chief of security came on the line after the first ring.
“How did they get in? I want a report the second you find something,” he told the man in Arabic. “I want the whole building in lockdown until everyone inside is verified. And I want a digital copy of the security tapes e-mailed to me immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
He handed the phone back and focused on the foreign woman who was watching him with morbid fascination. She looked even more impossibly beautiful than his first impression had been—high cheekbones, delicate features, eyes the golden brown color of a perfectly ripe, sweet fig. Eyes that held wariness and secrets, and a certain amount of plucky determination.
Then it clicked.
Media.
A less disciplined man would have groaned. She probably wanted an interview for some foreign paper. Sheer bad luck that she had caught him at a moment like this. There’d be no way now to keep the attack out of the papers. She’d be impossible to shake off. But he had other things to do, which meant he had to get her—and the distractions she brought—out of his life as fast as possible.
“At which hotel are you staying?”
She drew a deep breath and pulled her spine straight. “I need to talk to you first. I’m looking for Aziz.”
His fists clenched. He made a point to relax them. Not a reporter then. Aziz. Of course. He should have known.
Aziz had always been the lucky one between the two of them, the ladies’ man, or as some Western tabloids had once called him, the Playboy Sheik. Aziz had been in his element at the high-society events of Cannes and Monaco, and had kept a party house—with Hollywood celebrity neighbors—in Miami on Star Island. He’d lived the high life and pursued a wide range of interests, had dabbled in everything from yacht racing to desert archaeology.
“And who are you?” he asked.
“Julia Gardner.” She extended her hand. Some of her color had come back. Her skin was now the palest of pinks. A tangle of bead bracelets encircled her slim wrist.
He didn’t move.
She pulled back immediately. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Sorry. Force of habit. I have trouble remembering all these strange rules.” She snapped her full mouth shut. That lasted only a second. “Not that I think your country is strange. Just strange to me. New. New to me. I—”
“No offense taken.”
“You look just like your brother.” The words spurted from her before she pressed her full lips together once again.
His mood darkened. Maybe at one point Aziz and he had looked alike—they were identical twins. But nobody had dared compare them for a long time now, not since a childhood accident had taken the sight of Karim’s right eye, leaving a hideous scar on his face. “You knew Aziz well?”
She glanced away.
So, Julia Gardner, too, had some trouble looking at his face, despite her earlier bravado. He resisted the impulse to shift into his usual half turn.
“We met when he was in Baltimore a couple of months ago,” she was saying. “I haven’t been able to reach him and I came here and—Look, I just want to talk to him. The man at the front desk told me I should ask you.” She kept her hands clasped together tightly in her lap, but her shoulders were drawn straight and tall.
“Aziz is gone.” The muscles in his jaw pulled tight. The pictures that flashed into his mind brought raw pain every time. He’d been closer to his twin brother than to anyone else in the world. The hot rage over the unfairness of Aziz’s death hadn’t diminished any in the month since his funeral. Nor had Karim’s desire to seek revenge.
The corners of her eyes crinkled with worry, which she tried to mask with a nonchalant smile. “When is he coming back?”
He forced air into his constricting lungs. “We had a well explosion last month.”
He could see when she understood finally. Shock and pain flashed through her eyes. She stood, agitated, a hand pressed to her stomach, then opened her full, lush mouth, but no words came out. Color drained from her face all over again. She swayed.
He caught her and helped her fold to the gurney.
“She fainted, sir.” The paramedic who sat in the corner, trying his best to remain invisible and give them privacy, moved forward and managed to clip a monitor on her index finger without actually touching her. Her vital signs showed on the small screen behind him.
Fainted. Karim blinked and let her go, stepped away from her. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t have time for her. Period.
He would absolutely not allow her to sully Aziz’s memory with scandal. He was fairly certain about why she was here. She wasn’t the first. Others had come looking for Aziz after his international trips. They wanted to keep the party going, have access to Aziz’s wealth and a shot at becoming one of oil-rich Beharrain’s latest princesses.
She was too late. He watched her. Miss Gardner might not know it yet, but she was leaving on the next plane out of the country.
It seemed perversely insane that he was actually looking forward to going a few rounds with her before her stubborn nature would accept that decision.
He was ready to give her his ultimatum, but she still didn’t stir.
His annoyance with her switched to concern. She did look vulnerable, her skin losing color again, all that hair tangled around her. She looked like an angel, injured after falling to earth. “What’s wrong with her?”
He preferred that stubborn chin of hers thrust forward, as she faced him down, even if she were here to cause trouble.
He wouldn’t let her.
“Could be from the stress or heat exhaustion. She’s probably not used to our climate.” The paramedic was administering an IV, again with the absolute minimum of touching. Then he drew blood into several vials. “If we went to the hospital, they could do tests as soon as we got there.”
Karim rested his gaze on her face. She hadn’t wanted to go to the hospital, had been pretty adamant about it. And he’d told her he wouldn’t take her there. “Call ahead and have Dr. Jinan meet us at my house. You can take the blood to the hospital and call over when the results are ready.”
He was about to take the troublesome angel home. He ignored the voice in his head that said he would probably live to regret his decision.
JULIA WOKE IN a strange bed in a strange and ridiculously opulent room, with a strange woman peering over her. An IV bag was attached to her arm. She panicked for a second, her gaze darting around. Her hand slid to her abdomen under the cover. No pain there. “What happened to me?”
“Hi, I’m Dr. Jinan.” The woman smiled. She wore a gold-threaded, deep blue abaya, no veil. Her startlingly sharp eyes, which were lined with kohl, fixed on Julia. “You were near an explosion and fainted afterward.”
Disjointed memories rushed her, and Julia pulled the silk
