some of her teen years. Without the ranch, she would have probably ended up on the streets, just another lost kid.
She owed a lot to the Hopechest Ranch and, ultimately, the Coltons for making such a place possible for children who either had nowhere to go or had no one who wanted them.
She’d been just such a child. But she wasn’t about to tell this man any such thing. Someone like Ali El-Etra would never understand what it was like to be alone in the world, never knowing where your next meal was coming from, never knowing if you’d have a roof over your head.
He had minions who did nothing but hand-paint maps for him. Obviously he’d never understand where she came from.
Ali continued. “My father is a descendant of the Kuwaiti royal family, and our family is the largest land-holder in our country, land that is rich with oil. Oil my country was not even aware of so many years ago, nor did they have any experience extracting that oil from the land. Joe Colton, on the other hand, had equipment, experience and an oil-rigging company.” Ali shrugged, not mentioning how close the El-Etras and the Coltons had become over the years. They’d been like a surrogate family to him, particularly during the years of unrest in his country, when his father, fearing for his safety, had sent him to America, to the Coltons, to live.
It was a painful time for Ali, a time when he’d been separated from his family, and when he’d lost his beloved Jalila.
Ali shook away the memories, preferring not to think of them. They were still far too painful.
“Together, Joe Colton and my father became not just partners and very close friends, but very, very successful men.” He shrugged, his massive shoulders moving beneath the custom-tailored suit. “It has worked out quite well for all concerned.”
Faith glanced around at the room. “Apparently,” she said with a nod and a smile. Her initial assessment of him had been accurate. He was an impossibly spoiled man who had no idea what it meant to work. A man who’d been handed everything in life. A man she could never relate to or understand.
She was proud of all that she’d worked for and accomplished on her own, without any help from anyone.
But then again there’d never been anyone to help her, she thought. She had no choice but to do everything on her own.
She shifted her gaze back to him. “So it’s daddy’s money you’re pledging to cover your investors.” She nodded thoughtfully, trying not to feel envious. “Now I understand.” Cocking her head, she met his gaze. “I imagine it’s easy playing at being successful when someone else is footing the bills.”
“My father’s money?” The words boomed out of his mouth. His face darkened, and an unrecognizable emotion swept through his eyes as he shot to his feet like a cannon.
“On the contrary, Ms. Martin. It is my money,” he corrected firmly, coming around the desk to stand in front of her. He was so close she caught a hint of his aftershave. It was something discreet, masculine, and absolutely intoxicating.
At a distance, he was impressive; standing so close, his presence was nearly overwhelming. She could see the tiny pinpoints of annoyance glinting from his dark eyes, eyes that were nearly hypnotizing. She could see the way his mouth tightened, thinned.
“Ms. Martin, I came to America and started El-Etra Investments on my own nearly ten years ago, without any assistance from my father or my family, financial or otherwise.” Feeling defensive, Ali glanced around the spacious room. “The only assistance my father has provided to me has been advice and counsel, something I value tremendously since he is not only successful, but a man of quality and integrity.”
He paused to level her with a gaze that almost had her quaking in her shoes. “My father was one of my very first clients, but make no mistake, Ms. Martin, my father is not a fool. He would never have entrusted or invested part of the family fortune in this firm if it was not a viable business enterprise.”
Faith watched him warily, the way she would eye a hungry rabid dog she’d suddenly stumbled upon.
Apparently she’d hit a nerve, one that was particularly sensitive. He was fairly quaking with anger, and his dark, fathomless eyes were hot enough to singe the hair on her head.
Apparently she’d really put her foot in her mouth this time.
Faith wanted to sigh as regret swept over her. She realized she needed to pull back, get some distance, emotionally and physically, and apologize.
She didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize this job. Not because he was of royal blood, or rich. Neither meant a hill of beans to her.
But his business did.
She needed it in order to secure the bank loan that would help her expand into larger offices and hire a few more consultants. But none of that was possible if she ticked off El-Etra and lost this account.
In spite of her own apparent disdain for the man and his lifestyle, she needed to remain emotionally uninvolved, not let her own personal feelings about his life, his reputation or his wealth affect her business sense.
Detached. Completely and totally detached. She had to remember that. Looking at him, she had a sinking feeling it was going to be easier said than done because he represented all the things she detested in a man.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, vividly aware that he was still standing just a few inches from her, far too close for comfort. Close enough for his male scent to tantalize and tease her senses. Close enough for her to see how attractive he really was. It was totally unnerving. “I didn’t mean to insult you or your family.”
“Family is a very sacred thing to me, Ms. Martin,” he said quietly, sincerely. Still, it sounded like a warning.
“I’ll try to remember that,” Faith said with a nod.
“Please do.” His eyes had cleared and his face had softened into a small smile. The man was far too gorgeous to be allowed to smile in public.
He looked at her carefully, as if studying her. “It would be a pity if I had to reconsider my position on beheading, don’t you think?”
Two
“T he thing I don’t understand, Ali, is how you’ve managed to stay in business this long?” Shaking her head, Faith took a sip of her soft drink and glanced across the conference table at him.
She’d been working on his systems nearly round-the-clock for the past three days, trying to navigate her way through the problems.
Lack of sleep, lack of food, and a headache had left her hot, tired and more than slightly irritable, but patience wasn’t her strong suit even on her best day.
She hoped this meeting didn’t take too long. The man still made her nervous, with his dark good looks and his impossible smile. Several times during the past few days she’d found her thoughts drifting back to their initial meeting.
The fact that she also found herself scouring the society pages each morning to see if his picture was there—invariably it was, with a different beautiful woman each day—had become a mild irritant, something she didn’t understand.
She was not the type of woman to spend her time mooning over a man. But she consoled
