“I had thought she was going to follow you to Harvard.” That had been the story Mac had told him all those years ago. But had that just been a lie to earn Rafe’s trust as they bonded over difficult younger siblings?
“That was before our parents died. They went out for a flight on Dad’s plane and...” Mac sighed heavily. “She was so lost after the accident, you know? I hated that I wasn’t here for her when it happened.”
“I had not realized,” Rafe said sympathetically, even though of course he had realized. The McCallum family had suffered a terrible blow when Mac’s parents’ plane had crashed into an open field. There had been no survivors.
It all happened right after Rafe had been pulled out of Harvard by his father for daring to let his younger sister consort with the likes of Mac. Rafe had not found out the details of the accident for years afterward—after his own father had died and Rafe had suddenly had the means to investigate his enemies.
It had been a missed opportunity. If Rafe had been aware of the McCallums’ deaths at the time, he could have moved swiftly to buy Mac’s land out from under him or take over McCallum Enterprises. Instead, Rafe had to settle for watching and waiting for his next best opportunity to exact his revenge. He had not rushed. He was, as the Americans often said, playing the long game.
His patience had finally paid off when, last year, a tornado had torn through Mac’s hometown of Royal, Texas. The town’s economic base was weakened, which was good. But what was better was that Mac’s water supply had become compromised.
It was a particularly good scheme. Rafe would not only cut off Mac’s water supply and essentially strangle his ranch, but under the guise of Samson Oil, he would also buy up large parts of Royal. Mac had always spoken of his love for his hometown.
When Rafe was done with him, Mac would have nothing. No town, no land. That was what Mac had left Nasira with when he had betrayed Rafe’s trust and ruined Nasira.
Thus far, Rafe had been operating in secrecy. But when his scheme came to fruition, he wanted Mac to know it was he who had brought about his destruction.
Which was why he was here, pretending to be concerned for the well-being of his former friend’s sister. “Was it very hard on her?”
“Oh, man,” Mac said with a rueful smile. “I moved back home and tried to give her a stable upbringing, but never underestimate the power of a teenage girl. Hey, listen,” he went on, leaning forward and dropping his voice a notch. “I know that things didn’t end well between us...”
Rafe tensed inside but outside, he waved this poor excuse for an olive branch of peace away, as if he’d truly left the matter in the past. “It was all a long time ago. Think nothing of it.”
“Thanks, man. I never meant to hurt Nasira, but I swear to you, I had no idea she was in my room that night. It wasn’t what it looked like.”
Rafe’s mask of genial friendship must have slipped because Mac’s words trailed off. Rafe rearranged his face into one of concern. “It’s fine. She was able to marry a man who was more to her liking.” It was time for a subject change. “Your sister, Violet? It has been a long time.”
“Yeah—that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I try to keep her out of trouble, but if you, you know, could just keep an eye on her while you’re in town, I’d really appreciate it.”
Now this was ironic. Here Rafe was, doing everything within his power to avenge the honor of his sister and his family, and Mac, the source of all his troubles, was asking Rafe to look after Violet?
That would be a new layer to Rafe’s revenge—corrupting Mac’s sister just as Mac had corrupted Rafe’s.
“But of course,” Rafe said as he bowed his head, trying to look touched that Mac would extend him this much trust. The fool. He was making this too easy.
“My ears are burning.” Rafe heard the soft feminine—and familiar—voice seconds before its owner entered the room. “What are you two...talking...”
She stood in the doorway, her mouth open, all the color draining from her cheeks.
Rafe’s body responded before his brain could make sense of what he was seeing. His gut tightened and his erection stiffened and one word presented itself in his mind—mine. The reaction was so sudden and so complete that Rafe was momentarily disoriented. This woman was lovely, yes, but her body was not the kind that usually invoked such an immediate, possessive response from him.
Then the conscious part of his brain caught up with the rest of him and he realized exactly who she was.
She looked different in the light of day. Rafe had not known her in such mannish clothing—jeans and work shirts. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck and her face was scrubbed clean.
But he recognized her nonetheless.
V.
His mind spun in bewilderment. His mysterious, beautiful V was here? The woman he had been unable to put from his mind was...in Mac’s home?
Mac stood and Rafe stood with him. This was an...unexpected development. He would have to brazen it out as best he could. “Ah, here you are. Violet, this is my old college friend, Rafe bin Saleed.”
“Bin Saleed?” she said, her eyes so wide they were practically bursting out of her head. “Bin?”
“Um, yeah,” Mac said, his gaze darting between the two of them. “Rafe, this is my little sister, Violet.”
V was Violet. V was his mortal enemy’s younger sister.
Destiny had a twisted sense of humor.
Inwardly, he was kicking himself, as the Americans said. Rafiq bin Saleed did not randomly bring a woman back to his bed. He did not seduce her and strip her and he most certainly did not send her love notes the next morning. He was a sheikh. He had no need for those things. His one night of passion with the exact wrong woman could threaten twelve years of planning.
Outwardly, however, he kept his composure. Years of facing his father’s wrath had trained him well in remaining calm in the face of danger. He had to put a good face on this. His scheme had not yet come to fruition, and if Violet placed him in the greater Royal area four months before his “arrival” today, everything could be at risk.
All his schemes could fall apart in front of him, all because he had been unable to resist a beautiful woman.
Unless...a new thought occurred to him. Unless Violet already knew of his schemes. Unless she had been sent by her brother to find him all those months ago. Unless Mac had anticipated Rafe’s attack and launched a counterattack while Rafe was distracted by a beautiful smile and a gorgeous body.
But she had insisted on no names. He had never used his real name, just as she had hidden hers. Was it possible that she had really just been looking for a night’s passion?
He had no choice but to continue to play the part of the long-lost friend. He couldn’t show his hand just because he had accidentally slept with this woman. “Violet,” he said, letting the hard T sound of her name roll off his tongue, just as so many other things had rolled off his tongue. He bowed low to her, a sign of respect in his culture.
