pulled her up, that he wanted to kiss her senseless.
Her cheeks still burned when she remembered how she’d kissed him back in Makhtar. Stupid dreams! Look at the trouble they got her into!
She’d tried to keep her distance from Sharif, keeping her focus on Aziza, as they went next to a different mall, where she saw a fish aquarium larger than a building, billed as the largest in the world. There were so many shops, people walking through them dressed in every way from tank tops and shorts to black abayas and face-hiding burqas. Although even they, if you looked closely enough, had high heels peeping out from beneath their hems, and carried ten-thousand-dollar handbags carelessly under their arms.
Watching Sharif buy so many things for his sister, Irene suddenly regretted she hadn’t contacted her mother or sister for a year, other than sending them money from her salary. She bought her mother a floral tea set of bone china and a box of baklava from Lebanon, and for her sister a touristy canvas handbag with DUBAI printed on it with big block letters and pink butterflies. She had it all shipped back home. After buying herself a bag of tasty treats from the biggest candy store she’d ever seen, she was done. Today they’d gone to the Gold Souk, but as Aziza and Basimah pawed through jewelry, Irene’s feet had hurt and she couldn’t stop yawning. The other two women had shopping stamina that put Irene to shame.
Even Sharif seemed to have infinite patience. He advised his younger sister on her purchases when asked, but always deferred to her choice. Perhaps he wasn’t a total disaster as an older brother, she thought grudgingly. Even if he was a total disaster for her.
Irene stretched out her body in the warm water, letting all her aches and tensions dissolve, letting her troubles float up to disappear into the soft, humid, starry night. Strange to be alone out here. She’d never imagined that she, Irene Taylor from Lone Pine, Colorado, who’d had her lunch box smashed her first day in kindergarten, and been pelted with insults she hadn’t even understood back then, would someday leave that misery behind and live half a world away, in a glamorous villa filled with royalty.
She sighed with pleasure. Aziza had gone upstairs to take photos of her haul to send to friends. Basimah was having a cozy game of cards with the cook. Sharif had disappeared to make phone calls, presumably about affairs of state in Makhtar.
So Irene had pulled on her modest one-piece black swimsuit, wrapped her body in a towel and sneaked outside.
She’d meant only to swim in the villa’s enormous pool. But as the sun had lowered in the sky, she’d found it impossible to resist the streaks of orange and persimmon light sparkling on the gulf. Would the water really feel as hot as a bathtub?
She’d looked around to see if anyone was watching, seen only the distant bodyguards and gates on the edges of the private beach. It seemed like overkill, in a city as bright and modern and safe as Dubai felt to her, but then everything about Sharif’s security arrangements always seemed like overkill.
Though when she remembered his heartbreaking story about his parents, she could almost understand why he would go to such extremes for security. And why he would believe romantic love was either illusion, or poison.
Can you understand what it is like, to despise someone to the depths of your soul, and know you’ll still be forced to call her your wife? To have a child with her?
Every time Irene remembered his bleak voice, she shuddered. Marrying someone you hated so much, sharing your life with them, your home, your children? It would destroy everything about Sharif. Everything that was, beneath his arrogant bossiness, so bright and alive. The marriage would be corrosive to him as acid.
The thought caused a hard pain in her chest. He would keep his honor. Maintain his country’s stability. But at what cost?
Perhaps she’d discuss that with him, convince him that...
No. Bad idea. She needed to try to avoid intimate conversations, not encourage them. The last thing she wanted to do was feel anything more for him than she already did. She couldn’t let herself see the emotion beneath his mask. She couldn’t let herself feel his feelings, any more than she could reach out to feel him in her arms.
The Emir of Makhtar was not for her, and he never would be. Not in any way she could accept.
In three months, she would go home. She’d take care of her family, go to college. Maybe she’d be a teacher. She wouldn’t give up on the life she wanted. Not for a momentary temptation, no matter how strong the temptation might be. When she loved a man, she would give him everything, or else nothing at all...
Lying on her back in the soft waves of the Persian Gulf, she looked up at the stars in the deepening night. If she turned her head one way, she could see the skyscrapers of the Dubai Marina towering overhead. If she looked the other, she could see in the distance the populated, man-made islands that were carved into the shape of a palm tree.
But here, floating in the water, she was totally alone, just her and the moon and the infinite stars in the dark, velvety sky. She closed her eyes, feeling the water caress her skin.
Then she felt a man’s hands beneath her. Her eyes flew open and she saw the outline of Sharif’s dark head in the moonlight, the gleam of his black eyes. Startled, she fell, putting her feet down in the sand and whirled to face him in the water.
“Sharif,” she breathed. “What are you—” She caught herself. “I mean, good evening, Your Highness...”
“We’re alone.” His eyes burned through her. “You don’t have to be polite.”
She stiffened, narrowing her eyes. “In that case, I’ll say what I’ve been thinking for the last three days. What the hell are you doing? Distracting Aziza with piles of cheap gifts...just so she can impress her shallow friends—”
“They weren’t cheap, I assure you.”
“This is her life we’re talking about.” Her eyes filled with tears. “She’s too young to realize the choice she’s making.”
He stood in front of her, his muscular chest tanned and bare, both of them swayed by the gentle roll of the water in the darkness.
“We become older by the choices we make,” he said. “By the responsibilities we take—or don’t take. You know this already. How old were you when you started taking on responsibilities for your family—responsibilities that should never have been yours? Was that your choice? Or were you just doing what you had to do?”
She felt the sandy bottom beneath her feet. The water was high—all the way to her chest, and up to his ribs. The water’s gentle waves swayed their bodies. One hard wave could push them together. “We’re not talking about me.”
“We are now.”
“You don’t understand what you are making her give up. If she marries without love, she’ll never be happy, ever.”
“And you think you will?” He took a step toward her, his black eyes glittering. “You’re so desperate to save your pure body for marriage. But how will you know the difference between love and lust, Irene? You who have never known either one? What will stop you from throwing your life away to the first man who makes your body come alive?”
Every inch of her body felt alive right now. She felt the waves caressing her overheated skin as she looked up at his handsome, angry face. She licked her lips. “I...I’ll just know...”
“You
