The Sheikh's Hesitant Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 7)

THE SHEIKH'S HESITANT BRIDE

Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 7

BY
 

CARA ALBANY

If you would like to know when new books are available please sign up for my new release email newsletter.

Just
click here
to sign up

Cara

CHAPTER ONE

Sheikh Zarif Al Marhez stood at windows of his luxury London apartment and gazed out across the broad expanse of rooftops. He grinned sardonically, barely noticing the bright sunshine that glinted off the tall buildings.
 

At last. He was here. Time to forget. London would provide plenty of distractions.
 

Zarif needed those distractions, and he knew London would supply whatever he needed.

From this angle, London in the summer sunshine looked surprisingly similar to Qazhar city, his home. The same modern, gravity-defying architecture, the same busy crowds. Earlier that morning, someone at the airport had complained about the summer heat. Zarif had laughed at that. The English didn't know what a hot summer really meant. Being a sheikh of Qazhar, Zarif knew all about heat. He looked out across the city. This was positively arctic by comparison.

Still, he always felt good when he came to London. There was something about the city which helped Zarif put his life in perspective. He felt the relief again, the same sense of increasing ease he'd felt when he'd left Qazhar on his private jet the evening before. It was good to be leaving his troubles behind.

He needed the respite. Getting away from Qazhar had been necessary. Imperative.

He glanced quickly at his watch yet again and sighed. Where was she? Didn't Abby, his current property advisor in London, know that Zarif valued every moment of his time? Had she forgotten that he prized punctuality and precision from all his business associates? Zarif was surprised Abby was late. Abby ran her business with the same ruthless efficiency that Zarif handled his own financial affairs.
 

Something serious must have come up. He thought about calling her but decided on patience. He didn't want anyone knowing how he felt. Not right now. The tension that had taken hold of his body and his mind for weeks now, needed to be hidden, needed to be kept a secret. Zarif knew just how strong could be his emotional outbursts.

 
He gazed out across the city and thought about adding yet more property to his already large portfolio. How many apartments could a man own without becoming bored with the whole thing?
 

Zarif shook his head, turned away from the window, went to the kitchen, and poured himself a mineral water. He went into the sitting room and slumped down onto the sofa, laying his glass on the wooden table. If Abby didn't get here soon, he'd call her and demand to know where she was.
 

Zarif leaned back and unbuttoned his charcoal grey, expertly tailored jacket. He ran a hand through his dark hair and groaned.
 

Every nerve in his body felt taut, fibre-tight. He felt like a caged animal and wondered just what it would take to get rid of the edge he felt, reduce the sharpness of the nerves that had driven him almost to a madness throughout the flight from Qazhar to London.
 

It was all her fault, he thought sharply.
 

Alana.

Even here, with over a thousand miles between them, her presence possessed every part of his being.
 

Would he ever put the past behind? When would he finally lay to rest the demons that had been summoned up during his time with her? The demons Alana had been so expert at controlling.
 

Zarif drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. His heart beat faster simply at the thought of Alana. His jaw tightened at the memory of what she had put him through these past few years, the torments he'd endured all for love.

He scowled sardonically.

Love!

There was that word again. The word which had been the excuse for all the madness, all the craziness he'd put up with. A simple word that could trigger so much pain, so much heartache.

But, he'd put that all behind him now. Hadn't he? He'd drawn a line in the sand, leaving her once and for all. She had usually accompanied Zarif on these trips to London, but not on this occasion. He needed to be alone; craved the time for himself so that he could put the last months in perspective; try to understand just where he had gone wrong.

How had he been such a fool!

There was a buzz at the door. Abby had arrived.
 

Zarif leaped up and straightened his jacket. He felt his nostrils flare. Maybe he should let Abby know just how disappointed he was at her late arrival. Professionalism was important.

Zarif strode across the soft carpet and thrust open the door.

"Abby. I thought you'd call if you were going to be late..." Zarif started to blurt out, but he stopped immediately at the sight of the two figures standing at the door.
 

Zarif froze for an instant and peered at Abby Walters, his property adviser.

"Zarif, I'm so sorry. We got delayed," Abby started to say while stepping into the apartment. Behind her followed the figure of a young woman. Zarif stared at Abby as she strode past him, but his gaze was drawn inexorably toward the petite, blonde who followed Abby into the room. The young woman flickered a hesitant glance at Zarif. The gaze of her sea-blue eyes made something shift involuntarily in Zarif. A wave of scent swept past Zarif as the two women eased past him.

Zarif closed the door and turned to face Abby who had taken up position in the hallway and was obviously awaiting a more friendly greeting.
 

Zarif leaned in and hugged Abby politely. She gave him air-kisses to either side of his face.
 

Abby straightened and peered at Zarif. "You're looking well, Zarif. Remind me. How long has it been since you were last in London?"

"A few months," Zarif replied casually.

Abby clutched a briefcase in one hand. With the other hand, she straightened her elegantly tailored jacket. Zarif had to admit Abby looked every bit the woman in charge of her own property business. Beautifully tailored suit; elegantly cut brown hair; understated but emphatic makeup; poised and confident; defiant gaze. Abby looked like she was in control of every part of her life.

Zarif glanced toward the newcomer standing next to Abby. He raised an inquiring brow.

Abby twisted theatrically toward the young woman. "Oh, how rude of me. Zarif, can I introduce you to my new assistant, Rachel. She's only recently started working for me, haven't you, dear."

Zarif saw Rachel's eyes narrow slightly in response to Abby's introduction. But, as suddenly as the brief flash of annoyance had appeared on the blonde woman's pretty features, it disappeared, quickly replaced by a polite smile.
 

Zarif reached out a hand. "Pleased to meet you, Rachel," he said.
 

Rachel placed her hand in his. Her skin was soft, her flesh warm as he wrapped his fingers gently around her hand. "Sheikh Al Mahrez. It's an honor to meet you," Rachel said. Her voice was tight, and he thought she sounded nervous.

"Call me, Zarif," he said giving her a warm smile. Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she nodded. Her eyes flickered toward Abby who was watching the exchange with an even gaze. He released her hand.

There couldn't have been a greater contrast between the two women, he thought, as he gestured toward the sitting room. He followed behind them as they made their way toward the facing sofas.
 

Rachel was modestly dressed in a plain beige outfit and sensible shoes. She moved with a slight hesitation in her every step, as if she was waiting for the signal from Abby about what she should do or say next.
 

Rachel's blonde hair was tied into a neat bun. Zarif could almost have imagined her wearing plain spectacles to hide her obviously natural beauty. The two women took their seats Zarif glanced at Rachel, confirming his initial impression as they'd shaken hands.
 

This young woman was beautiful.
 

No. More than that, he said to himself.

Heart-stoppingly lovely.
 

Zarif fetched coffee for the women and took his place immediately opposite them. He glanced across at Rachel as she busied herself unpacking the paperwork from the briefcase.
 

She had even features, full lips, high cheekbones and achingly beautiful curved eyebrows. There was a composure about her features that was compelling, that caused him to glance at her in spite of his desire to remain aloof. Her every movement was measured and careful, as if she was used to maintaining control over herself. Zarif had seen that in other women, especially when they had been determined to disguise their attraction to him. It was a mask with which he was all too familiar.

Zarif caught Abby looking at him, a slight puzzlement on her face. "I can see you have something for me, this morning," he said gesturing toward the paper Rachel was spreading out on the table.

She raised a brow and peered at Zarif. "When have I ever let you down, Zarif?" Abby said sardonically.
 

Zarif shrugged, feigning disinterest. "You've been very good for me, Abby," he said. "I can't deny that when it comes to finding property in London, there are few women who can come close to you."

Abby grinned, suddenly pleased at Zarif's attention. He immediately regretted that his statement had contained even the slightest hint that there could be more than professional friendship between him and Abby. He'd been fighting that battle with her for too long. Abby seemed oblivious to Zarif's unease. "I'm glad you still think so," she said.
 
"I was wondering when you'd make it back."

Zarif made sure his features were set in an impassive mask. "There were things to attend to back in Qazhar," he stated flatly.

"Really? Such as," Abby probed, leaning forward slightly and fixing him with a narrowing gaze, but Zarif was determined not to reveal even the slightest hint of his recent life.

He realized he could hardly keep his eyes from Rachel who was purposefully going about her business, arranging what looked like details of properties for Zarif to consider.

For the next hour, Abby guided Zarif through the details of her latest list of potential properties to add to his portfolio. He already had a dozen exclusive apartments in some of the most eagerly sought after locations in London.
 

The one he maintained for his own use was located in Knightsbridge, conveniently located for everything that London had to offer the wealthy sheikh; fine restaurants; exclusive clubs; the proximity to all his wealthy associates who spent time in London whenever their jaded senses needed some stimulation, some amusement that couldn't be found as easily elsewhere.
 

As he glanced over the prospectuses, the marketing materials that promised so much, Zarif felt a familiar sense of unease, a feeling that had been growing inside him for so long. Glancing through the details, considering the financial projections that promised so much easy profit, his mind drifted to the times in recent years when he'd visited London with Alana. They had taken full advantage of the rich lifestyle, the opulence, the decadence. At first, it had all seemed so satisfying, so pleasing. And, Zarif had savored the time with Alana who had taken to the decadent lifestyle like a duck to water.
 

And that had been the problem.

Alana hadn't just enjoyed the indulgent, sumptuous life on offer amongst the wealthy elite with whom they'd socialized. She had demanded it; become addicted to it, even while he had tried to pull back from it, resisting the easy pleasures. But, for Alana, the more hedonistic their lifestyle, the more she had demanded it from Zarif.

And it was when that had happened that it had become an issue between Zarif and Alana.
 

"So, what do you think, Zarif?" Abby asked, dragging his attention back to the moment. He glanced at Abby. Her brows were raised high, her lips pursed and he could see she was trying to understand why he'd been so distracted, more distant than before.

Zarif ran his gaze across the columns of projections and then to the illustrations which showed the interior of the exclusive development which was a short distance from where they sat.

Zarif furrowed his brows. "I don't know. It certainly fits the bill, as far as what we've acquired before."

"It's exactly what you look for in terms of location, specification, future returns on capital," Abby said.

Zarif gave Abby a quizzical look. "You and I both know that return on capital investment is the least of my worries, Abby," he said.

Zarif saw Abby's cheeks flush. Zarif glanced across at Rachel who had contributed throughout the discussion by answering Zarif's questions about the specifications of the property, the background of the developers, the details of the lease arrangements. Zarif had been impressed with Rachel's grasp of details. There had been a reason why Abby had hired the young English woman, Zarif realized. Behind the modest facade was a razor sharp mind. He suddenly wanted to know more about the pretty, whip-smart woman who seemed to be holding so much back.