AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Behind them was a black range rover with heavily tinted windows. Two of the henchmen opened the doors and the Sheikh moved easily into the front passenger seat. The driver took up his position, leaving Marook and Olivia to sit in the back of the luxury vehicle.
Of course, there was an equal probability she would be behind him as not, and it just so happened that Marook moved to sit behind the driver. It became apparent almost immediately that it was so he could speak more easily to Zamir.
But it left Olivia free to observe him in the side mirror of the car. His face was clearly visible to her, and she couldn’t help but look. It was a fascinating face. Hard planes and angles and a cleft in his chin. A firm brow and thick, lustrous hair.
They spoke in their language, effectively boxing Olivia out of any conversation. She barely minded.
If anything, it helped to underscore the difference between them. And there was a difference. In wealth, position, power; everything. It had been so easy to forget that the night before! Just the two of him, alone in his hotel room, she’d looked on him not as a prince, but as a man.
And she’d wanted him as a man.
Her heart turned over at the frank admission she could no longer deny. Desire was one thing. A crush another. But this was a rush of need the likes of which she’d never experienced before.
She closed her eyes behind the dark frames of her sunglasses and let out a breath.
When she opened them again, her gaze was drawn to the side mirror.
And he was looking at her.
Unapologetically, his golden eyes were considering her face, studying her, as she’d done to him. And her heart galloped accordingly in her chest. She looked away quickly, focussing on the streetscape beyond the car.
“Is your room acceptable, Miss Henderson?” He cut Marook off mid-sentence, returning easily to her language.
She resisted the instinct to lean forward a little. It reeked of nerves, and she would not let him know how he set her on edge. “Perfectly, sir.”
“Good.” He turned back to her in the mirror and his eyes burned with the same intensity as they had in his hotel room.
The butterflies in her stomach began to tumble into one another.
The car travelled far from the built-up suburbs of Vegas, out into the dusty desert. Red sand stretched for miles with occasional tumbleweeds and clumps of straw-like grass punctuating the steady vista. Occasionally they’d pass a rancher’s house or a gas station, but for the most part, it was just acrid desert.
Eventually, the driver slowed and steered them to a set of almost military-seeming gates. He held a tag up to an intercom and the gates opened a few seconds later.
Here, desert gave way to oasis. Green lawn stretched like magic on either side of the paved driveway. It swept over a gentle crest and then gave way to a turning circle around a landscaped garden. Beyond it, a plantation style home nestled into the lawns, with a wide porch, dormer windows, and a set of three steps leading to wide French doors. Plants in pots were placed with the appearance of casual disregard on the deck, and they were fruiting trees. Citrus, she guessed, thinking longingly of her mother’s small grove back home.
There was no sign to announce what purpose the business served, but it definitely wasn’t residential.
Curiously, she looked to Zamir in the mirror and felt a lurching of compassion. His face was tight, his eyes scanning the building with an obvious sense of wariness. Wherever they were, he did not savour the task ahead. His nerves became her nerves.
“Wait here.” He spoke in English, but he addressed all three of them.
He stepped out of the car before the driver could get around to open the door. And he moved up the steps with a steady determination, despite his obvious dread.
Like all medical facilities, it smelled of disinfectant and discomfort. Even the expensive and tasteful furnishings couldn’t obscure the security measures. Every door had three locks and the glass panels were braced with metal grids. The nurse’s station at the front desk had a panic button and discreet security cameras.
“I am here to see Sheikh Ra’if Fayez,” he said darkly.
“Good morning, sir,” she responded, scanning the computer screen. “This way, please.”
She was a woman in her thirties with shining brown hair and a pleasing figure. She wore the kind of nurse’s uniform that he’d seen in movies. A crisp white dress with a folding collar and a nametag that said Delores.
“I will speak to his physician first.”
Delores paused. “Oh. I see.”
Zamir, used to being obeyed instantly, narrowed his eyes. “I trust this will not be a problem.”
“No, no. I’m sure it won’t be.” She bit down on her lower lip, and her eyes seemed to linger on his face. “Would you mind waiting while I find him?”
