SHEIKH'S SURPRISE BABY: A Sheikh Romance (76 page)

No one had ever made her feel more alive, more like a woman and a desirable one, than Daniel did that night.

She woke, cradled in his arms in the early hours when the sun was still pale and milky in the sky. Daniel was still asleep, and she took the opportunity to watch him for a while, to memorize the curves, and planes, and angles of his face.

He had the face of an angel, something you’d see in a portrait by an old master. At rest, his face softened slightly, and he looked more boyish. She liked seeing sleep smooth out some of the worry lines. She wished she could do that for him.

His impossibly long eyelashes fluttered. He opened his eyes and yawned hugely. “What time is it?”

“Around six-thirty.”

“Tell me I sent my driver home before we fell asleep.”

“You did.”

“That’s a relief. I was worried that the meter was still running.”

“Do you want some coffee, or—”

He tightened his embrace. “Let’s just doze for a while. I don’t often have the pleasure of sleeping with someone. Feels good to wake up to someone warm and friendly.”

His words surprised her. She’d assumed that he had an active and varied sex life.

“You’ll have to tell me about the tattoos.”

He looked down at himself and smiled almost reminiscently. “They all mean something.”

“I hoped they would.”

“You did? Why?”

“I didn’t want them to be whims. I wanted them to be on your body because they were things you wanted to say about your life.”

He looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. “You get it,” he said. “Not many people do.”

“The dragon?”

He sighed and moved away from her on the bed. Sophia was afraid that she’d asked the wrong question and was momentarily frozen with the fear of upsetting him. He must have seen it because he said, “It was a long time ago, but it’s still hard to talk about. I was married once. She died and I was almost insane with grief. My great-grandmother Buchanan took me up to her home in the highlands and told me that grief would transform me into who I would be for the rest of my life. She said it would make or break me.” His gaze seemed to fix on something far away in both time and space.

“Her family crest is a dragon, and it was common to see dragons in many forms all over her house, almost like talismans. I remember thinking that if I could let my grief turn me into a dragon, fierce and dangerous, I was all for it. So I concentrated on my internal dragon.” He rubbed his face with both hands and laughed. “I was so young. But it helped. I stopped grieving and started being angry, which was a good first step. And then my grandmother taught me about the wisdom of dragons. I got the tatt to remind me that life is complicated, but strength and intelligence can help you through anything.”

“That’s a sad and amazing story,” Sophia told him. “I never thought much about dragons before. Is that why your first company was Drake Scientific?”

He gave her a look of surprise. “You’ve been studying me,” he accused.

“Guilty. I felt the need to know more about you.”

“That’s wise, though being a public figure doesn’t make me safe. If anything, it gives me more scope for crazy behavior.”

“Don’t scare me.”

He hugged her close. “I don’t mean to. This is a nice room,” he said, looking around. I like the way it feels.”

“What’s your home like?” she asked, imagining something opulent and way out of her league.

“Oh, it’s just a condo. Living room, bedroom, bath, efficiency kitchen with a breakfast bar. I bought it because I didn’t feel like renting, but I haven’t done anything with it.

“Does it have a wonderful view?” she asked, imagining a panoramic view of the lakefront.

“No, it overlooks the railroad tracks. Really, it’s nothing special. It’s still the standard builders’ white with brown wall-to-wall carpeting.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

He shrugged. Nothing feels like home, really. Not enough to make the effort.” He must have noticed her expression of non-comprehension because he said, “I grew up in boarding school, then went to Cambridge, so home was an abstract to me. The only place that ever really felt like home was the little apartment Siobhan and I shared. It was only a couple of rooms, but she made it beautiful. Nothing else has ever felt right to me.”

Sophia propped herself up on one elbow and stared down at him. “You know what? We’re going to decorate.”

“Nah.”

“Yes. We’re going to make your condo feel like home to you because you deserve that much. Look, you’ve been so good to me, let me repay you by pulling something together for you. I’d enjoy it, and once we’re finished, so will you.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.” It felt like the least she could do for him.

That afternoon they went over to look at his condo, and Sophia had to admit that it was tragically dull. “First thing, we pick out colors,” she told him. She dug her fan deck out of her purse and put it on the breakfast bar. “This is one of my most prized possessions. Pick out colors you like.”

“I don’t know,” he said as he made a pot of coffee.”

“All right then, we’ll start with blues. Everyone likes blue.”

But it was like pulling teeth until she got him to commit to one beautiful shade of teal, a rich, dark blue-green that made him smile. “I can work with this,” she told him.

They went out and picked up a few gallons of paint, and by dinner time, the living room was a beautiful semi-gloss peacock color.

“I don’t know about this,” he said, looking around.

“That’s because we’ve only just started. Tomorrow we buy drapes, lamps, a rug, and some chairs. Your sofa is fine.” It was a dark chocolate leather. Sophia wondered why men liked leather furniture so much, but at least it was a good color.

Once she’d begun to add in the other colors — orange-red, gold, dark brown — Daniel began to get the feel of the process, and started to pick out things he liked. He found a beautiful stained glass table lamp in shades of blue green and amber, and picked out a red-lacquered chest that worked as an end table.

The process took several weeks, during which time, Daniel took a lively interest in the way the room was starting to look. He even cadged a few antique pieces out of his parents and moved things around to accommodate them. He proved to have a good eye, and she complimented him on it every day.

And at night, they slept in his builders’ white bedroom, learning each other in ways Sophia had never imagined she could know another human being. Nothing was ever said about the future, but for the present, things were good, better than she’d ever thought they could be.

She told herself this was temporary, that they were enjoying each other’s company, but in the end, she and Daniel belonged to different worlds. One day they would simply stop being lovers. Perhaps they would stay friends, she hoped that would be the case, but if they didn’t, she knew she’d always remember this time as a happy one.

She was seeing Doctor Forster on a regular basis, and the specter of Phil was beginning to lose some of its power over her. She learned that she was far from alone in all this, that lots of people had controlling partners or stalkers, or abusers, but that there was help available. She began to sort out all the lies he’d told her, and eventually she began to understand that she was actually worthy of being loved by someone good and honest.

She wished it could be Daniel, but knew that if she put too much hope into their relationship, when it went south she would be devastated.

They had finished decorating the bathroom in the condo; Sophia had allowed her sense of whimsy to guide here there, and with Daniel’s permission she decorated the tub and walls with flat-backed glass stones in blues and greens, and painted the walls a beautiful ultramarine blue. It made the room dark, but she covered every inch of available space with remote-controlled candles so with one click of the remote, the room was filled with warm, golden light.

Bathing in there together was a delight, soaking in the hot water, listening to music on the bluetooth speakers she installed.

She had just begun to pick out the colors and the tile for the kitchen remodel when her hard-won peace of mind was shattered. She arrived at the condo one afternoon to find Phil waiting for her in the vestibule.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “You’re not welcome.”

“I know that, but I can’t let that stop me from warning you.”

“You have nothing to say to me.” She tried to push past him but he grabbed her arm.

“He’s using you, Sophie. Guys like that can have any woman in the world, beautiful, talented women. What do you think he wants you for?”

“Let go of me. I mean it.” She tried to sound firm, but inside the tiny voice of her insecurity was starting to whisper to her and she knew she had to make the right choice or all her hard work would be for nothing.

“You’re temporary. You’re just for bed while he goes about his business.”

“Stop that. You’re vile.”

“What do you think he could possibly see in you? I love you, so it doesn’t matter to me that you’re dull and not really beautiful. It’s what’s inside that counts with me. He’s laughing at you, Sophie.”

She stared at him, at his face, contorted and ugly with rage and jealousy, and spoke the truth, knowing that it might cost her dearly. “You don’t love me. You never did. You just want someone you can control.”

“I do. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. Sophie, come back to me. I’ll do better. I swear I will”

“No. Go away, Phil.” She gave him a shove and he stumbled backwards a few steps, and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a gun.

“I mean it,” he said. “I’d rather see us both dead than see you throw yourself away on him.”

She should have been more frightened, but it all felt like a dream to her. “No,” she said quietly. “You’re not going to frighten me anymore. I don’t believe a word you say, Phil. Not one. I’m not stupid or ugly, I have talents. I have friends who care about me. You can’t make me feel like nothing anymore. I won’t give you that power again.”

“I mean it,” he said, but his voice was shaking, and so was his hand.

“Put the gun down, Phil. You won’t shoot me. You certainly won’t shoot yourself.”

“You think I won’t?” he demanded, his voice becoming shrill. “You think I won’t?” And he lifted the gun, brought it up fast to point it at his head.

Whether he meant to shoot, or whether it was accidental, Sophia would never know, but there was a terrible, echoing report, and Phil crumpled, leaving a spray of blood on the glass behind him.

Sophia, rooted to the spot, could not even scream. She stood there and stared as the pool of blood spread out underneath Phil’s head, stared as people began to crowd into the vestibule, and the police were called.

“Are you all right?” someone asked, and Sophia could not even speak.

Once Daniel arrived, he sat with her, holding her hand while she spoke to the police. She said that she didn’t think Phil meant to pull the trigger, that he had never had a gun as far as she knew, and probably didn’t understand basic gun safety. “I think he meant to prove a point and his finger slipped.”

She told them what he’d said, what she’d said, and she expected them to give her that look that said she was responsible for this as surely as if she’d pulled the trigger. That she should have been nicer to Phil. But surprisingly, the two officers seemed sympathetic.

“You’ll take care of her?” the female officer asked Daniel, and he nodded.

He took her upstairs and poured her a glass of brandy. “Get yourself around this.”

“It’s okay,” she said.

“Something like this isn’t really okay, Sophia, it just gets further away with time.” He drew her a hot bath, and afterward put her to bed.

When she woke after hearing the sound of the gunshot in a dream, he was sleeping beside her, curled up against her back, one arm thrown over her waist. It made the bad things fade away enough for her to fall asleep again.

The next morning, she woke to the smell of coffee. She threw on her robe and padded out to the kitchen where Daniel was making toast. “You’re up! How you feeling?” he asked.

“I don’t know, really. A little uneasy, but not as rattled as I’d have imagined. The weirdest thing: When I woke up just now, I lay there in bed thinking about decorating the bedroom. Isn’t that strange?” She rubbed her forehead.

“Headache?”

“No, just a bit tense.” The memory of that pool of blood rushed back and she jumped off the stool and raced for the bathroom where she threw up.

Daniel came and held her hair back, and gave her cold water to rinse her mouth.

“I thought about… I don’t want to talk about it, but, what happened, it’s like a movie that plays inside my head at weird moments.” Her hands were shaking.

“Come and have some coffee and toast.”

“Make it tea with dry toast and I’m there,” she joked.

“Whatever you need.” He got her settled on the couch, under an afghan and brought her a cup of tea and a plate of unbuttered toast which she devoured.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much. I was starving.”

“You didn’t eat dinner last night, so it’s not a huge surprise.”

“No.”

“Feel like talking about it?”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to tell Daniel about what Phil had said to her. So much of it had been about him.

“I know what he said to me was about him, not me or you, but I have to say this. I’ve been wanting to say it for a while now and I think it’s time.”

“Okay.”

“I think we both recognize that this isn’t a forever thing between us. No, let me finish, please? This is hard for me.”

He nodded, but he looked uneasy.

“I’m happy. Being with you has been one of the best things that ever happened to me, and no matter when it ends, that won’t change. I love you for your kindness and your thoughtfulness, and I love you for you. I hope that even when we’re not together anymore, we can stay friends. Okay, that’s it.”

Daniel’s expression was strange, unreadable. “Okay,” he echoed. “Yeah, of course we’ll be friends. Let me get you another cup of tea.”