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‘He’s a very important guest, Henry. It should be me. You should have called.’
‘I don’t want you getting burned out, love. You can’t work around the clock. We can’t afford to lose you.’
‘I’m fine.’ Her heart twisted in her chest. She’d been buzzing with a heady sense of anticipation all day, waiting to see him, wondering if he’d call for her, or if wisdom and sense would have prevailed so that he woke up and wondered why the heck he was bothering to spend so much time talking to a servant.
‘When did he call?’
‘An hour ago.’
Panic lurched through her. ‘Why didn’t you page me?’
‘He said to tell you to go up when you arrived. I knew you wouldn’t be long...’
‘Henry,’ she wailed, shaking her head. ‘What if it was something urgent?’
‘Then that Malik man would have made himself known.’ Henry exaggerated a shudder. ‘He has no problems demanding whatever the hell he wants, when he wants it.’
That was true. Up until recently, all the requests had come from Malik. ‘I’ll go up now.’
She reached for the buzzer, to order some persimmon tea, but the kitchen informed her the Presidential suite had already requested dinner. ‘It should only be another few minutes.’
‘I t
hought he was at a function.’
‘Dunno,’ came the unhelpful response, so Daisy frowned as she disconnected the call. Double-checking her appearance in the mirror, she wished her cheeks weren’t so pink, nor her eyes so shining with obvious pleasure. The truth was, she couldn’t wait to see him, and that was dangerous.
Because he was going home soon, and, even if he weren’t, he was just a client. A client who was developing a habit of asking for her in the evenings.
She took the service elevator to the top floor, so the doors whooshed inwards and she knocked once. Before she could step inside, the door was pulled inwards and Sariq stood on the other side. He was wearing more familiar clothes this time—a pair of dark jeans and a white tee shirt with a vee at the neck that revealed a hint of curls at his throat.
Damn it, out of nowhere she found herself wondering how far down his hair went, imagining him without his shirt, and that made it almost impossible to keep a veneer of professionalism on her face.
‘Thank you for coming.’
‘It’s my job,’ she reminded him.
He didn’t move, but his eyes glowed with something that could have been amusement and could have been cynicism. If it was the latter, she didn’t have to wonder at why: it was pretty obvious that her being there had very little to do with her professional obligations.
‘I thought you had something on tonight.’
‘It didn’t last as long as the schedule had allowed,’ he said simply, drawing the door open without stepping far enough aside, so in order to enter the suite, she had to brush past him, and the second their bodies connected she felt a rush of awareness that was impossible to ignore. Instinctively, her face lifted to his and she saw the raw speculation there; the same interest that flooded her veins was rushing through his. Her knees shuddered and heat pooled between her legs, making thought, speech and movement almost impossible.
He stood so close, their bodies were touching. Just lightly, but enough, and even when Daisy knew she should move, or say something, she couldn’t. She could only stare at him. His face was like thunder, but his eyes were all flame. She could feel the war being raged within him, a battle to control his desire, and she didn’t want him to. This was madness. It was sheer, uncontrollable madness—and she had a billion reasons to resist. Max was the main one—her experience with him had warned her off tempestuous affairs for life. But she’d married Max, she’d pledged to love him and trust him, to spend the rest of her life with him. That had been her mistake. The Sheikh was only in New York for two more nights, including this one.
But he was a guest in the hotel! A seriously important guest, and she couldn’t afford to have anything go wrong. She swallowed, taking a step backwards, except she forgot there was a piece of furniture there and her hip jabbed into it, shunting her sideways, so she might have fallen if he hadn’t pushed a hand out, confidently, easily righting her. Her eyes were alarmed as they lifted to his and stuck there like glue, and when he took a step towards her, she couldn’t look away.
Her heart was hammering against her ribs so hard and fast that she was surprised he couldn’t see its frantic movements against her breasts. If she pushed up onto the tips of her toes, if she lifted her face, oh, God, she wanted to kiss him. The realisation was like fire, even when she knew it should have doused her desire, that it should have dragged her back to reality and put a halt to this foolishness.
But was it so foolish? Daisy had played it safe for so long and, suddenly, she was sick of it. Sick of playing it safe, of being careful with whom she trusted. It was as though she second-guessed her instincts so often that they’d grown blunt.
‘Your Highness...’ She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, only that they were standing so close, staring at one another, sensual heat heavy in the air around them, and she wanted to act on it. She wanted him.
But he frowned, his eyes darkening, even as he dropped his head closer. ‘I asked you here to show you something.’
Neither of them moved.
‘What is it?’
