‘You can thank me by stating the purpose of this call, and giving it the proper attention it deserves,’ he replied, the pitch of the deep, masculine voice powering down her spine.

His intonation, the way his voice caressed the vowels of the words he spoke, threw Allegra for a moment. A moment too long, if the harsh exhalation at the end of the line was anything to go by.

She hurried to speak. ‘My name is Allegra Di Sione...’

‘I’m very much aware of who you are. What I’m still waiting to find out is why you wished to speak to me.’

She bit her tongue against an acerbic response. As the head of her family’s charity, she’d been well practiced in diplomacy, even when she least felt it.

Allegra reminded herself why she was doing this, and regrouped. ‘I have a matter to discuss with you—one of the utmost importance—which I’d prefer not to do over the phone.’

‘Since you and I have never met before, I assume this matter you wish to discuss concerns your Di Sione Foundation?’

Allegra frowned, a little aghast by her body’s unwanted but deeply decadent reaction to his voice.

The notion that the answer she gave would determine the course of this conversation made her hesitate. The matter she wished to discuss was intensely personal. She had no intention of failing her task. But neither did she want her access blocked before she’d even started her quest to regain the treasured box for her grandfather by admitting that her visit would be personal. For one thing, with the previous sheikh dead, she wasn’t even sure Sheikh Rahim Al-Hadi was still in possession of the box Giovanni spoke so fondly of.

She framed her words carefully. ‘I’ll be visiting you in my capacity as the head of my family’s foundation, yes,’ she prevaricated, fighting the urge to cross her fingers.

She didn’t believe in luck. Or fate. Or destiny. Or she would be unbearably heartbroken that the cosmos had seen it fit to orphan seven small children, then given the only loving substitute parent she’d known a life-threatening condition.

Life was what it was.

She’d long ago accepted the fleeting happiness along with the abiding pain that came with being a Di Sione. Once she reached Dar-Aman, she would explain the true purpose of her visit.

If she got there.

‘I’m leaving the capital on Thursday morning. Perhaps you can arrange to see me when I return in a month’s time.’

‘What? No. I need to see you before you go away.’ Presumably to Europe or the Caribbean. After all, he was rumoured to keep homes in Monaco, St-Tropez and the Maldives. When her response was met with even more silence, she continued. ‘Our business won’t take more than a few hours, half a day at the most.’

‘Very well. My private jet is currently hangared at Teterboro Airport. It’s returning in two days. I’ll have my people arrange for you to be on it.’

Allegra’s mouth twisted. ‘That won’t be necessary. I’m perfectly okay with taking a commercial flight.’ She couldn’t quite keep the censure from her tone.

‘Shall I make my own inference from your tone or do you wish to tell me why the offer of my jet offends you?’ he rasped icily.

‘There’s the very small matter of concern about my carbon footprint.’ It was a position she felt strongly about, even though it earned her ridicule from her brothers, who made use of private jets when they pleased.

‘Very well. I’ll leave you to discover for yourself the many connecting flights you’ll need to take to reach Dar-Aman from New York. You might also want to bear in mind that the half a day window might be reduced to mere minutes if you arrive late. If you change your mind about my offer, let my secretary know. Your time is up and I have other pressing matters to attend to. Goodbye, Miss Di Sione.’

‘Wait!’

‘Yes?’

She clicked on her diary and scrutinised it quickly. The earliest she could get to the Kingdom of Dar-Aman were she to leave tonight—which was impossible because she had a dinner appointment with a UN ambassador—would be the early hours of Thursday morning after three flight changes. She would be in no state to have a coherent conversation with the sheikh, never mind attempt to make him a fair offer for the Fabergé box. Her grandfather’s request was too important to arrive in Dar-Aman tired and ill-prepared.

‘I... I accept your offer.’

‘Good choice, Miss Di Sione. I look forward to welcoming you to Dar-Aman.’

* * *

Sheikh Rahim Al-Hadi perused the in-depth report his aide, Harun, had put together for him. After a second read, he closed the file and sat back from the large, polished antique desk hewn from one of the oak trees said to have been planted by the first man to have set foot on Dar-Aman. That man had been his direct ancestor, the first Sheikh Al-Hadi.

The responsibility ingrained into that desk wasn’t lost on Rahim. Each time he sat down he felt its oppressive weight. Each time he made a decision that drew a frown, or a protest from a council mired in the old ways, the weight of that frustrating responsibility pressed down harder on him.

He smiled wryly.

There had been a time when he’d gladly have tossed the desk onto the pyre and gleefully watched it burn in an all-night bonfire. Preferably surrounded by three dozen sycophants and an endless supply of willing females.

Unfolding his arms, he touched the left side of his chin, where a remnant of his old ways resided in the form of a scar earned while abseiling down a sheer cliff face on a stupid dare.

That adrenaline-fuelled, life-endangering roller-coaster living had come to an abrupt end with the death of his father six months ago.

Then he’d been forced to return home. Forced to face the path his life had taken...

Cutting that mental road trip short, he pressed the intercom.

‘Harun, have the state guest rooms in the east wing prepared. And delay my trip for another three days.’

‘But... Your Highness...are you sure?’ the middle-aged man enquired.

Rahim suppressed a sigh. He was sick to the back teeth of his chief aide’s second-guessing. If the man weren’t a veritable mine of information on everything to do with Dar-Aman, Rahim would’ve fired him a long time ago.

Rahim hadn’t needed palace spies to tell him that Harun didn’t want him in Dar-Aman. Had the decision been left to Harun alone when the council had presented Rahim with the ‘Rule or Abdicate’ choice, Harun would’ve preferred Rahim abdicate, so Harun’s own son, Rahim’s distant cousin, could take the throne.

But despite being presented with a decision he hadn’t been expecting until he was well into his fourth or fifth decade, Rahim had known he had only one choice. Dar-Aman was his home. His ancestors had fought and sacrificed to keep this their home. Rahim wasn’t about to turn his back on it because of hurt feelings or the sentimentality of youth. If anything, his eyes had been opened to the fact that love and fairy tales existed in the minds of the weak and foolish.

He’d thrived without those ephemeral emotions and there was certainly no room for that in the future of Dar-Aman. Just as there was no room to cater to Harun’s sense of entitlement. But for now, Rahim needed him. Because until he wrought the changes he desperately needed to bring to his kingdom, his hands were tied. In so many ways that he’d lost count. And with each knot he unravelled, it seemed several more sprang up elsewhere.

‘I also want a banquet held on Friday night. Make sure all the necessary dignitaries and ministers and their wives are invited,’ he added.

‘Of course, it will be done as you wish’ came the reluctant reply. ‘Do you require anything else, Your Highness?’

‘If I do, I will let you know.’

‘Yes, Your Highness.

He disconnected, and strode back to the window. The view that greeted him was the same. Verdant grass rolled for almost a quarter mile from the grounds of the royal palace, interspersed in several places by shining mosaic fountains, majestic in stature and elaborately pleasing in their water displays. Much like everywhere in the royal palace, each facet of the landscape had been created with pleasure in mind. Everything his father had done had been first and foremost to please the wife he’d loved above everything and everyone else. Therefore his late father had spared no expense in providing the palace to rival the most magical and luxurious fairy tales, in order to please his mother.

While she’d been alive, that love had flowed to him, and beyond, to the Dar-Aman people. His home and kingdom had been a charmed place indeed.

And then she’d died, taking his unborn brother with her, and turning Rahim’s world to darkness.

Rahim gritted his teeth as long-suppressed wounds threatened to rip open. Those wounds had been straining against the bandages of time since his return to the palace, a place he’d sworn on his eighteenth birthday never to return to. That last, blazing row with his father remained seared in his memory, along with the stiletto-sharp words his father had thrown at him that day. It had shocked him then how quickly fond and happy memories could be replaced with pain and desolation. But no matter how much he’d wished it otherwise, his mother’s death had changed everything, including, for a very long time, his life’s path.

Even his people hadn’t been spared. Dar-Aman had suffered greatly since the death of its queen.

Shock didn’t begin to cover his emotions at what Rahim had returned home to six months ago. And he had only himself to blame. From the moment he’d left Dar-Aman fifteen years ago, he’d mentally and emotionally cut all ties with his homeland. The people he’d surrounded himself with might have known he was the heir to a sheikhdom, but they’d been warned in no uncertain terms never to speak about his homeland. The blackout when it came to everything Dar-Aman had been complete.

Now he stared at the kingdom spread beneath him with regret and sadness.

Beyond the fairy-tale palace lay miles and miles of construction work, evidence of a painful rebirth where there should’ve been proud growth. Dar-Aman’s infrastructure had been left in the hands of a corrupt and greedy few who’d run the economy to the ground until his return had put an end to the chaos. The government that was once held up by the international community as forward-thinking had been perverted to the point where they were almost archaic.

His mind veered from the monumental task that lay before him, to the impending visit of Allegra Di Sione. Although Rahim had crossed paths with the Di Sione twin brothers during his ‘party hard’ phase in college and afterwards, he hadn’t taken much note of the rest of the dynastic family. After college, Rahim had been too busy forging a life for himself that didn’t involve Dar-Aman, even though at the back of his mind he’d known he’d have to assume the mantle of sheikh one day. He’d built a successful hedge fund company worth billions, while living life to the fullest in every sense.

And all the while, his home had been crumbling into decay and apathy. While he could channel his own personal fortune into restoring his kingdom to the respectable powerhouse it’d once been, he was aware of the more problematic issue of his personal image, his past exploits having raised more than a few eyebrows since his return.

The attention-seeking antics of his teenage years, before he’d parted ways with his father, could have been explained away as youthful hormones.

But Rahim knew his less than conservative lifestyle was the reason he’d met with so much resistance since his return to Dar-Aman.

Turning from the window, he returned to his desk.

Allegra Di Sione’s visit to Dar-Aman couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. Her foundation’s work on rights-enhancing on behalf of women, especially in poverty-stricken countries, was just the launching ground Rahim needed for his people. And it wouldn’t hurt to have his own image makeover in the process.

The Dar-Amanian people needed to believe he was invested in their future. They needed to believe he wasn’t just a playboy flashing by to throw money at a problem before disappearing again. He could do nothing about the reams of media reports about his high-octane lifestyle in the past decade. What he could do was demonstrate that he was here for the long haul. Once their confidence in him was restored, he could lay the firm foundations for his kingdom’s future.

And Allegra Di Sione was the key to that plan.

* * *

Allegra rose and stalked to the door of the plane the moment the seat belt lights flashed off. The anger roiling through her belly threatened to rise up and choke her. She was ashamed that part of it was directed at herself.

She’d boarded the royal Dar-Aman jet with every intention of hating every minute of the fourteen-hour flight. Instead she’d melted into the soft, luxury leather club chair, and after a brief resistance, graciously accepted the care and attention the staff had lavished on her. Plus the peace and quiet had been heaven to work in, the state-of-the-art technology keeping her linked with her office. She’d even grudgingly accepted why her brothers highly rated private jet travel. With the amount of international business they conducted, the ability to work or rest in transit without distractions would be a godsend.

Allegra had even gone as far as to silently praise Sheikh Rahim Al-Hadi when one member of his plane staff had let slip that the jet was also used to transport food aid in the Arab region as and when needed.

But all of that had been before she’d opened the glossy magazine Zara had included in her hurriedly put together ‘Things to Know about Dar-Aman’ dossier. The article had juxtaposed life on the streets as a common citizen against life as the ruler of the oil-rich kingdom.

The dichotomy had been staggering.

Shock had held her rigid as she’d leafed through glossy picture after glossy picture showing the sheer, almost nauseating wealth displayed in the royal palace. Compared to the neglected citizens and woefully inadequate infrastructure, Allegra had been deeply saddened and angered as she’d taken in the gold-leaf ceilings and Fabergé boxes dotted in careless abandon in guests’ rooms. Even the pillars and arches that flowed from hallway to room were painted with gold. Reaching the end of the article, she’d been truly stunned at the estimated wealth of the palace and its yearly upkeep. Since Zara had also included the annual gross domestic product of Dar-Aman in the dossier, Allegra had a direct comparison at her fingertips. The result had made her fingers clench hard around the magazine till she’d heard a rip.

That rip echoed through her now as she stepped into the early-morning sunshine and onto the red carpet and spotted the convoy of black SUVs speeding towards the plane. In the middle of the gleaming vehicles, with miniature royal flags billowing from the bonnets, was a top-of-the-line Rolls Royce Phantom.

Since one of her brothers had been toying with purchasing one last Christmas, Allegra knew the cost of the luxury car. She swung her gaze from the gleaming white, gold-trimmed car, to the man in flowing white robes striding towards her.

Her breath caught as she watched him move. Despite the crisp robes covering him from neck to ankles, she couldn’t mistake the natural grace in his walk, or the animal awareness that whipped through his lean frame. As he drew closer, her gaze rose to his face.

Disgruntlement morphed to something else. Something equally all-consuming, but a lot more dangerous, as her eyes met golden hazel ones. Surrounded by long, sooty lashes, the gaze was direct, piercing in a way that made her step falter and grind to a halt. Ashamedly dazed, she took in the high cheekbones, the square, chiselled jaw which sat beneath neatly trimmed designer stubble and the aristocratic nose that flared slightly as he conducted his own inspection of her.

She’d met enough heads of state to separate the natural born leaders from those who relied on their position to throw their weight about. The sheer magnetism of the man who she’d only ever seen in a two-dimensional picture in a magazine didn’t need the trappings of wealth, or the majestic Dar-Aman royal-crested keffiyeh that rested effortlessly on his proud head, to show he was an alpha in every sense of the word.

Allegra was still wrestling with the direction of her thoughts and the confusing emotions warring within her when he bared his teeth in a smile so charming and disarming her heart flipped in her chest.

‘Miss Di Sione, it’s good to meet you. Welcome to Dar-Aman. I’m Sheikh Rahim Al-Hadi. I would’ve been here to meet you earlier, but matters of the palace delayed my arrival. Please forgive me.’

Forcing her mouth not to gape at the raw sensuality and beauty of the man before her, Allegra scrambled to remember why she was incensed with this man and everything he stood for.

But he was holding out his hand, and being too polite and conscious she was greeting the ruler of a kingdom in full view of his members of state, she had no choice but to place her hand in his.

Fire sizzled up her arm. There was no other way to describe it. Allegra tore her gaze away and glanced down at where their hands joined to verify that he wasn’t doing something absurdly juvenile, like zapping her with a hand buzzer. She knew it was possible because Dante, the crazier half of her twin set of brothers, had played that trick on her once.

There was no trick this time. Her fingers shook within his large, firm hold, the result sending goose pimples all over her body.

‘That’s quite all right. The last thing I expect is special treatment,’ she added, once she’d clawed back a bit of sense.

After one further press of her flesh, he dropped her hand. Allegra wasn’t sure whether to sigh with relief or rub her hand on her thigh to alleviate the tingle that lingered.

‘You are an invited guest to Dar-Aman—that means you’re entitled to special treatment. Come and meet my council, then we will travel to the palace.’ He stepped back and she noticed the small group that had surrounded them. A middle-aged man was the first to step forward. The disapproving gleam in his eyes took her aback for a moment.

‘This is Harun Saddiq, my personal aide and advisor.’

Allegra summoned a smile. ‘I believe we spoke on the phone. Thank you for your help in getting me here.’

The older man inclined his head and shook her hand, but offered no response. Allegra silently shrugged him off. Whatever issue he had with her, she wouldn’t be here long enough for it to matter. She conducted the rest of the meet and greet with accustomed diplomacy, but as she turned away, she caught Sheikh Rahim’s sharp gaze on her as he led her towards the luxury car.

The driver leapt forward, but Rahim Al-Hadi waved him away. Mildly surprised by the dismissal of protocol, Allegra glanced up. And met keen hazel eyes regarding her.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

The sensation was absurd, but she couldn’t dismiss the idea that he was seeing more than she wanted him to. That he knew his effect on her. ‘Yes, of course. Why shouldn’t I be?’

One sleek eyebrow went up. ‘It’s perfectly acceptable to be exhausted and perhaps a little cranky after such a long flight.’

‘I’m not cranky.’ She paused, willing the snap out of her voice and reminding herself that she was here for her grandfather and nothing else. ‘And you didn’t need to come out and meet me. I would’ve been fine making my own way.’

‘Perhaps I have ulterior motives for your visit.’ He smiled, displaying perfect teeth in a sexy, dangerously arresting face that had her senses going into free fall.

Tucking her briefcase closer against her body, she dragged her gaze away, silently thankful for the reminder of Sheikh Rahim’s playboy reputation. He was probably a man who saw every woman as a potential conquest.

‘It’s a shame I won’t be here long enough to find out what they are,’ she said, faking a smile as she slid into the back seat.

The door shut with a soft, decadent whoosh, and she watched, almost against her will, as he walked around to the opposite side from which he’d emerged to slide in next to her.

Outside, in the arid desert air, Allegra had only been visually aware of Rahim Al-Hadi’s presence. Tucked in close proximity to him, his scent washed over her. Spicy, exotic, with a touch of sandalwood, the scent was powerful and overwhelmingly male.

She’d dated during her college years and afterwards, although none of her relationships had gone beyond the casual phase. She’d even indulged in a brief physical relationship when she’d been curious to see what she was missing that wasn’t fulfilled by her work.

None of the men who’d crossed her path had had the effect that Rahim Al-Hadi had on her now. She surreptitiously drew in another breath and again sensations bombarded her.

Reassuring herself that she was blowing things out of proportion, probably due to lack of sleep, she cleared her throat. ‘Your Highness, I’m grateful to you for agreeing to see me on such short notice. I promise I won’t take up too much of your time.’

He sent her a wider, even more devastating smile, and in that moment Allegra knew her emotionally dazed state had nothing to do with lack of sleep. The man was sexual charisma personified. While the men she’d dated had had charm going for them, what this man wielded in his small finger alone would flatten them. She stared as his even white teeth gleamed in the brilliant sunshine. ‘You’ll be pleased to know I’ve rearranged my schedule to accommodate your visit. For as long as you’re here, my staff and I are at your service. Any luxury you wish for will be yours with just the asking.’

And with that, Allegra was brought back to earth with a hard bump. The reminder of Rahim Al-Hadi’s unspeakable wealth made her bristle. ‘Thank you, but the luxury of my hotel bed and a cup of strong coffee are all I’ll need once I’ve discussed the reason for my visit with you. My return flight is booked for tomorrow, so I hope you won’t think me rude if I insist on our meeting as soon as possible?’

Straight black brows clamped together in a thunderous frown. ‘You’re leaving tomorrow?’ he rasped, the gleam of his teeth disappearing as his full, sensual lips compressed in a displeased line.

‘You did mention you would only be available for a short time, did you not, Your Highness?’

‘Rahim.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You may call me Rahim when we are having a one-to-one conversation,’ he elaborated, but his smile this time lacked its previous warmth. It was almost as if she’d done something to offend him. ‘May I call you Allegra?’

For a moment, she lost herself to the sensual intonation of her name. While his accent was mostly American—due to his having spent over a decade and a half in the US—every now and then the exotic tones of his homeland’s dialect curled around his words, lending them a mesmeric quality.

‘I... Yes, of course.’ In a distant part of her mind, Allegra knew she should be thankful that this meeting was going better than she’d hoped it would.

‘Allegra, I confess to not giving our telephone conversation the careful attention it deserved.’ Another blinding smile that slammed lightning straight to her midriff. ‘After we spoke I had a change of heart. I’ve already prepared rooms in my palace for your convenience. My trip has also been postponed to Sunday, which means I will devote myself to you until then. Tonight, I’m holding a banquet in your honour.’

Her mouth gaped. ‘A banquet? But I’m only here to discuss...’

He waved her protest away with a flick of an elegant hand. ‘We’ll discuss your business here later, after you’ve had a chance to rest. For now, allow me to give you a brief tour of Shar-el-Aman, my country’s beautiful capital.’

Allegra swallowed her surprise, although the notion that there was more going on here than met the eye didn’t dissipate.

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