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He pinched his lips together and clenched his jaw. And like a cornered, wild animal he growled, “I’m Sheikh of Imbranak. I do what I want when I want.”
“Then I guess I was right the first time about you. Despite your powerful title you’reweak and use alcohol to get you through life whenever things get tough.”
Guilt surged, outstripping any pride he might have about anyone eavesdropping. Why should he care about what others thought when Holly sounded hurt and resigned to the fact she’d been right all along about him?
She sniffed inelegantly. “I’m only surprised you don’t have some floozy hanging off you.”
He downed a couple more drinks, then pointed to the shot glasses to let the bartender know to refill them all. Hamid threw back another three in quick succession. What did it matter now what Holly thought of him? She was leaving him anyway. And she wasn’t shy in letting anyone know it.
It was his fault, really. He’d given her a month. He should have made it six. At least then he’d have had more time to make her see how good they were together.
She stared at the shot glasses, her face tight. “You don’t have to do this.”
“You’re right. I don’thaveto do anything. Yet here I am.”
He was being a dick, but her earlier rejection stung worse than a thousand bees. He was vulnerable and hurting, and he had no defense other than doing his best to drink himself into some kind of anaesthetized stupor.
“So what happens now?” she asked.
Though his soul threatened to shrivel and die, he kept his voice strong, neutral, when he announced, “Your month here is void. Feel free to collect your payment from tonight’s proceeds in the morning before you leave.” He lifted his glass. “You got your wish. You’re now a free woman.”
An animalistic sob threatened to tear up his too-thick throat. His hands clenched around yet another tiny shot glass. She didn’t want him. She most certainly didn’t deserve his affection. So what was with the tears filling her eyes?
He hardened his heart. He didn’t need her damn sympathy! He raised his glass again. “Congrats, by the way. I hear you’re a raging success.”
She nodded, though her voice came out whisper-quiet. “You helped me get there a whole lot faster.” She glanced around the room, her bottom lip quivering. “What a shame this is your way of celebrating.”
His stomach hardened and fury pulsed. He was a sheikh, a man others respected and revered. And she was ashamed of him?
He grabbed the vodka bottle from out of the barman’s hands. “Then allow me to remove myself from your celebrations. I need some fresh air, anyway.”
Don’t go. Fight for her!
He ignored that piece of him screaming not to give up. He’d already gone too far. Hewasa drunk. An irresponsible jerk. Holly deserved better.
He staggered through the crowd, his stomach churning at the many toxic perfumes and gaudy oversized jewelry. He’d been on too much of a high with Holly earlier to notice the very things he hated most, and now he was desperate to get out of the room before he suffocated or howled out his wrath.
Bad enough that every eye followed his departure. He managed to paste on a smile. His heart might be Holly’s but it was the desert that called out his name, tugging at his soul like a benediction. A balm to his deep emotional wounds.
His smile hardened into self-loathing. He’d still give it all up to start again and be with Holly…his little flame.
His vision blurred, but he made out Dhamar as he stepped toward him. Hamid shook his head and Dhamar paused, then stepped back to give him the space needed. Hamid was only glad Jamal, Mahindar and Fayez hadn’t been able to clear their schedules at such short notice to attend Holly’s exhibition.
He’d been such a fool to come up with the bet for all four of them to build a ballroom for the love of their lives—if it ever happened. Karma made sure it had happened soon after for him. That he’d failed to win Holly’s heart had to be serendipity. Mahindar, the lucky bastard, had built the ballroom and gotten the woman of his dreams.
But though Mahindar and Hamid both worshipped the ground their women walked on, Mahindar didn’t have Hamid’s vices and abstained from drinking too much. He was the sensible, people’s sheikh. Everyone loved him. Jamal and Fayez were also well-loved, while Hamid’s people probably still despaired of him. This latest drinking binge would only prove them right.
He took a swig of the vodka, pushing past the crowd without acknowledging any of them. He didn’t blame Holly for wanting to leave him, and though it hurt deeply he’d done the right thing in letting her go.
But he needed his space more than ever, someplace to drown his sorrows. He had a private courtyard, where he and any number of his harem had once had all the privacy they needed. Now he alone would enjoy its solitude and seclusion.
His stomach burned and everything around him dipped, then did a slow spin.Damnation.His recent dry spell meant he was no longer able to handle his alcohol. At this rate, what should have taken him a ten minute leisurely stroll to get to the courtyard would instead take twenty.
It was a relief to finally arrive. Stepping out onto the dark blue, mosaic-patterned tiles, luxurious cushioned love seats beckoned and water fountains tinkled, a soothing sound.
He hooked a foot onto the back of a hand carved, timber bench, and lifted the bottle to his lips with a heavy sigh. This place might calm his soul but his thoughts were still in turmoil.
“I knew you would come, Sheikh Hamid. I waited here for you.”
