Bound by the Sultan's Baby Read online

  Alim was arrogant enough to assume that Gabi would have no issues with what he was about to propose; after all, women never said no to him, and he was offering more to Gabi then he had to any woman in his life before.

  Aside from his commitment to his country, it was the biggest pledge he had made and Alim made it in the still of the night as she lay sleeping.

  The sky was grey and silver as the sun rose on a very cold Rome and he thought of her dress on the floor in another room and the soft warm body he held.

  Gabi felt the roam of his hands as she awoke and turned her face for a glimpse of Alim asleep but it was denied to her, for Alim was already awake and looking at her.

  He watched her eyes flicker open and her face turn to him. He wondered if he would see a grimace or a startle of panic as she recalled their night, but instead he watched as a smile stretched her lips and her sleepy eyes met his.

  ‘Best night,’ she said.

  It had been.

  And those were exactly the words he wanted to hear, for there was no tinge of regret in her smile and no confusion in her eyes.

  Only desire.

  And Alim still felt the same.

  During the hours Gabi had slept, Alim had been thinking.

  Yes, he still wanted more than one night.

  ‘Fleur did not pay for the wedding,’ he said, and watched her frown at the odd choice of topic, wrapped as they were in each other’s arms and a breath away from a deep morning kiss.

  She did not get yet that this was the most intimate conversation in the whole of Alim’s life.

  ‘It was my gift to Mona and James.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because James is my half-brother.’

  Her frown deepened and she ran a tongue over her lips as she tried to work things out; now that he had said it, she could see that James and Alim were related.

  Gabi had started to see that last night as she had watched the couple dance—or rather there had been something in James that had spoken to her.

  Now that she knew, Gabi felt almost foolish that she had not seen it more readily.

  ‘Fleur is my father’s mistress,’ Alim explained.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Gabi said.

  ‘Listen to me.’ Alim’s eyes and his tone told her that what he was saying was very important. ‘Fleur was my father’s lover but his father did not consider her a suitable bride. When she got pregnant with James, my grandfather summoned my father home and arranged his marriage to my mother, even though my father loved Fleur.’

  ‘Why did he agree to marry a woman if he loved another?’

  ‘Because he had little choice. His father was the Sultan of Sultans and his word is law; now that title belongs to my father.’

  He actually felt the goose-bumps rise on her arm. ‘And so what does that make you?’

  ‘A sultan, and one day I shall rule.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’

  ‘Because my father is here in the hotel and it won’t be long before the staff work out our connection. Soon you would have too.’

  ‘But why are you telling me now?’ she persisted.

  ‘Because things back home are changing. My father is unwell, so I am going to have to travel there a lot in the coming months...’ Still she stared at him with a puzzled look in her eyes so he made things a little clearer. ‘I want to spend more time with you when I am here in Rome. Last night I was going to ask you to work for me as the events co-ordinator at the Grande Lucia.’

  It was the offer of a lifetime.

  Stunning, in fact.

  It was the gateway to a shiny future and, Gabi realised, she may well have blown it for one night in his bed.

  But still, she thought, she would not change it for anything.

  ‘Is that offer being reconsidered in the light of certain events?’ Gabi asked.

  He smiled. ‘It is being amended.’

  And seriously so.

  ‘What about a one-year contract?’ he said.

  ‘One year?’

  ‘That frees you from Bernadetta; you would make many contacts here during that time.’

  ‘And is sleeping with me a part of that contract?’

  ‘Gabi.’ Alim heard her indignation but was calm in his response. ‘I think from last night it is clear we are not going to be able to work together and keep things strictly business. Of course, we will be discreet in front of the staff but...’

  ‘You’ve really got this all worked out, haven’t you?’

  ‘I’ve given it considerable thought, yes.’

  Gabi had walked in here last night without a doubt that it would be over by the morning.

  Certain of it.

  Reassured by it, in fact.

  For Alim was a self-confessed reprobate and her heart could not be dangled on elastic by him, waiting to be hauled to his bedroom one minute, ignored or discarded the next.

  She was shaken, seriously so.

  ‘What happens when someone else comes along?’

  She was direct with her questions and he liked that.

  ‘Alim, I take my career seriously...’

  ‘And I admire that you do,’ he responded. ‘I shan’t mess with it. And,’ he offered, which for Alim was a great concession, ‘there will be no one else.’

  ‘Why a year?’

  ‘Because I will be called home to marry.’

  How cruel that he held her as he said that.

  ‘Gabi.’ He had felt her stiffen. ‘Please, listen to me now. When Fleur fell pregnant my grandfather invoked a pre-marital diktat on my father. It is a harsh law, one intended to bring a reluctant groom to heel. Once invoked there can be no lovers, save for in the desert.’

  ‘The desert?’ she asked. ‘You mean a harem.’

  ‘That is what it meant then; they could have worked around it, but Fleur refused to be his desert mistress.’

  ‘I don’t blame her for that.’

  ‘By the time James was due to be born my mother was pregnant with me. Fleur gave birth in London; my father could not leave at the time. But later, once he had royal heirs, things were easier for them and my father was more free to travel...’

  Gabi didn’t want to hear it. She sat up and clutched the sheet around her ‘This conversation is medieval.’ She did not like what she was hearing—it unnerved her, in fact—but Alim calmly spoke on.

  ‘Perhaps when you see the doctor this morning you should speak about going on the Pill. I can call and arrange for him to see you here...’

  ‘I make my own appointments, Alim, and I don’t need to be told what to ask for.’ She shot him a look. ‘I don’t need to go on the Pill because I’m not going to be your mistress...’

  ‘Lover,’ Alim corrected, for they were two very different roles.

  ‘I am not going to be your lover for a year until your father summons you home.’

  ‘I have given it a lot of thought.’

  ‘Have you, now?’

  ‘I don’t see the issue.’

  ‘Your assumption, for a start.’

  She got out of bed and headed for the shower.

  Gabi was sore from last night and her head was whirling from all she had been told.

  And he was wrong about not messing with careers, Gabi thought as she showered.

  Wrapping a towel around her, she headed out and told him so.

  ‘What about Marianna? She’s given the Grande Lucia years of her life and you’d discard her like that.’ She tried to snap wet fingers; it didn’t work.

  ‘She wants to wind down her hours,’ Alim answered. ‘I would offer her a consulting role.’

  She looked at him and for a brief second he seemed not so ruthless but then his hand shot out, stripping off the towel, and she stood naked. He would be ruthless to her heart, she amended.

  But her body craved him.

  It would be foolish at best not to go on the Pill because all she wanted at this moment was to climb back into bed.

  ‘I know i
t’s a lot to take in,’ Alim said. ‘But at least give it some thought.’

  He did not understand her anger; most women pleaded for more time with him after all. ‘Would you prefer it to have been just a one-night stand?’

  ‘Yes.’ She actually laughed—somewhat incredulously. ‘Yes,’ she said again, for this was too much for her to deal with.

  ‘Liar.’

  She caught his eyes and her laughter died. Gabi swallowed, because he actually meant it, she was starting to realise.

  No!

  ‘A year at your bidding?’ she mocked.

  ‘It works both ways,’ Alim responded. ‘I would be at your bidding too.’

  He watched the colour spread up her cheeks and across her chest as she attempted indignation. He watched as she stood to pull on her knickers then sat back down to put on her bra.

  He sat up and did it up for her and then kissed the back of her neck.

  His tongue was thorough and he moved so he sat naked behind Gabi and kissed her neck harder as his hands played with her breasts.

  ‘Alim.’

  She was hot in the face and unable to stand and he knew it. Now one hand came down and slipped into her knickers. She was sore and swollen from last night, and his fingers were not there with the intent to soothe.

  This love would hurt.

  And it would be love, it possibly already was, but a year at his beck and call would only cement that fact.

  ‘Alim...’ She wanted to turn in his arms, to wrap herself around him, but he just upped the beats of pressure and kept bruising her neck with his mouth as she came.

  And then he released her.

  Somehow Gabi stood.

  ‘The offer’s there,’ he told her.

  And the pleasure might have been hers, but Alim knew it had been worth the restraint from him, for now they ached for each other.

  It was the greatest feat of her life to dress and leave, yet she needed the ice of the winter morning just to learn how to breathe again, and somehow think.

  But the confusion he’d spun her into was not yet complete.

  Alim leant over and opened a drawer to his beside.

  The rumours were true, for there, in a small dish, as one might display after-dinner mints, was a collection of diamonds.

  They sparkled in the wintry light, they beguiled, and one alone could make the months ahead so much easier for Gabi.

  ‘Choose one,’ Alim said. ‘And then tomorrow—’

  ‘I shan’t be your whore.’

  ‘In my country the tradition is—’

  ‘We’re in Rome, Alim,’ she interrupted, and her lips pressed together in anger. Gabi shot him a look and then walked into the lounge and straight to her purse.

  He made her feel confident. She felt emboldened.

  Somehow he gave her permission to be completely herself.

  And that self was cross!

  ‘Here...’ She opened up her purse and emptied the entire contents onto the bed. It wasn’t much—a lot of coins and a few notes—but she tipped them all out and made him the whore now. ‘Treat yourself, baby,’ Gabi said.

  As she walked out, to the surprise of both of them, Alim laughed.

  He never laughed, and certainly not in the morning, yet here he was doing just that.

  And, as the door slammed, Alim knew but one thing.

  He wanted her back in his bed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘THE SULTAN OF SULTANS is ready to receive you.’

  Alim thanked Violetta when she called to inform him that his father was finally ready for him.

  He had showered and dressed in black linen trousers and a fitted white shirt and then impatiently awaited the summons.

  Alim had been looking forward to breakfast with the newlyweds, to being able to speak more freely with them.

  Now, though, he was also looking forward to the rest of the day.

  To the upcoming year.

  He knew he had overwhelmed Gabi and that it was all too much to take in, but once she had thought it through, Alim was certain there was hope for them.

  Alim looked forward not just to the nights ahead but to the working days, for he had loved this hotel on sight. Shabby, cheaply renovated, he had poured much into it and breathed it back to life. With Gabi as the new functions co-ordinator there was much to look forward to on many levels.

  Violetta was waiting outside the Royal Suite. She gave Alim a smile as he approached, then three short knocks on the door to announce Alim’s arrival. He opened it and stepped in, expecting to greet his family, but instead there was only his father.

  ‘Alim.’ Oman’s voice was not particularly welcoming.

  ‘Where are James and Mona?’ Alim asked once he had bowed.

  ‘On their way to Paris,’ Oman said. ‘I asked that they join me a little earlier.’

  ‘I am sure they would have appreciated the early morning call the day after their wedding.’

  Sarcasm was wasted on his father, Alim knew.

  Still, he had long since realised that if he wanted a relationship with James then he had to forge that for himself.

  When Alim had found out he had a half-brother, instead of quietly ignoring it, as would have been his parents’ preferred way of dealing with things, Alim had insisted that they meet.

  He had kept alive the relationship with his brother with calls, messages and visits, and would continue to do so. Once the newlyweds were back in Rome, Alim would see them, or he might call in a few days and catch up with them in Paris.

  It would be good to see Kaleb too.

  ‘What about Yasmin?’ Alim asked.

  ‘Violetta told me that she is unwell,’ Oman said. ‘Apparently she has a migraine—too much excitement last night.’

  Or too much champagne, Alim thought, but made no comment as his father spoke on. ‘It is just as well for I wish to speak to you alone. With all I told you last night there is a lot to discuss.’

  ‘Very well.’

  A gleaming walnut table had been laid and a feast prepared. Alim looked over to where it stood waiting on a large silver trolley.

  There were no staff present, Alim noted, as was the case when formal business was to be discussed.

  Alim was not really in the mood for a breakfast briefing but given his father’s illness he knew there would be a lot to sort out.

  If they’d been in Zethlehan, there might be an elder present in case sensitive issues were raised, but for now it was just the two of them.

  Alim first served his father and then himself.

  Oman preferred fruit, and usually so too did Alim, but this morning he helped himself to a generous serving of shakshuka—baked eggs in a rich and spicy sauce. There were several chefs at the Grande Lucia, including two from Zethlehan that Alim had brought over. He made light conversation with his father as he sat down.

  ‘The Middle Eastern brunch at this hotel is becoming increasingly popular. Now people have to book in advance.’

  Oman made no comment; he did not approve of Alim having investments overseas, and he particularly loathed his son’s passion for this one.

  And then Oman said it.

  He did not look up; he said it as easily as he might ask for more mint tea.

  ‘For some time now I have been considering invoking the pre-marital diktat.’

  Alim, who had anticipated many things for the year ahead, had never envisaged this.

  Never.

  His father loathed the diktat, since it had been forced upon him, and Alim could not believe that he would bring this harsh ruling to bear on his son.

  ‘There is no need for that.’ Alim kept his voice calm, though he was rarely unsettled.

  ‘It would seem that there is. I have been asking to choose your bride for many years.’

  ‘And I have told you—’ Alim’s voice was still silk, but laced with threat ‘—that I shall never be pushed into marriage.’

  Alim stared at his father. Not only was this unexpected, it was vi
ndictive. ‘You loathe that diktat,’ Alim pointed out.

  ‘It has its merits. My father chose well for me—your mother is an exemplary queen and our people adore her. We have raised three heirs...’

  ‘And you hate it that you could not marry Fleur.’

  He’d said her name out loud.

  Now was not the time for reticence.

  ‘You hate that your first born bears no title and that the woman you love gets no recognition.’ Alim tried to stare down his father but Oman refused to meet his glare. ‘You cannot do this.’

  ‘It is done,’ Oman told him. ‘I informed the elders this morning. As of now you are Sultan Elect.’

  This meant Alim was a sultan in choosing.

  From this point on he must remain celibate for he could bring no shame on any future bride. There could be no release save from discreet times in the desert.

  Alim stood, his appetite totally gone.

  ‘You cannot force me into marriage.’

  He said it again, loudly this time, and Alim never shouted.

  Ever.

  But this morning he did.

  Oman did not flinch. In fact, vindictive had been the right word to describe his father’s mood for the Sultan of Sultans’ smile was black when he offered his response.

  ‘I can make single life hell for you, though. You’ve had your fun, Alim. It’s time to grow up.’

  * * *

  A year.

  Gabi had stamped her way home through the slush and cold, furious at his suggestion.

  But her flat was cold when she entered and she thought of the warmth she had left and the bliss of last night.

  It should be over with by now.

  Right now, Gabi thought, she should be accepting that, though amazing, her time with Alim was done.

  Yet her mind danced with the hope of more.

  Even before she had made a quick coffee, Bernadetta called.

  ‘I have a meeting with a bride this afternoon but my vertigo has come on and I’m not going to be able to get there...’

  Gabi closed her eyes as Bernadetta dragged out one of her tired excuses.