The Sheikh's Secret Heir

Only time would tell if the real Tarek Azzmar turned out to be a huge disappointment, or a pleasant surprise.

Three

He was pleasantly surprised when she entered the plane, yet disappointed at her obvious aloofness when she muttered a greeting. She wore a somewhat sheer blue blouse and fitted white skirt rising a few inches above her knee, and that alone had him battling the urge to invite her into the onboard sleeping quarters, a request she would no doubt reject. He had to respect her friendship request for the time being, yet he could not be certain how long that would last.

Despite that, Tarek sent Kira a guarded smile as he showed her to the black leather seat and claimed the one set against the bulkhead opposite hers. They remained silent during takeoff, the lack of communication continuing as the pilot permitted them to move about the cabin.

As Tarek unbuckled his seat belt, Kira removed a magazine from the bag resting at her feet. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked as he stood.

“I’m fine, thank you,” she said as she surveyed the area. “This is a very nice plane, maybe even a bit nicer than the Mehdis’, although smaller. With all this black and white, it reminds me of a four-star boutique with wings. I’m surprised you don’t have an onboard bartender.”

“Due to the short duration of the flight, no attendants are necessary.”

“Three hours isn’t exactly short.”

“It is not long enough to justify bringing along a full staff.” In truth, he wanted privacy more than he had wanted someone waiting on him. “Therefore I will serve as your host. My wish is your command.”

“Again, I have no wishes, but your hospitality is appreciated.”

Frustrated, Tarek moved to the onboard bar, reached into the upper cabinet above the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of wine that he had reserved for a special occasion. Apparently Kira did not see anything special about traveling with him. At the moment, he needed something to cut through the tension, even if it came from a glass of twenty-thousand-dollar French premier cru.

Once he returned to his seat, he found her flipping through random pages. “What are you reading?”

She paused and lifted the magazine from her lap, then set it back down. “Just something to pass the time.”

“I have never had an affinity for tabloids.”

That had earned him Kira’s undivided attention and a scornful look. “It’s not a tabloid. It features book and movie reviews and human interest stories.”

“If one is interested in reading about adultery, illegal drug use and secret pregnancies involving Hollywood stars. Of course, the secret is soon revealed when paparazzi capture photos of the expectant actresses on the beach and release them to the general public. The concept sickens me.”

She raised a thin brow. “The photos or the pregnant starlets?”

“Both, in a sense. It seems it is a rite of passage among the rich and famous to populate the world, with or without the benefit of matrimony.”

“Now I understand. You’re a traditionalist when it comes to marriage before the baby carriage.”

She did not truly understand at all, nor would she without knowing his goal. “I am a pragmatist. It is immaterial to me whether someone marries or not before giving birth. I strongly believe that one should consider the atmosphere into which they are bringing a child. In my opinion, thrusting someone so young into the spotlight could be detrimental to their well-being.”

Her gaze drifted away momentarily before she tossed the magazine back in the bag. “I suppose since everyone knows your business when you’re in the spotlight, that’s definitely a risk.”

He took a drink of the wine and set it into the holder built into the seat’s arm. “I would not wish to be placed under a microscope on a daily basis.”

“But you have no problem having your face splashed across financial publications. And yes, I’ve seen a few of those covers featuring your smiling face.”

He briefly wondered if perhaps someone in the royal family had known of his existence prior to their introduction. “Where did you come by this knowledge?”

“The internet. I did some research before you visited the palace the first time.”

“An order from the king?”

“No. I took the initiative on my own. I make a point to learn about guests of the royal family.”

He relaxed somewhat. “What else do you know about my life?”

She shrugged. “Not all that much, other than you’re in the top fifteen on the list of the wealthiest men in the world.”

“Top ten.”

“Forgive me for my ignorance. I also know that you are somewhat of a philanthropist. I read an article where you opened an orphanage in Mexico City a while back.”

A pet project he had felt compelled to complete for personal reasons. “There was a need, and I had the means to fulfill that need.”

“I’m sure the tax write-off doesn’t hurt.”

He bristled at her continual questioning of his motives. “I have global holdings in several countries with varying tax structures. I assure you that compassion, not company write-offs, drives my charitable efforts.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding somewhat contrite. “I tend to be wary of men with an overabundance of money.”

“Why is that?”

“Personal reasons.”

He suspected he knew what those reasons might be. “Who was he?”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

The way she shifted in her seat and looked away indicated she chose to be evasive, confirming his conjecture. “Who was the wealthy man who broke your heart?”

“What makes you think this has anything to do with a man?”

“I can sense these things.”

She sighed, then hid a yawn behind her hand. “Yes, my attitude stems from a former relationship. Actually, he was my fiancé. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not discuss it. I didn’t sleep well last night and I’d like to take a nap.”

He vowed to revisit the topic at a later time. “We have still have hours before we arrive in Cyprus. That should give you ample time to rest. You will find the sleeping quarters at the rear of the plane.”

“I really don’t need a bed to take a nap. I’ll be fine right here.”

He could think of more favorable ways to use the onboard bed. “If you are concerned that I might attempt to join you, put your mind at ease. I do not require any sleep.”

“I highly doubt you’d want to join me to sleep.”

He returned her unexpected smile. “You know me well.”

“Not as well as I hope to know you before the end of this trip.”

Though he found her comment somewhat curious, he decided not to assume too much. “If you’re determined to refuse the offer of my bed, push the button on the right arm to release the footrest. The one to your left will recline the back.”

After complying, Kira stretched out, turned on her side and closed her eyes. “Wake me up in thirty minutes.”

Tarek finished off the wine and poured another glass as an afterthought. Rarely did he imbibe aside from the occasional social setting due to his need to remain in absolute control. Yet as he returned to his seat, he acknowledged the woman before him was as intoxicating as a shot of straight Russian vodka. In sleep, she looked innocent, yet he had experienced anything but innocence during their interlude. She had been a willing lover, exciting and experimental. Remembering those blissful moments now prompted a building pressure in his groin, causing him to bring his attention back to Kira.

With her upturned nose and the delicate line of her jaw, he saw little that indicated she would hail from Bajul, aside from the slightly golden color of her skin. Evidently her mother’s Canadian roots had taken genetic precedence over her father’s Middle Eastern heritage. Regardless, her beauty could not be denied and he had given up on doing that very thing.

During this adventure, he did hope to find out more about her, including the details of the miscreant who had emotionally destroyed her and filled her with distrust. More important, he needed to prove he was not the kind of man to fill a woman with false promises. Eventually he might take a wife and settle down, but not until he achieved his ultimate goal of building more wealth and power. Enough wealth and power to match the Mehdis. What better way to exact revenge for his denied birthright?

* * *

Kira awoke long enough to depart the plane that had been secured in a private hangar, only to enter an extravagant black limousine and drift off once again en route to Tarek’s Cyprus home. She came back into consciousness a while later, mortified to discover her cheek resting on his shoulder. Had she snored? Drooled? Hopefully none of the above.

After straightening and scooting over, Kira adjusted the hem of her white pencil skirt, which had climbed up her thighs to a point that bordered on indecency. “I’m sorry,” she muttered as the car navigated the drive. “I guess I needed more sleep than I realized.”

“No apology necessary,” he replied as the limo came to a stop. “I enjoyed having you so close. Granted, I was somewhat concerned that I might have to carry you into the house, although that would not have been a great burden.”

Maybe not a burden for him, but a total embarrassment for her. “I’ll endeavor to stay awake for the remainder of the evening.”

When the driver opened the door, Kira realized the sun had already begun to set, yet enough light existed to witness the grandeur of the white, expansive estate with manicured tropical gardens and a four-car garage. She accepted Tarek’s offered hand as he helped her out of the car and followed him silently up the stone path. A man dressed in a white suit greeted them on the front porch, then opened the heavy wooden double doors wide. “Welcome back, Mr. Azzmar.”

“It is good to be back, Alexios,” he replied. “Please see to it that Ms. Darzin’s luggage is delivered to her quarters immediately.”

“As you wish, sir,” the man said with a nod before making his way to the car.

Tarek turned to Kira and gestured toward the open doors. “After you.”

When Kira stepped inside the foyer, she was taken aback by the ultramodern décor that directly contrasted with Tarek’s newly built traditional mansion in Bajul. White and steel-gray leather sofas and chairs, accented with black and turquoise pillows, were set about the massive living room, accompanied by several tables comprised of glass and chrome. An enormous curved television hung above a fireplace surrounded by gray glass tile. Yet the most impressive sight lay beyond the open glass wall that revealed the panoramic view of the blue backlit pool, centered between two stone walls, and the Mediterranean Sea, which stretched out as far as the eye could see.

“Amazing,” Kira said. “An absolute paradise.”

“I am pleased that you are pleased,” Tarek replied from behind her.

Pleasure wasn’t her goal, a fact she had to remember before she let the atmosphere cloud her common sense. “I’m ready to work when you are,” she said as she faced him.

“Tonight we will relax and simply enjoy each other’s company.”

That could involve going somewhere she didn’t want to go. Correction. She shouldn’t go. “I slept the entire trip, Tarek. I have no problem getting started on my duties.”

“We will begin first thing in the morning with a visit to the resort. In the meantime, I will show you to your room, where you can freshen up before dinner.”

She saw no point in arguing with him because she couldn’t deny she was starving—both for food and for his touch. She could partake in one, but not the other. Not unless she wanted to forget her reasons for being there had nothing to do with falling into bed with him again.

After Tarek started down a corridor to her right, Kira followed behind him past several rooms, all the while recalling his perfect butt, which she unfortunately couldn’t see now, due to the length of his gray jacket. But she had seen that tempting bottom before in all its glory, and his well-toned legs, his ridged abdomen and his impossibly broad shoulders. She remembered in great detail clinging to those shoulders before running her palms down his back, exploring the pearls of his spine before spanning the width of his rib cage, then traveling down to the curve of his buttocks and curving her hand between his thighs...

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