I Married a Sheik (3 page)

"Considered?"
One auburn brow rose and Faith felt the stung of his subtle doubt. Fists clenched in frustration at his high-handed arrogance, she took a step closer to his desk. "Well, you've apparently been misinformed."

It was his turn to look surprised. His glance shifted from her to his elderly assistant who was still quietly hovering in the background. "Kadid? What is this?" He glanced at Faith, his dark brows drawn together, then back at his assistant. "Have I been misinformed?"

The carefully chosen words sounded like a threat, almost making Faith shiver. The guy gave a whole new meaning to the word
arrogant.

"Absolutely," Faith responded before the assistant could. "I
am
the best computer consultant in the business."

"Modest, too, I can see," Ali said, with a cautious smile of relief. Plain, but feisty, he decided with a hint of amusement. An interesting combination.

"No, Mr. El-Etra, not modest, just honest." Her chin lifted. "Honest, and the best, but my time is valuable, and I don't appreciate having it wasted."

There was anger, he noted, and something else radiating from her, something he couldn't quite place.

"Nor do I, Ms. Martin," he said, making it clear that he considered her little temper tantrum a waste of his time. "If you are the best, then I trust you'll be able to fix this insidious problem. Immediately." It was a clear challenge, one Faith couldn't ignore.

"Well, I don't know about your idea of immediate, but once I find out what the problem is, I'm sure I can fix it. I can't tell you how long it will take, though, until I know exactly what we're dealing with." She met his gaze head-on. "Some things take time whether we like it or not." And she was not about to be rushed. Sensing he was going to issue another order or command that would no doubt only tick her off more, she rushed on. "Now, if you can give me an idea of just what the problem is, it might help. I have to start somewhere. I'm good, but I'm not a mind reader."

His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, stung once again by her sarcasm. He drew himself upward, slipping his hands in the pockets of his pants. "We are a full-scale investment firm, Ms. Martin, and once a month an assortment of checks are issued to each and every client, checks of different denominations for different purposes, of course."

"Of course." She wished he'd stop staring at her. He was making her…itchy.

Ali blew out an exasperated breath. "A few days ago, on the first of the month, when the first batch of checks were distributed, the system began spitting out checks in the wrong denominations. In addition, we discovered that it was also crediting deposits to the wrong accounts and in the wrong amounts. Both new funds, interest, as well as divestitures were misappropriated to the wrong accounts."

With a shake of his head, Ali glanced down at the neat sheaf of papers on his desk. He'd spent hours going over paperwork, trying to fix this problem, then more hours on the phone, soothing investors. He felt as if he hadn't left his office in weeks.

"As a result, chaos has reigned. My accountants did not discover the errors until after the first checks had been mailed and the first irate calls started coming in." His brows drew together as he remembered the flurried panic among his staff that morning.

"Our in-house computer experts were at a loss as well. They began searching for the problem—"

"Immediately," she injected with a nod of her head, causing him to stop and stare at her for a long moment. Obviously this was a man not used to being interrupted, judging from the look on his face.

"Yes," he said slowly, still watching her carefully. "But alas, they came up empty. They tried various things, unfortunately, nothing worked. As a result, we had to completely shut down our entire computer system simply because it is set up to distribute and print checks automatically. I have been deluged with calls from angry investors who have either not received the proper funds or have not received any funds at all. Now, unfortunately, they have begun to question the integrity as well as the security of my firm." He sounded as if he was surprised by this.

"Well, that would do it for me." She slipped her hands in the pockets of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. "If I'd invested my life savings in a firm and found out they'd screwed up and sent my money to someone else, I'd be a tad annoyed as well."

"Screwed up?" His dark eyes narrowed and she could hear Mr. Kadid sigh from behind her. Apparently telling the sheik he'd screwed up wasn't part of the proper protocol. "This cannot continue, Ms. Martin," he said in clipped tones. "So as you can see, this
is
of an urgent nature and must be attended to. Immediately."

Perhaps if he hadn't sounded like he was issuing a command, she might have softened at his plight.

"Situations happen whether we allow them or not. And as for urgent and immediate, I'm not the fire department," she clarified, watching his face darken. The assistant was apparently back to sighing again as well. "Clearly you've got a problem with your accounting program," she said, meeting his gaze. "But it wouldn't take a genius to figure that out."

He stiffened and his eyes went cold at the perceived insult. "I can assure you, Ms. Martin, that my staff is more than qualified to handle almost any situation that arises—"

"But apparently not this one. If they were, I wouldn't be here."

Her words hung in the air for a long moment, and Faith wondered if perhaps she'd gone too far. But the man was just so…downright arrogant, she couldn't help but goad him a bit.

"Touché." He nodded, as if he was gracing her with some great gift, and allowed a small smile to touch his lips. "But of course you are right. This was one problem my own people have not been able to solve." He paused for a moment before continuing. "El-Etra Investments prides itself on its impeccable reputation. As I'm sure you can understand, when someone trusts you with their money, any hint of impropriety can have devastating effects, not just on your actual business, but also on your reputation. And in this business, your reputation is everything." He took a slow, deep breath. His gaze never left hers. "I have assured my investors that this problem would be solved immediately, and although I have ample insurance to cover such an occurrence, it is my name on the firm, and I have vowed to personally make good on every single penny invested and due. We're in the process of personally distributing checks now to every investor to cover any losses, differences or discrepancies."

"You have that kind of money?" The question popped out before she could stop it. She glanced around. This was no mom-and-pop store, but a big-league operation that no doubt had millions of dollars invested in it.

The mere idea of having that kind of indeterminable wealth almost stopped her heart.

For someone who had struggled, pinched pennies, worked two jobs just to put herself through school, and had gone deeply in debt just to start her own fledging computer consulting business and had worked like a dog for seven years to make a go of it, the thought of endless funds seemed like nirvana.

And this man discussed it without so much as a blip in his voice.

"But of course," he said simply, as if they were talking about pocket change. "Why, are you planning on raising your rates?"

She couldn't help but grin. "Well, I hadn't thought of it before, but now, I just might consider it."

"Ms. Martin, I
am
Sheik Ali El-Etra." The way he said it made her wonder if she was supposed to bow or something.

"So I've heard, since everyone around here keeps telling me, although I can't possibly imagine why." Apparently she was supposed to be impressed.

She wasn't.

"It means nothing to you?" For a moment he didn't know if he should be annoyed or amused. Most women he encountered had all but done a Dunn and Bradstreet check on him before he ever met them.

"I don't have a clue what your title means or why it should be important to anyone but you."

He couldn't help the little stab to his ego. "My title, Ms. Martin, merely means that I am of royal blood."

"Royal blood?" One brow rose suspiciously. "Right." This time the sigh from behind her was louder, and laced with just a bit of…panic, she thought. "Royal blood?" she repeated with a frown, considering. "You mean like a king or queen or something."

"Or something," he admitted with a slow nod.

"And of course no one thought it was important to mention this little tidbit to me?" she asked, feeling just a tad embarrassed by her own behavior. He
was
a client, and just because he'd been rude, didn't mean she had to be.

He just annoyed her so with his arrogant, high-handed orders and demands. As if the world revolved around him.

"Would it have changed your behavior if you had known?" Or your viperous tongue, he wondered.

"Probably not," she admitted honestly. "Unless you have the power to have someone beheaded."

He threw back his head and laughed, the sound rich as it rumbled around the room. "I'm afraid, Ms. Martin, that we no longer behead people." He flashed her a brilliant smile. Faith felt as if the temperature in the office rose twenty degrees. "Too messy."

"Well, I'm grateful for small favors."

Cocking his head, he studied her. "And would it have mattered anyway?"

"The beheading?"

He shook his head, amused. "No, my bloodlines."

"Not unless you plan on running in the Kentucky Derby." She shrugged. "Otherwise, your bloodlines don't matter one whit to me."

He laughed again. It had been a very long time since anyone had dared to speak to him so freely. Not since his beloved grandmother. But this woman certainly did
not
remind him of his grandmother.

On the contrary, she was young and vibrant, with a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue. And he found himself suddenly both irritated and amused by her.

A woman who was not impressed by his title, his bloodlines or apparently his money. A novelty, for sure.

"My title, it is, as you said, perhaps, of no real importance," he admitted, "except to those who are impressed by such things." He smiled and she realized anew just how incredibly attractive he was. "And you apparently are not one of those people."

She shrugged. "I couldn't care less if you're the King of Siam."

"Wrong country, wrong continent." He pointed to a large, full-scale color map framed and anchored to one wall. "The land of my birth is Kuwait, Ms. Martin."

Faith glanced across the room to where he was pointing. The details of the map were so precise, so vivid, it actually looked hand-painted. Probably was, she decided. He probably had his minions paint the little trinket just to decorate his office. Why, she wondered, did the mere thought annoy her?

Faith shifted her gaze back to his. Kuwait. So that explained the faint accent, the inlaid family crest on his desk, above the fireplace. It explained a lot of things about him.

She'd been right; he was spoiled and rich and, on top of it, a royal. Terrific.

"You are frowning again, Ms. Martin. Have I said something to annoy you?" Apparently, he'd been saying and doing a lot that annoyed her.

"You can call me Faith," she said absently. If the man had royal blood, she supposed he could use her first name. "So what is a man of royal blood from Kuwait doing in California?"

"What all normal men do, I suppose. Conducting business." He cast another scathing look at the computer on his desk. "Or trying to." He didn't know why it was important to explain, but for some reason he did. "Many years ago my father and his partner, Joe Colton, who happens to live in Prosperino, California, went into business together. It was the perfect merger of two like-minded men, two countries and cultures."

"I've heard of the Coltons," she said with a quiet nod.

The Coltons were California's version of royalty—well-connected, well-respected, and with a sterling reputation in the business, political and social community.

She'd always admired the vast family from afar, eagerly reading about them in the paper, envying them for their closeness, their love, their incredible devotion to one another. The Coltons were, in her mind, what the definition of what a true family was, the kind she'd never had.

But her affection for the Coltons went far deeper than what she'd read in the society pages. The Coltons were a philanthropic family, giving to a great deal of needy causes. They had, in fact, funded the Hopechest Ranch, where she'd spent some of her teen years. Without the ranch, she would have probably ended up on the streets, just another lost kid.

She owed a lot to the Hopechest Ranch and, ultimately, the Coltons for making such a place possible for children who either had nowhere to go or had no one who wanted them.

She'd been just such a child. But she wasn't about to tell this man any such thing. Someone like Ali El-Etra would never understand what it was like to be alone in the world, never knowing where your next meal was coming from, never knowing if you'd have a roof over your head.

He had minions who did nothing but hand-paint maps for him. Obviously he'd never understand where she came from.

Ali continued. "My father is a descendant of the Kuwaiti royal family, and our family is the largest land-holder in our country, land that is rich with oil. Oil my country was not even aware of so many years ago, nor did they have any experience extracting that oil from the land. Joe Colton, on the other hand, had equipment, experience and an oil-rigging company." Ali shrugged, not mentioning how close the El-Etras and the Coltons had become over the years. They'd been like a surrogate family to him, particularly during the years of unrest in his country, when his father, fearing for his safety, had sent him to America, to the Coltons, to live.

It was a painful time for Ali, a time when he'd been separated from his family, and when he'd lost his beloved Jalila.

Ali shook away the memories, preferring not to think of them. They were still far too painful.

"Together, Joe Colton and my father became not just partners and very close friends, but very, very successful men." He shrugged, his massive shoulders moving beneath the custom-tailored suit. "It has worked out quite well for all concerned."