Exposed: The Sheikh's Mistress
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Sharon Kendrick
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CHAPTER ONE
IF ONLY there had been some kind of warningâŠstorm clouds gathering on the horizon, perhaps, or a sudden chill wind which iced your skin. Like an omen. But the day was sunny and golden with not an omen in sight, and âif onlyâ were the two most useless words in the languageâSienna knew that more than anyone.
And even if she had knownâwhat could she have done that would have made things different? Nothing. She was as powerless as a leaf torn from its branch by a cruel autumn wind.
Yet her mood was light as she slipped into the back entrance of the Brooke Hotel, via the garden. The ivy-covered walkway was her favourite way into the building, for when you stood in the secret courtyard it was difficult to believe that you were right in the centre of Londonâwith the hubbub and bustle of the busy streets only a stoneâs throw away.
Here the sounds of the city were muted and softened by the tall, waving branches of trees which acted as a haven for all kinds of birds. Bees buzzed drowsily around the flowers and little ladybirds landed on your bare flesh and sometimes nipped it if you werenât looking. These days she was essentially a city girl, but this place reminded her of a country childhood which seemed another world away.
Sienna loved the Brooke. It was where she had fled to. Where she had been promoted. Where she had made the slightly scary decision to go freelanceâbut the hotel still provided the bulk of her work. As an events organiser, she organised weddings, birthday parties, book launches and bar mitzvahsâand her name was becoming well-known on the busy London social circuit. From fairly humble and untrained beginnings, she had certainly landed on her feet.
And if she ever stopped to think how sheâd got hereâŠWell, that was the whole pointâshe didnât ever think about it. Thinking never got you anywhere. It took you to all kinds of dark and disturbing places and in the end it changed precisely nothing. In life you just had to learn from your mistakes. To get through the bad times in the hope that there would be some good ones waiting round the corner. And there were. Of course there were.
Today, the dark onyx reception desk was massed with startling orange Bird of Paradise flowers mixed in with black irises and red lilies. It was a dramatic look, and not one favoured by shrinking violetsâbut then those kind of people didnât tend to stay here.
Money and power and a hungry desire for something âdifferentâ were the driving forces behind the screamingly influential clientele of the Brooke. Film-stars. Entrepreneurs. Royalty. Anyone who was anyone.
They all flocked to the converted eighteenth-century mansion where there was never an empty room. Where, as a client, you paid through the nose for luxury and discretion.
Sienna rode up in the penthouse elevator. She was meeting a Mr Altair, and before she met a client she always allowed herself a little daydream about just what kind of party they would want. A themed affair, perhaps? Like the time she had decked out a marquee to recreate a French circusâand had only just managed to persuade the trapeze artist not to flounce off in a huff because he hadnât had star billing!
Or the time she had crammed a ballroom with a thousand red roses for one of the most over-the-top engagement parties she had ever had a hand in.
Sienna smiled. Her job required that she had the organisational skills of an army generalâcombined with the smooth tongue of a career diplomat.
As the lift doors slid open, the door to the penthouse was opened by a tall, olive-skinned man. Some sixth sense should have told her thenâbut why would it? With his black eyes and the expensive suit which didnât quite disguise the gun in his breast pocket the man looked like any other foreign âminderâ. Which she supposed was the modern word for bodyguardâand she came across plenty of those in this line of work.
âHello.â She smiled. âMy name is Sienna Baker and I have an appointment with Mr Altair.â
A flicker of something she couldnât quite put her finger on passed over his impassive features, but he merely nodded and pushed the door to the apartment open. He stood by to let her pass but did not follow her inside, and as the door clicked shut behind her Sienna felt inexplicably apprehensive. As if she was closed in. Trapped. Though agoraphobia would be the last thing she should be suffering from in a room of these dimensions.
She looked around her, her senses swamped by the sudden crowding of different sensations which began to jostle for supremacy in her mind.
For a moment she was dazzled by the sheer impact of the light which spilled in from the enormous windows, and she screwed her eyes up in confusion as the faintest trace of a disturbingly familiar scent began to drift towards her. The exotic smell both tantalised her and began to make her stomach twist painfully, and she couldnât work out why.
And then she saw the man standing completely still with his back to her, silhouetted against the London skylineâtall and dark and lean and proud, as if he had been carved from some black and unforgiving rockâand Sienna felt the blood drain from her face as he moved, like a statue coming to life.
She sucked in a breath of disbelief as her eyes flickered over him, her mind screaming out its protest as she began to register every detail about him. The slick black hair with the faint wave to it. The broad shoulders and the long legs. The arrogant and autocratic stance. Oh, please, no. Please. No. But now the scent which pervaded the suite became more understandableâand wasnât smell supposed to be the most evocative of all the senses?
Did she whimper or make a sound? Was that why he had begun to turn around? And now the breath caught in her throat as she began to issue a silent and heartfelt prayer. She prayed like she hadnât done for a long, long time, since she had been begging some mysterious presence to take the pain away. If no one had been listening then, then let them be listening now.
Donât let it be him. Oh, please donât let it be him. But her heart plummeted like a stone as he turned to face her.
Hashim surveyed her with cold and glittering black eyes, acknowledging the heavy stab of desire in his loins with a grim kind of pleasure, remembering the splayed abandon of her legs the last time he had seen her, and the aching only increased.
He had long denied himself this moment because he had told himself that he could, but in the end desire had proved irresistible. Hashim despised the weakness which made him want her, yet he embraced it, too.
And he intended to savour every moment of it. This woman who had deceived him would pay, and she would pay with her body!
He let the narrowed ebony gleam of his eyes linger on her figure, to see if time had marred its perfection, but it was as firm and as lushly slim as a prized young Salukiâthe silky-sleek hunting dogs much favoured by the tribes of his native land.
It was hard to pin down what made her quite so desirableâfor hers was not a fashionable look. She was too petite and curvy for modern tastes, yet her body was to die for. And if you added to that the ingredients of innocence and sensualityâŠ
Innocence!
Hashimâs mouth hardened as he thought of what a sham appearances could be.
He let his gaze drift upwards, to her face. How white her skin was, he observed with impartial interestâand how contrasting the deep rose of her lips. Ah, those lips! One of the very first things he had noticed about her had been her natural pout, which some women spent thousands of dollars at plastic surgeons trying to recreate.
Now those same lips trembled under his scrutiny, and he longed to crush their petal softness beneath the hard, seeking warmth of his own. But that would have to waitâŠand the waiting would only increase his eventual pleasure.
âSienna,â he murmured as the warm throb of blood beat between his legs.
The way he said it took her back to somewhere which was out of bounds, and her heart buckled with pain as she stared at the man she had once believed herself to be in love with.
He was both ugly and beautiful, his face uniqueâdefined by hard contours and the ravages of warfare. An exotic, foreign face. The cruel beak of a nose and harsh slash of his mouth only added to his allure, and those clever black eyes could make a woman feel as if he was slowly stripping her bareâŠ
Seeing him again was a moment she had lived out in her mind over and over againâthough not much lately, it was true. But wasnât it simply human nature to wonder how she would react if ever she saw him again? As time had passed she had convinced herself that the sobbing wreck of her early days had been replaced by a confident woman who would give him a cool smile and say, Hashim! Well, long time no see!
How wrong she had been. How very wrong and how very stupid. As if any woman could look at a man like that without wanting to melt into a helpless puddle of longing at his feet. But the longing was eclipsed by another emotion, and that was warinessâŠor was it fear? What the hell was he doing here?
âHashim,â she whispered, like someone waking from a long dream. âIs it really you?â
âIt really is.â His hard eyes mocked her, enjoying her discomfiture in a way he had not enjoyed anything for a long time. âYou seem surprised, Sienna.â
âSurprise implies something pleasant,â she said shakily.
He arched heavy black brows in sardonic query. âAnd this is not?â
âOf course itâs not!â Nervously, she flicked her tongue over her lips to moisten them, and then wished she hadnât, for his black eyes were drawn to the movement as a snake to the charmerâs pipe. âIâm shockedâlike anyone would be.â
âI disagreeâa lot of women might be delighted to see a man who had once featured in their lives, but I guess itâs different in your case.â
Her eyes pleaded with him to stop, but he did not, and his hard mouth twisted into a cruel imitation of a smile.
âI expect your past is always coming back to unsettle you in all kinds of waysâbut you have only yourself to blame, my dear. If you didnât keep so many unsavoury secrets, then you might be able to sleep a little easier.â He allowed his eyes to linger on the exquisite swell of her breasts and the swift shaft of desire became blunted with the memory of betrayal. His mouth hardened. âThough I canât imagine any man letting you sleep easy at night.â Except maybe him. The mad, duped fool who had protected her and respected her. Who had cherished her as if she had been a delicate and priceless piece of porcelain.
And then seen her crushed into smithereens before his eyes.
But he was a fool no moreâŠthat day had goneâŠnever to return.
Sienna wanted to tell him not to stare at her that way, but she knew if she did that then he would do it all the more. He was not a man to be thwarted or dictated to, and in his hard black eyes was the glitter of danger. She swallowed, terrified to ask the question because of what the answer might be. Until she told herself that this was just some horrible, unfortunate coincidenceâit had to beâŠ
Or was it? Suddenly she wasnât so sure. Did anything ever happen completely by chance?
âWhat are you doing here, Hashim?â
He thought how easily his name came to her lips. How little she realised the honour accorded to her by being able to speak it so freely where most women would dip their eyes in deference! Even the sophisticated women in his lifeâand there had been manyâhad always been slightly in awe of his power and position. He stared at her, and the anticipation of what he was about to do made his blood sing with pleasure. âYou know very well why I am here,â he reprimanded silkily.
For a second her world was suspended in a moment of disbelief as she was frozen by the stark sensual intent in his eyes. And it was as if just that one sizzling look had begun something which her unresisting body was powerless to stop. She shook her head, trying to stop the stealthy and hated shiver of desire. âNo, I donât.â
âShame on you, Siennaâis this how you always react when you are booked in to have a business meeting? You are being paid to organise a party for meâremember?â
His soft, mocking words made her throat close over with fear and she swallowed it down. There was no way she could have any kind of meeting with himâbusiness or otherwise. He must know that!
âNo!â she said, as calmly as she could. But as she shook her head the heavy weight of her piled-up hair wobbled, as if itching to cascade down her back.
âThatâs not what I meant, and you know it!â She looked around her with slight desperation, as if any minute now she would suddenly wake up and discover that the whole incident had been some ghastly nightmare. âIâm supposed to be meeting a Mr Altair!
Not you.â
He gave a cold smile. âBut âMr Altairâ is me, Sienna. Didnât you realise?â His smile grew even colder, even though the undulating movement of her hair made him ache to unpin it and set it free. Free to tumble onto the warm nakedness of his chest. And his bellyâŠ
âAltair is one of my many aliases,â he drawled.
âSurely I used it when I knew you?â
âNo,â she whispered. âNo, you didnât.â
âAh. So much changes with the passage of time, does it not, Sienna? What else has changed, I wonder?â
She felt like a woman who had woken up in an alien place, where all the rules of survival had changed, and she knew that she had to take controlânot just of herself but of the situation, too. She was no longer a young girl, besotted and completely fixated by a man who was light-years away from her in terms of experience. The wrong man, she reminded herself painfully.
With an effort, she gave him a smile. A rueful, grown-up smile. âLook, Hashim, I presume that now youâve seen me youâve changed your mind. We arenât going to be able to do thisâyou know we arenât.â
His eyes glittered with provocation. âTo whatâŠpreciselyâŠdo you refer? What arenât we going to be able to do, Sienna?â
She didnât rise to the sexual taunt. If she kept it on a business level then she might be safeâbut if she allowed the discussion to stray into the personal orâeven worseâthe past, then she really was in danger.
âBut what are you doing here?â she questioned, still with the last vague hope that things were not what they seemed. âWhen you always stay at the Granchester?â
âMaybe I find that the memories there are too tainted,â he mocked. âOr maybe I find that I just canât resist the attractions on offer hereâŠâ Once again he let his eyes linger with insolent hunger on the swell of her magnificent breasts. âYourâŠreputation in the capital is growing, Sienna,â he added silkily.
She didnât suppose he was alluding to her backlog of satisfied clients. It was not a compliment at all, but a thinly veiled insult, implyingâŠimplyingâŠOh, she knew damn well what he was implying! Feeling as though her lungs had been scorched, she sucked in a breath to steady herself. âBut presumably youâre not expecting me to work with you,â she said quietly.
He gave a heady, husky laugh of anticipation. âFor an employee you sure as hell make a lot of presumptions. It could get you into a lot of trouble if youâre not careful.â
She had forgotten what a curious mixture he was, of the ancient and the modern, the forward-thinking and the ludicrously old-fashioned. He was one of the most intelligent men she had ever metâso why the hell was he deliberately misunderstanding her reservations? âOh, Hashimâdonât be soâŠdense!â
âDense?â He tilted his chin imperiously and his eyes narrowed into glittering ebony shards. âYou dare to address meâa sheikhâin such a way?â
In the past he had never pulled rankâbut then he hadnât needed to. She hadnât cared about his positionâhadnât even known about it to start with. And by the time she did it hadnât mattered. Or at least sheâd thought it hadnâtâbut that was yet another indication of just how out of her depth she had been. Because of course it had.
It had mattered a lot.
