that, hadn’t he? He’d offered her a glimpse of what a normal life could be like—with pubs and restaurants and trips to the cinema. He’d changed her from the geeky young woman who had walked so hesitantly into his life and made her into someone he wasn’t ashamed to be seen with. She’d been so grateful for that … grateful to him.
Refusing pudding and the brandy which Simon accepted with alacrity, Frankie was relieved when at last the dinner was over and it was time to leave—though she noticed that they weren’t presented with anything as vulgar as a bill. She saw one of the bodyguards speaking to the maître d’ and assumed that he had dealt with the financial transaction.
‘Th-thanks very much, Zahid,’ said Simon as he rose unsteadily to his feet.
But the sheikh’s attention was focused solely on Frankie. ‘You’re sure you’re going to be okay getting home?’ he questioned, with a frown.
‘I’ve only had water all night,’ she said.
‘It’s dark. I can have one of my aides drive the car for you?’
She smiled. How old-fashioned he could be! ‘I’m perfectly capable of driving home, thank you, Zahid—and I’m fine in the dark. My eyesight is perfect and it’s only just down the road!’
But Zahid wasn’t happy. Not happy at all. He watched while Francesca was handed her coat by the cloakroom attendant. It was a cheap-looking thing, in his opinion—and as she slid it over her shoulders it covered up the milky-pale flesh of her arms, which had drawn his eye throughout the meal.
Would Simon be removing the coat and then the dress later? he wondered—and a spear of some unknown emotion shot through him. It made his blood feel thick and his groin heavy. It felt like desire but it was underpinned with something else. Something dark and bitter and unpalatable. Surely … He shook his head. Surely it wasn’t jealousy? Why on earth would he be jealous of little Francesca O’Hara’s lover—when he could have any woman he wanted?
Except that she wasn’t so little any more, was she? Not in any sense. Not in height, or … He swallowed. Surely the last time he’d seen her, she’d been completely flat-chested? Or had the slouchy clothes she used to favour done her no favours?
‘Thanks so much for the meal, Zahid.’
She was smiling up at him now—the curve of her lips putting deep dimples in her cheeks the way it had done all those years ago, and he was hit by a renewed wave of protectiveness.
He found himself remembering the time when, as a lively ten-year-old, she had scrambled into a huge tree looking for a lost shuttlecock and managed to get herself stranded there. He had climbed up into the branches and rescued her, quietening her teeth-chattering fear with a few teasing words of admonishment. And she had put her arms around his neck and clung to him like a little monkey.
He should have been there for her when her father had died. Why the hell hadn’t his brother reported back to him that she was vulnerable? And she was vulnerable. Even now. Anyone could see that.
He saw Simon giving a young waitress an easy smile, the careless crinkling of his eyes the tell-tale sign of the practised flirt. But Francesca didn’t seem to have noticed.
Zahid watched as she buttoned up her thin coat, the ostentatious engagement ring glittering on her finger, and his mouth tightened. A man would have to spend a lot of money to buy a diamond that size, he thought suddenly. A man who was a lot more committed than her pretty-boy fiancé seemed to be.
‘You’re going back home soon, are you, Zahid?’ Francesca was asking.
She was leaning towards him and he caught an elusive drift of her scent—which smelt of rain-washed rose petals—and a distracting shiver began to whisper its way over his skin.
‘Mmm?’ he questioned distractedly.
She dimpled him another smile. ‘I feel so guilty— we’ve hardly said a word about you all evening, and I love hearing about Khayarzah.’
‘Please don’t feel guilty,’ said Zahid as he nodded over at one of his bodyguards to indicate that they were ready to leave. ‘We shall be meeting very soon and I will tell you everything you wish to know.’
Frankie smiled uncertainly. Was he just making polite conversation? Unlikely. Yet they both knew how uncommon his visits to England were, especially these days. But suddenly, she could see that it was probably a good thing that their paths didn’t cross very often. Too much of Zahid Al Hakam could make a woman feel very discontented with her lot. ‘What, you mean next year?’ she joked.
‘No, not next year, but next week,’ he corrected silkily. ‘I have business in mainland Europe all this week—but after that, I’ll come back.’
‘Come back?’ questioned Frankie nervously, turning her head to look for Simon and wondering what that waitress could be saying to him, which was making him look so engrossed. ‘Come back where?’
‘Don’t look so scared, Francesca—I just meant that we still have a lot of catching up to do.’ Zahid’s eyes flicked over to Simon, who was now leaning even closer to the young waitress. ‘I’m sure your fiancé won’t object if I visit you again on my return.’
Like a goldfish, Frankie opened her mouth and shut it again. Because how could she possibly object? Even if Zahid hadn’t been a king whose requests could not be turned down from a protocol point of view—she could hardly tell him that she thought it was a bad idea, because she found him dangerous and unsettling as a man. Why, he would probably laugh in her face.
So she nodded obediently and hoped her misgivings didn’t show. ‘Okay. I’ll … I’ll look forward to it.’ ‘So will I,’ promised Zahid softly.
CHAPTER FOUR
IN THE days which followed the awkward restaurant meal Frankie tried to convince herself that the sheikh’s promise to return must have been made on the spur of the moment. He probably hadn’t meant it. It was the kind of flippant thing which people always said when they were leaving—“oh, we must meet up soon”—and then you didn’t see them for years.
But she was wrong. One of his aides rang and told her that he would be arriving on Saturday afternoon and that he wished to see her, alone.
Alone?
Uncomfortably, she touched her shiny new engagement ring—as if expecting it to suddenly disappear in a puff of smoke. Her conscience was making her feel slightly awkward and she had been worried what Simon would say. Was it wrong for her to have made an arrangement to see the king?
Nervously, she’d asked her fiancé about Zahid’s proposed visit, but it seemed that Simon didn’t mind at all. In fact, to Frankie’s surprise he seemed inordinately pleased by the idea.
‘Maybe he’s planning to give you a wedding present —hopefully in the form of some whacking great cheque,’ he said, when she told him.
‘That’s a very mercenary thing to say,’ objected Frankie.
‘I’m a businessman, sweetheart—being mercenary goes with the territory!’ He fiddled with his gold signet ring and shot her a sly glance. ‘Maybe you could get him to invest in some property while you’re at it? That colossal eyesore at the top of
