a shake. What Ali did and said to his friends and clients was none of her concern. If he wanted to lie until his nose grew so big he had to back into a room, that was his business. Not hers.
She was supposed to remain detached from him, and her own emotions.
But from the moment she'd laid eyes on him she knew he'd had an uncommon effect on her both physically and emotionally.
Who he was, what he represented to her had caused her to react emotionally in a way that was so unlike her.
The impact he had on her, the reaction he caused, the feelings and emotions he aroused on a totally different plane—on a man-to-woman level—terrified her in a way nothing had in a long, long time.
Perhaps that was why she had such a difficult time remaining detached.
She knew these things, and had hoped that she could simply ignore them and go about her business without letting them interfere.
She'd been wrong.
She'd promised herself she'd stay uninvolved and unemotional. She'd just broken her own rules, and now it might cost her this job.
"Are you firing me?" she asked carefully, cursing the small catch in her voice.
Consciously, she forced herself to take a deep breath and to relax, uncurling her fists. She was suddenly so tense, the muscles in her neck were cramped.
"I am not." His gaze never left hers. She could not read the emotion that darkened his eyes. "I am merely asking if perhaps you would prefer not to work for me because I am obviously so…repugnant to you."
Guilt washed over her like a steady rain, and Faith immediately felt contrite. "I'm sorry." With a weary sigh, she pushed a few strands of hair off her cheek, struggling for control. "I don't find you repugnant, Ali." Her voice was soft and she realized she spoke the truth. "And I apologize if I gave you that impression. It's really none of my concern how you run your business."
"True."
"It's just…" She paused, at a loss to explain her feelings.
"Sometimes, Faith," he said softly, unable to resist stroking a finger down her cheek, brushing aside a wayward strand of hair, "a lie is not necessarily a bad thing."
The impact of his words, words she'd heard so many times as a child had her insides trembling.
So he admitted he didn't think lying to someone he cared about was a bad thing. His words merely confirmed her worst fears about him.
Raw disappointment etched a place in her heart, right alongside the one her father had carved so many years ago.
It was none of her business, she reminded herself firmly. It was no concern of hers what he did or who he hurt or who he lied to. She needed this job, and she had no desire to anger him further.
"Well, if there's nothing else, I'd better get back to work." She wanted to get away from him, to forget the scene she just witnessed. To put him and his damning words and deeds out of her mind.
Realizing that he could say nothing further on the subject, Ali nodded in agreement. "Thank you for bringing me up to date. I will have Kadid make certain you have everything you need in order to get started first thing in the morning."
"Fine." She stepped around him, went to the table and gathered her notes, then walked toward the doors. She didn't look back at him, she couldn't. She didn't want him to see the tears she couldn't hold back any longer.
Three
"M
s. Faith, I apologize for disturbing you." Kadid stood in the doorway of the sprawling room that held the entire systems operations for El-Etra Investments.
The walls and floors were a rather utilitarian gray, computer towers, monitors and printers in various states of disarray dotted every square foot of desk space. The hum of machines filtered through the air.
"May I come in, please?" he asked politely.
Turning from the computer she was working on, Faith managed a smile at the tray he carried. There was a glass full of ice, several cans of cola and a sandwich. "Of course."
"I took the liberty of having the chef prepare a little something for you." He set the tray down on the desk next to her, nudging aside a keyboard she'd disconnected.
"Bless you." She eyed the tray greedily.
"If it is not to your liking, I will be happy to have him prepare something else."
"You have a chef here?" she asked, picking up one half of the delectable-looking sandwich and taking a bite. She nearly swooned. It was the first bit of food she'd had all day and it was way past the dinner hour.
"But of course," he said with a smile. "May I?" At her nod, he lifted the can of cola and began to pour it over the glass of ice for her. "Sheik El-Etra brought him with him when he came to America. He has been with the family for almost two generations." Kadid set the empty can down on the tray. "Sheik El-Etra is a very loyal man."
The respectful tone of his voice and his careful words gave her the impression he was trying to tell her something.
"Loyal, huh?" She chewed thoughtfully. That wasn't quite the word she'd have chosen for Ali after the scene they'd had yesterday afternoon. She leaned back against her chair, deciding to take a break. "Kadid, who is Mrs. Jourdan?"
He handed her the icy glass of cola, then clasped his hands together in front of him. "She is a very old and very dear friend of the sheik's. He is not only greatly fond of her, but enormously grateful to her."
Faith frowned. "Grateful?" This didn't make sense. "Why is Ali grateful to her?"
Kadid was thoughtful. "When the sheik first came to America, he was only sixteen years old. There was political unrest in our country, and as an only son and heir and a descendant of the royal family, there was of course enormous concern for his safety, so his father sent him to America."
"To live with the Coltons."
"Yes," Kadid said with a slow nod. "Although English is a required language for all school children, Ali's English was not…shall we say, perfect." His wrinkled face creased into a smile. "As you know, children, particularly children of that age, can be cruel to anyone who is not the same as they are." He shrugged his shoulders. "The sheik was a foreigner, of royal blood, and not used to the language, customs or ways of your beautiful country."
Intrigued, Faith reached for the other half of her sandwich. "Go on."
"It was a…difficult time. He was at a very vulnerable age, an age when a boy is struggling to become a man, to show his strength, to develop his pride, and it was most difficult to be the object of cruelty."
"People were cruel to Ali?"
Having been the butt of cruelty herself as a child, Faith had grown to abhor any hint of cruelty toward anyone.
Kadid nodded sadly. "Yes, I'm afraid so. The sheik has always kept his own counsel. As a member of the royal family, it is of course expected, accepted—"
"But you knew?"
His wrinkled face once again creased into a smile. "Yes. I have been with the sheik since his birth and perhaps know him as well as his father. It is the honor of my life."
"So where does Mrs. Jourdan come in?"
"Mr. Colton was aware of the difficulties the sheik was having. Mrs. Jourdan was a teacher at the private school where the sheik had been enrolled. Mr. Colton had heard that Mrs. Jourdan did private tutoring. She was a much-beloved, much-respected member of the community, as well as an excellent teacher, kind, loving, nurturing. With Ali's father's permission, Mr. Colton made arrangements to hire Mrs. Jourdan to help the sheik with the language, as well as with the difficult cultural adjustment he was having."
"Maureen Jourdan was his teacher?" Faith asked in some surprise.
"Ahhh, but not just his teacher. She was that, yes," he said with a slow nod and a sly smile, "but over the years, she became so much more to the young sheik. She became his mentor, his friend, and in his mother's absence, a substitute mother. She taught him not just the language, but how do you say…" He seemed to search for the right word. "The lingo of your country and the ways of your culture." He smiled again, revealing very white teeth. "The Big Apple." He covered his mouth to hide a chuckle. "We had heard this expression, of course, but we thought this was merely a large piece of fruit." He shook his head at his own foolishness and Faith thought about her trying to explain her
Wizard of Oz
reference to Ali yesterday. Now it made sense.