Page 60 of Desert King's Forbidden Temptation

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on his door and he braced for this moment, this conversation—one of the most important in his life.

‘Come.’

He stood, aware of every limb and cell in his body. He grew hard with anticipation but schooled himself to calm down. After all, a lifetime of denial was about to begin. He hoped.

It was not, however, Eloise Ashworth who strode through the doors, but rather Jamil, his good friend and advisor.

‘You,’ Tariq grunted, crossing his arms.

‘Good morning to you as well, Your Highness,’ Jamil said with a hint of humour. ‘You’re up early.’

‘I’ve been up all night, in fact.’

‘Marriage negotiations?’

He flinched. The words felt like a betrayal. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘You asked for that woman from the Ras Sarat delegation to join you?’

‘And you are not her,’ Tariq pointed out.

‘Not last time I looked.’ Jamil grinned, clearly not reading the Sheikh’s mood.

‘Where is she?’ It was early, Tariq reasoned. Perhaps she was still asleep and the servants didn’t want to wake her. Even at his command? That seemed unlikely.

‘She left last night.’

Tariq’s heart ceased to beat. The world stopped spinning. Everything was frozen solid. Only his breath punctuated the room in harsh little spurts.

‘That’s not possible.’ There had to be some mistake. Jamil didn’t even know her name, he simply referred to her as ‘that woman from Ras Sarat’. How much could he know about her?

‘I helped arrange her transportation myself,’ Jamil said casually, with no idea of the rage that was building inside Tariq. Rage without focus, just all-consuming, devastating rage. ‘Apparently there was a conflict in her schedule. She was quite adamant she couldn’t wait until this morning.’

She’d run away from him.

She’d fled.

She’d never had any intention of discussing their situation further. She’d left, without saying goodbye. He pressed his palms to the desk.

‘The other delegates have remained. This shouldn’t affect today’s meetings.’

Tariq dropped his head, staring at the desk.

‘Your Highness?’

Tariq didn’t respond.

‘Tariq?’ Jamil was closer now, directly opposite the Sheikh. ‘What’s going on?’

But something occurred to Tariq, and he grabbed hold of it. ‘Who was driving her?’

‘I don’t know. One of the royal guards. Why?’

‘Find out who, and where they are. It’s been what, ten hours of driving? That might have taken them close to the Savisian border, but probably not. And ready a helicopter.’

‘Tariq, you’re not making any sense.’

‘No, I’m probably not.’

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