Never Seduce a Sheikh (International Bad Boys Book 2) Read online

  “Oh, I’m sure you can.” With precise care, he put the pen down on the desk. “They like a pretty woman.” His voice was soft, deep, with a roughness to it and an accent with echoes of British public school, underlain with something more exotic. She tried not to fixate on the sound as he went on, “Female beauty in all its forms is much appreciated here in Dahar. They also like to be flattered. To be charmed.”

  An odd little sensation skittered down her spine as he spoke. It wasn’t fear. Couldn’t be fear.

  You’re beautiful, Lily. So damn beautiful. But you wouldn’t be wearing a dress like that if that if you didn’t want men to touch you.

  A memory, twelve years old, escaped from the locked iron box she kept it in. Of her, in the gown she’d worn at her medal celebrations, and Dan’s drunken slurred voice . . .

  No. God, what was he doing in her head? She didn’t think of him. She never thought of him. Lily pushed the past firmly out of her mind and made sure it stayed out.

  Wanting to test herself a little, she came towards the sheikh and he watched her approach, armsfolded, that amused smile hovering around his mouth. Sitting as he was on the edge of the desk, she could look straight into his eyes without having to tilt her head back. Which should have made her feel confident and sure of herself. But it didn’t. Because, she realized, far too late, that being close to him made her aware of him in a way she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. A very physical awareness. Of his scent, sandalwood and spices, exotic, sensual. Different. So different from the expensive, leathery aftershaves of the men she sat around boardroom tables with. Of the color of his eyes, brilliant beneath indecently long, black lashes. The smooth bronze of his skin, a perfect contrast to the white of his shirt.

  Why did his proximity affect her so much? And why did she feel so breathless? She’d never felt this way before with any other man.

  “You have something to say to me?” he asked.

  And she realized she’d been staring at him. Been standing there staring with not a thought in her head.

  A small kernel of fear knotted deep inside her. She fought it. “I have dealt with heads of state before I was CEO, your Highness. With governments. I know what I’m doing.”

  “I should hope so, Ms. Harkness. Your success depends on it.”

  But of course, she wasn’t the only one who needed this to work and it wouldn’t hurt to remind him of that. “As does yours.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, maddeningly cool. “But the other companies in contention for this contract have found a certain amount of favor with my people already. I have alternatives, in other words.”

  It was a gauntlet thrown down. A gauntlet Lily picked it up without hesitation. “Those alternatives won’t offer you what Harkness can.” She didn’t look away from him. Even though he was close. Even though that strange awareness of him only seemed to intensify the nearer she got to him.

  He lifted one dark brow. “And what is it that Harkness can offer me that no one else can?”

  Determination settled in her. Her reputation and that of Harkness depended on the success of this contract. Her father had trusted in her ability enough to appoint her as his successor. She would not let him down. If the sheikh wanted to play hardball, she was more than happy to oblige.

  “You want to be a different ruler, your Highness? Not a tyrant like your father?”

  The air around him changed. He sat there relaxed, but his stillness was that of a predator sensing a threat. Ready to pounce. “Careful, Ms. Harkness. Be very careful what you say.”

  “Why? It’s no secret.” A calculated risk to mention Sheikh Khalid, especially when she had no idea how he would take it. Not well, by the looks of things. Then again, she had to win this. For Harkness. For her father. For herself.

  Isma’il said nothing, his gaze giving nothing away.

  Lily pressed on. “Neither, is it a secret that you want to do things differently. That’s why you chose Harkness in the first place. That’s why we’re here. And we’re good at that. We’re good at doing things differently. We take care of the environmental and local issues in a way none of the others do and that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “You appear to have it all worked out.” The lazy amusement disappeared from his face. Which meant she was on the right track.

  “I’m the CEO for a reason, your Highness.” She lifted her chin. “I can organize mobile health clinics for your tribes. Schooling for their children. Our environmental experts are world leaders and can make sure that the drilling itself will not impact the environment or the people in any way.”

  With a graceful movement, Isma’il pushed himself off the desk. “Very well said. I shall keep that in mind. In the meantime, the emphasis remains on your performance.” He strolled towards the door where he paused, turning back to her. “Until tonight then, Ms. Harkness. I look forward to it.”

  * * *

  “I cannot find her, your Highness.”

  Isma’il frowned at his advisor. “What do you mean you cannot find her?”

  Umar clasped his hands together, looking apologetic. “She doesn’t appear to be in amongst the other guests. Perhaps she went back to her suite?”

  Isma’il cursed under his breath. The palace ballroom was packed with people, the reception in full swing. And yet, his guest of honor wasn’t here. Had she taken what he’d told her that afternoon so lightly?

  Surely not. The stakes were high for her and she’d seemed serious about them. In fact, she seemed to be so serious about everything, which made her absence right now a complete mystery.

  “Leave it to me,” he said curtly. “I will find her then.”

  And he would. Because, whether he was comfortable with the emotion or not, the fact that she wasn’t here annoyed him. It shouldn’t have, of course. He had two other perfectly good contenders for the oil contract and Harkness wasn’t his favored choice anyway. If its CEO wanted to throw away the opportunity and her reputation along with it, that was her choice.

  Yet, still irritation crept through his veins.

  Lily Harkness hadn’t tried to tempt him with more money. She’d offered mobile health clinics instead. Better schooling. Showing that at least she’d investigated and was aware of the difficulties the tribes had. None of the other companies had done so. Then again, none of the other CEOs had as much to prove as she did.

  As much as he had himself.

  He scanned the room, trying to keep his irritation under control.

  Looking for Lily should have been easy. She wasn’t exactly a woman who would blend into a crowd. Not with her special combination of beauty, height and cool poise. However, in amongst the glittering finery of other women and the formal suits of the men, he couldn’t see her.

  Isma’il smiled and greeted people, making his way in a slow circle around the ballroom. It should have pleased him to see so many people enjoying themselves. After all, a thoroughly western sort of function such as this would have been unheard of under Khalid’s rule and it certainly seemed as if everyone was making the most of it.

  But he didn’t feel pleased. Failure to find Ms. Lily Harkness only made him feel annoyed and being annoyed wasn’t his favorite state to be in.

  Eventually, as he walked past one of the French windows that led to the long colonnaded walk outside the ballroom, he caught a glimpse of a figure that made him stop. On the other side of the colonnade were the gardens the palace was famous for. The subtle lighting highlighted a woman standing right near one of the fountains. A familiar woman.

  Isma’il went to the door, opened it and stepped out into the night. The noise from the ballroom vanished as he closed the door behind him, leaving only the familiar hot, thick scent of the gardens and the splashes from the fountains.

  And Lily’s voice. She was talking softly this time, pacing up and down by the fountain.

  He stopped in the shadow of a pillar to watch her. Mesmerized.

  The blue suit had been left behind in favor of a gold dre
ss, gathered at one shoulder like something an ancient Greek goddess would wear. It was the kind of revealing dress that would have been disapproved of by the court years ago and certainly under his father’s rule. But Isma’il had worked hard to westernize the country and definitely here, in the capital, it was common to see revealing cocktail dresses like this one at certain functions.

  And revealing it certainly was. It left the other shoulder bare, a quantity of smooth golden skin on show, and clung to the rest of her figure, outlining her curves to perfection. It ended mid-calf, revealing enough leg to drive a man to distraction with wondering if they were as long and as toned all the way up.

  Yes, a goddess. Tall and lithe and powerful in her beauty.

  Desire clenched inside him, and along with it came a faint uneasiness. She was not like the usual submissive women he preferred in his bed. The soft, safe ones. The ones who never challenged him. The ones who didn’t wake the darkness inside of him. Lily was nothing like those women, which meant he shouldn’t be feeling this inappropriate and seemingly inexplicable attraction.

  Then, she turned into the light and his uneasiness intensified. Her face had lost that cool, self-possessed look, had relaxed instead into an expression of such open warmth it made his chest feel tight. Her lovely mouth curled into a smile as different to the pretense of one he’d seen earlier, as the heat of summer was different to the chill of winter.

  This smile was genuine. And this smile was beautiful.

  She laughed, low and husky and sexy, and he wanted to hear it again. Immediately. Preferably because he was the one who’d made her laugh.

  Who was she talking to? Who made her drop her armor like that?

  Isma’il stepped out from the shadow of the pillar and Lily’s head turned sharply. Brown eyes met his and instantly all the barriers came up, the warmth leaving her face, the smile fading.

  The loss of it made him feel cheated.

  “I have to go,” she said softly to whoever it was on the phone. Then, she disconnected the call, turning away to the side of fountain where a little gold clutch rested.

  “Who was that?” He kept his voice smooth. “Your husband perhaps?”

  Lily said nothing as she picked up the clutch and slid her phone inside. The soft lighting of the gardens shone over her, gilding her hair the color of wheat, once again drawn back from her face in a gleaming chignon. He found himself wishing it wasn’t. Wishing she’d left it loose and free down her back. So he could see what it looked like.

  “No,” she said levelly. “Not that it’s any business of yours.”

  “Of course, it is my business. You are supposed to be in the ballroom attending a function given in your honor, not outside attending to personal phone calls.”

  Lily’s dark eyes were unreadable and he felt as if he’d revealed himself in some way.

  Restlessly, he moved closer to her. “Or do you not care about this contract after all?”

  “You look a little angry, Sheikh.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You look as though you might need Harkness after all, despite your alternative options.”

  The darkness inside him stirred in response to her challenge, a certain, intense hunger waking. He obliterated the feeling. That hunger could never be allowed to rise, could never be indulged. Control over himself and his emotions the only thing that held it in check. A control that could not be allowed to slip.

  A slick feeling seemed to coat his fingers. The feel of blood.

  He thrust his hands into his pockets. “I am not angry. Merely irritated. If you want to waste this opportunity, that is your own affair.”

  Lily’s hand rose to grasp at something at her side, her fingers closing on empty air. She frowned, her hand falling awkwardly away again. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “As it happens, I was talking to my father. He wanted to know how it was all going.” She hesitated a second. “He still has a lot of interest in making sure this contract is successful.”

  So she hadn’t been talking to a husband or lover then. For some reason, this made his irritation recede. “I can imagine. You must be under a lot of pressure.”

  “Yes, but that’s the nature of the job. I’m used to pressure.”

  “I suppose you had enough of it as a swimmer?”

  Her features abruptly smoothed over. “Quite.” The word sounded flat. “Shall we go in?”

  An unwilling curiosity sparked to life inside him. Was her swimming career a touchy subject? If so, why? He wasn’t quite sure why he felt suddenly so interested, since this had nothing to do with the oil deal. But then, this was neither the time nor the place to indulge in such interest.

  “We shall,” he said instead, dismissing the curiosity. “After you.”

  Chapter Three

  Working a room when it came to business was easy. Lily knew what she was doing and what she wanted to achieve. But tonight, in Dahar’s royal palace, faced with unconcealed doubt from some of Dahar’s ministers and open contempt from others, Lily finally began to understand why this was going to be a difficult task.

  For a start, she hated the dress she wore. Responding to her concerned queries as to appropriateness, her personal shopper had assured her that Dahar’s court was very western these days and the outfit would be perfect for a cocktail function there. But although it was elegant, it was also far too revealing for Lily’s liking and left far too much skin on show. But she wore it anyway, because she refused to allow the feelings of exposure and vulnerability to have power over her.

  Except, for some reason, she hadn’t felt either of those things out by the fountain when the Sheikh of Dahar had looked at her. Strange. Because Dan had looked at her the way Isma’il had. Oh, not when he’d first been her coach. But later, soon after she’d turned sixteen. His eyes had lingered on her whenever she’d pulled herself out of the pool, following the line of her body. She’d hated it.

  She should have hated Isma’il’s gaze too. Especially considering the edge of darkness that had bled into those turquoise eyes of his, a glimpse of something dangerous underneath that charming exterior. Was that darkness an echo of his violent father? The whisper of Sheikh Khalid’s brutality in his son?

  A shiver went through her. Because, though that darkness was frightening, she also found it utterly compelling. Like confronting a beautiful tiger, knowing it could rip you to shreds at any second, yet wanting to touch the softness of its fur anyway.

  Electricity whispered over her skin, a strange burst of fizzing excitement igniting in her blood. She didn’t understand her response.

  Lily shook her head. She didn’t want to think about that. Or Dan either. Not now. Not here. She wasn’t that naïve sixteen year old girl, who thought all men were as trustworthy and as wonderful as her father. Not any longer. She was armored now. Invulnerable.

  The crowd shifted around her as Isma’il introduced her to yet another group of hostile looking men. He didn’t stand too close to her, yet the physical awareness of him that had begun in the limo that morning only seemed to heighten.

  Since this was a western function, he wore western dress. A tuxedo. The black suited him. He was a compelling presence, dominating the room with an intoxicating mixture of authority and outright charm, and it was clear his people viewed him with a respect bordering on awe.

  Lily tried to keep her mind on what she was doing and not let herself get distracted by him.

  She’d reviewed the information on Dahar’s business customs that afternoon before the function, and her father had given her a couple of pointers in his phone call, plus a healthy dose of encouragement. But, flirting and charming men didn’t come naturally to her. For the past six months she’d been the CEO, taking charge, giving orders, dealing with issues or problems in an authoritative manner, because she couldn’t afford to look indecisive or weak.

  Standing around making polite conversation made her impatient to get to the business at hand and she had to fight her natural tendency to hurry things along. />
  “So what does your husband think of all this?” One elderly robed minister asked her in excellent, cultured English.

  “I’m not married.” She could feel Isma’il’s sharp blue gaze on her. It made her want to grasp at the edges of the suit jacket she wasn’t wearing.

  “Not married?” The man looked shocked. “But you are a beautiful girl. Why not?”

  Lily quashed her instinctive irritation at the term ‘girl.’ She wanted to tell him that in fact she never intended to marry, that the company was all she needed. But the Daharans revered marriage and such a response wouldn’t be what the sheikh would be looking for she guessed.

  She smiled at the minister. Tried to make it genuine. Tried to be ‘charming.’ “Thank you. Perhaps, it’s just because I haven’t found the right man yet.”

  This prompted a round of smiles from the little circle of men.

  “You would need a strong man, I think,” said one, nodding meaningfully. “In Dahar we have many such men.”

  Flirt with them. Charm them.

  Such behaviour went against ten years of being one of the boys. Making herself an equal. Making herself into a man to overcome the disadvantage of her femininity in a male dominated industry. And it was a disadvantage. A very big disadvantage.

  Keeping her smile firmly in place, Lily made an effort. “Yes I can see that. Perhaps there are a few potential candidates in this very room.”

  They laughed at this and she became conscious of a small feeling of triumph. Maybe this wasn’t so hard after all.

  “If I was not already married I might put myself forward,” the minister said with a wink. “You are a prize indeed, Miss Harkness.”

  Her fingers tightened on her purse as she fought the urge to correct the Miss. “If you were not already married, I might let you.”

  More laughter.

  One of the other ministers nodded his head at Isma’il. “Have you thought about this one for a sheikha, your Highness? A strong woman like this would be an asset.” He smiled. “And her company wouldn’t be a disadvantage either.”