Page 16 of Seduced By the Sheikh

“I wish to get to know your administration so I could see where I can fit in.”

“You don’t fit in. You are my wife, not one of my administrators.”

Her mouth dried with fear. What was going on? Who was this stranger before her? He certainly bore little resemblance to the man who she’d known so intimately last night. She forced herself to breathe evenly. She refused to be cowed. She knew fear could be sensed and exploited. She’d learned that from her father.

“And can’t your wife also work to help her new country and husband?”

“I don’t need your help.”

“My father valued my help.”

He scoffed. “He so valued it he married you off at the first opportunity!”

She recoiled as if he’d struck her. She flexed her hands, which tingled with the pain of his attack. The work she’d done for her father had been all she’d had—the only place from which she’d derived any sense of self-worth. And Zak had just suggested it had meant nothing to her father. He had to be wrong.

“That was always going to happen,” she mumbled, unable to deny the truth of Zak’s statement completely. “I was a daughter and therefore… expendable.” She bit her lip to stop it from trembling, shocked by the attack from this man, her husband, a stranger. This wasn’t the man she’d been with last night. “But,” she nodded for emphasis, determined to regain her equilibrium. “I worked hard for my country and I believe I was an asset to it.” She sucked in a deep breath and looked up at him. His eyes softened slightly and her show of strength nearly dissolved into tears. She dug her nails into her palms. She should be used to such treatment, so why on earth was she being so emotional? But she knew why. She’d thought he was different, and she’d lowered her guard.

He sighed. “Of course,” he relented. “I’m sorry. What I meant to say is that we have capable people who can do the work.”

“But they are not a sheikha. They are not your queen. They do not speak four languages fluently, nor do they have a Masters in International Relations from the Sorbonne. Do you really imagine I could not be of use to you? Especially with the forthcoming diplomatic visit. I’ve met some of these people. I know how they work, what they like.” She paused, groping for some argument which would convince him. “Now your mother is no longer here, I can take her place. I can do the same things she did.”

His eyes suddenly grew hard again. “I don’t care how many languages you speak, you will not interfere with the running of my country!”

“Our country.”

He ignored her. “Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” she said, sweeping around him and out of the door. She paused. “If I am to be banished to the royal apartment, then perhaps you would at least grant me access to the outside world.” She looked away. She couldn’t lie to him while she faced him. “My laptop isn’t working.”

He shrugged. “Order one.”

“I need one immediately. There must be a spare one in the palace, surely?”

“I’ll have one sent to you.”

She walked away and only then allowed her eyes to fill with tears. She was shocked at the difference between the man who’d given her such pleasure and this man—so cold, so distant, treating her like a stranger. What was going on?

As she entered the apartment, she slipped off her robes and scarf and changed into a short white summer dress with shoestring straps. She brushed out the severe bun, allowing her hair to fall around her shoulders. In her country, they were less formal, and she needed to be in touch with her real self. She looked in the mirror, reassured she was still there, that Zak hadn’t managed to destroy her. She’d fight this because she had a whole life ahead of her with this man. Something would have to change, and it wouldn’t be her.

At that moment there was a knock at the door and Daria entered with the laptop she’d asked for, along with a login to access the apps which had been placed on the desktop. They were social media sites which women often used. Most women. But not her.

The palace officials must have imagined that she wouldn’t have the knowledge to navigate the filing system, which was far more rudimentary than her own country’s. But she soon found what she was looking for. She’d somehow neglected to tell her new husband, or any of his staff, that, as part of her undergraduate degree, she’d studied information management. If they’d shown the slightest interest, she’d have told them. But they hadn’t, so she hadn’t. And, as she opened the files, she was glad she hadn’t.

CHAPTER 8

Zak paced his office, unable to shake off the memory of the expression in Soraiya’s eyes when he’d found her there. Her beautiful green eyes had been wide with shock. But her surprise had swiftly turned into indignation, and the gold flecks he’d seen in those eyes last night had become fiery, making her green eyes a brighter green as she held her ground. They might be a different color to his mother’s, but they held the same strength of personality. The same eyes, about to do the same things his mother had done — take control. He would never allow it.

But, as he carried out his duties, listened to ministers and attended meetings, he also felt uncomfortable with what he’d done. He’d hurt her, and she’d had the courage to stand up to him. He hated that he’d hurt her, and he respected her courage. He’d make it up to her that night. She was just like any other woman who needed attention, and he could do that best in bed, with the lights out, without any reminders of how vulnerable he and his country were right now. He needed her and her country’s support. And there was only one way he knew to get it. He’d show her tonight.

Soraiya sat back and rubbed her eyes—dry from staring at a computer screen for hours—and stroked her fingers against her mouth, trying to reconcile the country she’d been told about by her father and ministers, to the reality of what she’d discovered within its state files. The latter didn’t lie. She could see computerization of the files was in the early stages but, even so, what she’d learned alarmed her. Financially and politically, Sirun was in dire straits. The king might not welcome her interference, but she knew he needed her help if the forthcoming trade talks were to be successful.

What she’d found in the files had contradicted what she’d been led to believe. The country which Zak had become king of and she, queen, was nearly bankrupt. But she couldn’t figure out why. No wonder Zak was anxious that she shouldn’t know the true economic state of Sirun.

She sighed and closed down the laptop. She felt exhausted by the hopelessness of what she’d read. She now knew shame had partly triggered Zak’s anger. He didn’t want her to know the extent of whatever mismanagement had occurred. And she had no idea how it had happened, but it was clear that it had. No, she’d not tell Zak she knew, not unless he asked her directly. Confrontation never got you anywhere. That much she knew from living with her father.

But how else to manage the situation? Soraiya was out of her depth and had no one to turn to. She’d never felt so alone. Her father might have been emotionally distant from her, but Ra’nan had always been home, the place of her birth, and she knew everyone around her. And her father’s vizier had been kind to her and had guided her through life. But he was no longer here, and she was quite alone.

She rose and walked out onto the balcony, which looked out onto the gardens. The day was about to draw to a close and in that moment when the light was caught in transition, neither dark nor light, but shrouding the world with mystery, she felt the beauty and allure of nature. It had always been a consolation to her, and she needed that comfort now more than ever. Without a further thought, she stepped down off the balcony, into the garden and entered another world.

---