The Oil Tycoon and Her Sexy Sheikh (11 page)

“Will you do one more thing for me, Livvy?”

She eyed him cautiously. “What’s that?”

“My father would like to talk to you.”

“And what your father wants, he gets.”

He looked at her in some surprise. “He is the emir. It doesn’t make him a bad person.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I just don’t know what he wants to talk to me about.”

“There is only one way to find out.” His mouth creased into a tiny smile. She knew she was being unreasonable.

She let him lead her back into the grand stateroom through the arched entrance and to the emir’s raised chair. She was surprised when the emir immediately dismissed his son with a cursory wave and invited her to take the chair at his side. She had supposed that Khaled would remain with them for the courtesy conversation.

“How do you like my country, Ms. McInnes?”

“Very much indeed, Your Highness.” Small talk she could manage.

“It is different from your England.”

Olivia smiled politely. “I am Scottish, Your Highness. But yes, it is very different.”

The emir’s eyes narrowed. “Scottish? Then you are not an Englishwoman?”

“No,” she agreed, wondering why it should matter.

“Ah, I see.” The emir’s eyes alighted on his son. “I see it now. He is a good man.”

“I know that, sir.”

“Too good for his own good sometimes.”

“I think…”

“Yes, child? What do you think about my son?”

“I think he will never choose the easy path in life.”

The emir nodded and sighed. “You are wise, Ms. McInnes. Tell me, which would you choose: to be happy or to be good?”

A few yards away, Khaled was talking to a pretty Saqati woman with dimples in her cheeks and dark hair that tumbled over her shoulders. Good, wide, childbearing hips too, Olivia observed with some malice.

“I would choose to be happy, sir.”

“And I would choose to be both, but I am old and wise enough to settle for somewhere in between. I hope you will be very happy, my dear. Very happy indeed.”

It didn’t seem at all likely, not while Khaled was choosing from a whole nation of women that didn’t include her. She took another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. If she had to watch him flirt with someone else, she didn’t have to be sober while she did it.

“May I have this dance?”

The party was over and the guests were departing. The room had gone quiet, with only the muted sound of the caterers tidying up and the musicians packing away. He took Olivia’s glass and set it down on a table, then led her into the middle of the empty floor. She leaned into his body, and together they swayed to an imagined melody.

“You were watching me earlier,” she murmured.

“You were thinking about me,” he countered.

She didn’t attempt to deny it.

“Lovely Livvy,” he whispered. “So lovely.” His father had agreed to the plan for an oil company owned and operated by Saqat. Tomorrow he would put his proposals to the rest of the council, and then he would call Sadiah Saoud. If anyone could tell him what the people were thinking, Sadiah could. He’d heard some rumors and he was beginning to hope, but he wasn’t sure enough. He needed to be certain of everything before he asked the woman he loved to sacrifice her dreams and ambitions for him. So, tonight, he just held her, swayed with her, loved her.

“Are you drunk?”

“Haven’t had a drop. Not the done thing at these events.”

“But…” She waved in the direction of the bar.

“Alcohol for guests, especially Westerners. Not for Muslim princes.” He didn’t need it. Not when Olivia was in his arms and they were dancing. “Are you tired?”

She shook her head.

“Good. Go to bed.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Khaled touched her cheek. “I’ll join you in a few minutes, sweetheart.”

“Khaled…”

“It doesn’t have to be over, Livvy.”

“No further contact, you said.”

“No,” he smiled. “That’s what
you
said.”

“That’s what I said.”

“You’re drunk, Olivia. Aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

Damn, she was. “I think you are.”

“Are you?”

“No. I already said that.”

“Can’t be drunk. I didn’t have that much.”

“It’s the heat, I expect. It can make the effects much worse. Shall I take you upstairs?”

“To bed?”

“To your bed.”

She shook her head. “To your bed.”

Not a chance. Not while she was drunk. “Not tonight.”

She poked him in the chest. “Not supposed to be at all.”

“We’ll see. Here, hold on.”

He hoisted her up into his arms so that her face was close to his. She beamed at him. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“Are you carrying me?”

“Yes.”

“Over the thresh… the thesh.. the hold?”

“No. Just up to bed.” He shifted her position as he began to climb the stairs.

“Because you mustn’t carry me over the… that thing. The hold.”

“I won’t.” It wasn’t a Saqati custom to carry a bride over the threshold of the new marital home. Perhaps he would be able to set a new trend with his foreign bride.

“Nor her. The other girl.”

“Aliya.”

“S’right. Not marrying her either. You said so.”

“I did. And I’m not.”

She leaned in close to whisper, loud enough that the cleaners could probably hear her downstairs. “She was pretty.”

“Yes, she was.”

“Prettier than me?”

“No.” They had reached the door to Olivia’s guest suite. “Can you stand up if I put you down?”

She tilted her head and looked down at the floor dubiously. “Don’t think so.”

“Fine.”

He shouldered the door open and flicked the light switch. He couldn’t just dump her on the bed and leave. He ought to call Jemimah to help her, or one of the maids. He oughtn’t to be slipping her shoes off. He really oughtn’t to be rolling her silky lace stockings down.

He stood up and backed away from the bed into a much safer area of the room. “Do you need anything? Glass of water? Painkillers?”

She beamed at him. “I’ve drunk enough, silly.”

Khaled shook his head at her. “You’d better go to sleep. I’ll send someone with headache tablets in the morning.”

She pouted. “Can’t sleep in my dress. Wrinkles.”

She was killing him. If it were anyone but Olivia, he would have suspected her of doing it deliberately. But Livvy didn’t play games. He’d put money on her not getting drunk all that often either.

“Turn over,” he said. He found the zipper and undid it swiftly. The soft fabric fell away easily. Khaled slipped her arms out of the sleeves and tugged at the skirts. No bra. Barely there black lace panties. Why had she chosen tonight, of all nights, to break out the sexy lingerie?

He didn’t look. He wasn’t looking. He pulled the duvet over her as fast as he could manage.

“There. Will you go to sleep now?”

She rolled over onto her back and squinted at him. “Aren’t you coming to bed?”

God help him. “No. Not tonight.”

She slumped back against the pillows. “Spoilsport.”

“I know. Sleep, Livvy. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Don’t want to talk.”

“Okay. We won’t talk tomorrow.”

“Sit here.” She patted the bed.

He took a deep breath. She would tempt a saint. “Fine. I’ll sit on the bed, so long as you promise me to close your eyes and try to sleep.”

“Not tired.”

“Try.”

“Kiss me goodnight and I’ll try.”

“Do you always flirt like this when you’re drunk?”

She grinned. “I don’t get drunk.”

“Never?”

“Getting drunk makes you lose your hibshuns.”

“Inhibitions.”

“That’s right. So I don’t do it.”

“I think that’s probably very sensible. And a great relief to me.”

He leaned forward to kiss her lips. “Goodnight, Livvy.”

“I love you, Khaled.”

She closed her eyes and her breathing soon settled into the deep rhythm of sleep. She loved him. Tomorrow there would be wrangling with the council and negotiations over settlements and contracts. He prayed he could find a way to make it all come right for them both.

Tonight it was enough to know that she loved him and he loved her.

Chapter Ten

Someone was playing a drum kit. Badly. Inside her head.

God, she needed to make it stop. She rubbed her hands into her eyes and forced herself to open them. Daylight made it worse. Damn, damn, damn.

She grabbed a pillow and pulled it over her head. That was worse, too.

It was no good. Her bladder was sending urgent signals. She was going to have to find a way of getting to the bathroom. Crawling seemed like an excellent choice.

Olivia swung her legs over the side of the bed and levered herself upright. Blood rushed to her head and she sat down again promptly. Slower this time, she decided, and tried again. That was better. Still bad, but manageable.

She tottered toward the bathroom and managed not to fall over, even when she stubbed her toe on the bedside table. Stupid place for a table, anyway.

After she splashed some water on her face and cleaned her teeth, she felt a little more human. God, how much had she drunk last night? And more to the point, had she totally embarrassed herself by getting drunk at a Saqati state reception? At least she was flying home today. She never had to see anyone here ever again.

Not even Khaled.

Especially not Khaled. Damn Khaled. He’d told her he wasn’t marrying Aliya and practically in the next breath he’d announced that he had already chosen the woman who would become his wife. Well, she wouldn’t be hanging around to get in the way of the future Mrs. Khaled Saqat. She wouldn’t even be having important business meetings with him where she could indulge her hopeless passion for ogling his forearms.

Oh, God. She groaned.

She’d danced with him.

She had no idea what she had said, but almost certainly she’d said more than she should have. There was a reason why she didn’t get drunk. She always said things that were much, much better left unsaid.

Someone had put a glass of water by the bed, together with a blister pack of headache tablets. Olivia popped out two pills and swallowed them. She sipped at the water and wondered what hideous faux pas she had committed.

Her orange dress was hanging over the back of her armchair. Had she put it there? She couldn’t remember coming upstairs. She was naked apart from the very lacy, and very sexy underwear she’d bought on a whim. Clearly she hadn’t been awake enough to find her pajamas.

Khaled. He’d been there. He’d taken off her stockings.

She grimaced.

Khaled had put her to bed, drunk.

Too drunk to sleep with him, which was something, she supposed. That would have been a worse mistake, all things considered.

Her entire trip had been a failure. She’d failed to win the contract for MCI Oil; she’d failed to prove herself to her father. Most of all, she’d failed to make Khaled love her enough to overthrow his stupid, stubborn notions of duty. The only thing she’d managed to do was to fall in love with a man who was never going to let himself have her.

She climbed back into bed, sank into her soft pillows, and closed her eyes tight shut. She was not going to cry. Not now. Not until she had said good-bye and was safely on the plane taking her out of Saqat and away from Khaled. If his duty demanded that he let her go, then she would not make it any more difficult by clinging and begging to stay. She took several deep breaths and tried to think calming thoughts.

The telephone startled her.

“Hello?”

“Olivia.” The gruff Scottish accent was unmistakable.

“Hello, Father.”

“I’ve just had a letter from Sheikh Khaled. Faxed through.” That was typical. Straight to business without a single enquiry about her wellbeing. “He’s not going to sign the contract with us.”

“I know.”

“Well, I’m sorry for it.” He didn’t sound at all sorry. “I shouldn’t have left you to handle the negotiations on your own. And while we’re talking about it, I’ve asked Charlie Munro to take over as CEO when I resign. I’ll stay on the board, of course.”

“Of course,” Olivia murmured.

“It’s better for everyone this way. You should take some time off. Have a holiday. Learn watercolor painting. Whatever you’d like to do.”

She bit her lip hard. This was not the moment to scream at her father and tell him what she really wanted to say. What she’d always wanted to say.

“Perhaps you’ll meet a nice man. It’s not good for you to spend all your time in the office, you know. You should settle down.”

“Right. Actually, I’ve met a nice man already.” A tear she hadn’t managed to suppress escaped and rolled down her cheek.

“There you are, you see. Now you can stop worrying about the business and spend some time with him.”

“I don’t think so. It’s a bit complicated.” She didn’t try to explain. “I’ll be back this evening, Dad.”

“Good. It’ll be nice to have you home, Olivia.”

She hung up and blinked back more tears. She definitely wasn’t getting drunk again if it meant she spent the next day wallowing in her own self-pity. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried this much.

Coffee. That’s what she needed, and maybe something to eat. Then she needed to pack, to say a formal farewell to Khaled, and a more cordial one to Jemimah and Jamil. One of them would arrange a car for her to the airport and then she would be free.

Olivia dragged her suitcase out and opened the wardrobe. She dumped a pile of business suits in dark, plain colors into the bottom of the case. If she wasn’t welcome at the office anymore, why bother taking care of those? She stuffed in her underwear any old how. The red bikini top that had worked so well for her out on Khaled’s yacht hung out over the edge. She pulled it out and packed it properly. Maybe there should be more bikinis in her future. More yachts, too. And definitely more kisses.

She drew in a breath at that thought. Maybe no kisses just yet. What would be the point of kissing another man while she was still in love with Khaled? Even if he was busily choosing Mrs. Damn Bastard Bloody Khaled Saqat.

…

“Thank you for all your help. It’s been a pleasure to meet you both.”

She had tracked Jemimah down to Jamil’s office to say good-bye in person.

“I hope we shall see you here again,” Jamil said politely.

“Yes,” Jemimah said beaming. “I’m sure we will.”

Olivia shook her head. “Now that Sheikh Khaled has decided not to do business with my company, there’s no reason for me to visit Saqat again.”

“No, of course not,” Jemimah said, with a wink.

“Tell her the other thing,” Jamil said.

“I almost forgot. Here.” Jemimah produced a slightly crumpled envelope addressed to Olivia in childish handwriting.

“What it is?”

“Sadiah passed it on to me.”

It was a thank-you letter from the teenager who had won Olivia’s computer. In painstaking English, she promised to make the most of her prize and to do something that would make Olivia proud.

She put the note carefully in her bag so that she could write to the young girl when she was back home. At least she had done one good thing for someone in Saqat.

“May I see the sheikh?” she asked Jamil. “My flight leaves in a couple of hours and I want to say good-bye.”

“I am afraid he has been in a meeting with the council since eight o’clock this morning, and I do not know when they will be finished.”

“Can you let him know that I’m going? He might want to see me.”

Jamil shook his head apologetically. “Regretfully, the council cannot be disturbed, Ms. McInnes.”

He was in a meeting? He knew she was leaving this morning and he hadn’t made the time to say good-bye. Damn Bastard Bloody Khaled Saqat. That was starting to sound rather good.

“In that case, can you arrange a car to take me to the airport, Jamil? I’ve done everything I need to here.”

She told the driver to take her the long way round. If this was going to be her last visit to Saqat, she wanted to make the most of it. They paused near the beach for Olivia to get out and run down to the water’s edge. She stood with her feet in the cool water for several minutes, imprinting the scene on her mind, relieved that whatever happened, her company would not be the one to spoil this little bit of paradise with an ugly oil rig.

There was time to stop briefly at the radio station, where Sadiah warmly embraced her. They exchanged email addresses so they could keep in touch, and Olivia promised to write to the girl who had won the laptop.

When she was back in the limo, the car turned toward the outskirts of the city and the airport. The executive lounge had a good selection of English newspapers, but Olivia found that the business pages no longer held any interest for her. Instead, she wandered through the glamorous selection of shops that she normally ignored.

She sprayed perfume on her wrists, which made her slightly nauseous. The wildly expensive chocolate truffles had a similar effect. Her system was demanding a detox, and apparently chocolate and roses weren’t on the menu. Her attention turned to a lingerie boutique that had a ridiculous concoction of silk and lace in the window. It looked extremely uncomfortable and it would surely show through any normal clothes.

Olivia studied it for a few moments. Perhaps she should switch all her functional underwear for something more alluring, like the lacy set she’d worn last night. Khaled had never objected to her plain bras or panties. He wasn’t nearly so interested in them as in the body underneath. He’d seduced her in her kilt! Well, he’d seduced her
out
of it, she thought, with a little smile at the memory.

The lingerie was frivolous, but the shop also had a selection of swimwear, which was much more interesting. She selected half a dozen new bikinis in bright, cheerful colors. She had no real idea what she was going to do once she returned to Aberdeen, but if she wasn’t going to wear her suits any more, she might as well wear outrageously expensive bikinis. Not in Scotland, obviously.

She’d need to go somewhere warm where she could show them off. Somewhere a long way from the Persian Gulf. Somewhere that men married women when they loved them and didn’t get all hung up on stupid ideas of duty. Somewhere that women married the men they loved, instead of sacrificing everything for the sake of their principles. If only Khaled weren’t that sort of man. If only she weren’t that sort of woman.

Buying a few bikinis wasn’t enough to satisfy the mood she was in. She needed to do something new. Something outrageous. Something Khaled would never approve of. A tattoo and piercing parlor caught her eye. Just the thing.

It would go brilliantly with the new bikinis.

…

Khaled looked around the room. His father sat at the end of the table, but he had remained quiet, allowing his son to outline his plans. The councillors could not be rushed. Khaled was acutely aware of the urgency increasing with every second.

“Gentlemen, are we agreed?”

A few of the ministers began to shuffle their papers again, and Khaled had to bite back the urge to shout at them. Instead, he caught his father’s eye in a desperate plea for help.

The emir smiled slightly and nodded. He rose shakily to his feet, and the room fell silent.

“There will be details to be discussed at a later date, but the plan is sound. Well done, my son.”

Khaled let out a long breath. Somehow, he had done it. He had found the way through the impossible conundrum. Now he just had to fit the final piece into the puzzle.

“In that case, please excuse me. I have somewhere I need to be. Immediately.”

He didn’t quite run from the council room, but once out of it, he leaped down the golden staircase three steps at a time, and hurtled into the car that he had waiting for him in the main courtyard.

“To the airport,” he said to his driver. “As fast as you can. Break every speed limit.”

The chauffeur stared at the sheikh for half a second, then remembered his duty. “Yes, sir!”

Khaled kept looking at his watch, willing the seconds to slow down and the car to speed up. He had hoped that by calling the council early he would have secured their agreement in time to talk to Olivia before she left the palace. His stomach twisted at the thought she had left without even saying good-bye. She must think he was a total bastard not to have escorted her to the airport this morning.

He had to get to her now. He needed to explain, to tell her everything. She needed to know what the council had agreed, what he had to offer her, but more than that, she needed to know what was in his heart and what he hoped would be possible. He needed to see her before she left for good.

Before it really was too late.

The car pulled to a screeching halt outside the departure terminal, but Khaled was already out and running into the building. His eyes lifted to the departure boards, scanning for the Edinburgh flight. Damn, it was already flashing “Now Boarding.” An announcer’s voice rang out, telling him that this was the last call for passengers for Flight EB760 to Edinburgh.

Khaled ran straight to the airline desk, smiling apologetically at the customers waiting to check in.

“Please. Now. I need you to hold Flight EB760 at the gate.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I can’t do that.” The check-in girl looked up at Khaled. He watched as recognition spread across her face. “Your Highness, of course.”

“Yes. Now, I need you to hold Flight EB760 at the gate.” Khaled looked pointedly at the telephone on her desk. “By royal command.”

“Yes, sir.”

Still looking as though she didn’t quite believe what was happening, the girl lifted the receiver and put in a call.

“Yes, I know. I know. The thing is…” She looked up again at Khaled to check that it really was him. He indicated that she should hand him the phone.

“This is Sheikh Khaled ibn Saqat al Mayim. You may address me as Your Highness.”

“Your Highness.” Another faintly shaky voice repeated his title.

“Good. Now listen to me. I need you to hold Flight EB760 at the gate. There is a passenger on board I must speak with before she leaves the country.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. The plane is taking off now. There is nothing I can do.”

Too late. Damn it! He could charter the royal jet. He could fly directly to Aberdeen and be there before Olivia landed. He would be there to welcome her off the plane and tell her… Tell her what? He hadn’t spoken to Sadiah. He didn’t even know whether he’d interpreted the rumors correctly. He was running ahead of himself.