my disappearance to Mr. Greene.” She swallowed. “I’m glad we’re through,” she said firmly. “He told me he cared about me, and he was lying. I could never have stayed with someone like that. This is all for the best.”
She spoke the truth, however Khalil doubted if she believed it completely. He knew she would with time, and she would begin to get on with her life. Until then, the greatest kindness would be to keep her busy. That was, at least, something at which he could excel.
Chapter Three
The grandfather clock in the corner of the main sitting room chimed the hour. Dora counted along, then had to hold back her surprise when she realized it was already midnight. It seemed only a few minutes had passed since she and Khalil had sat down to talk. But that had been nearly three hours before, and she knew that if she had a drop of sense in her head, she would excuse herself and head off to her own room.
Except she didn’t want to go. Not only did she want to hear how the story ended, but she wanted to continue to sit here, staring at Khalil and allowing herself to pretend that he was so much more than just her boss.
“My grandmother was angry with Malik for disobeying her,” he was saying. “She took his prize stallion and sold him. By the time Malik figured out what had happened, it was too late. The poor animal had been gelded. Malik was so furious he marched up to our father and demanded that Fatima be whipped for her insolence.”
“Error in judgment,” Dora said, imagining an angry twelve-year-old boy whose plans to start a breeding ranch had just been thwarted by fate in the form of his grandmother and an impatient horse seller.
“Exactly,” he told her. “Instead it was Malik who was severely punished. For three weeks, he was only allowed to leave his room for his lessons, and he had to apologize for ‘borrowing’ our grandmother’s mare in the first place.”
Khalil set his brandy down on the coffee table in front of the long sofa and leaned back in his seat. “I remember speaking with him while he was being confined. He told me that when he was finally king, he would create a law that would make grandmothers answerable to their grandsons, especially when the grandsons were crown princes. When Fatima found out, she was most unimpressed. She informed Malik that first he had to grow up to be king, but at the rate he was making mistakes, that wasn’t going to happen.”
Dora laughed. “Let me guess. Now Malik and his grandmother are extremely close.”
“Of course. We all adore her. Our mother died when we were quite young. She raised us. She is an extraordinary woman.”
His large, dark eyes took on a faraway expression. Dora knew that he was no longer in the large New York suite, but had instead returned to El Bahar. What was it like there, she wondered? That mysterious land of which her employer spoke. Was it as wonderful as she imagined?
“Will Malik be king?” she asked.
“When our father dies. Malik is a good leader, if a little imperious and dictatorial.”
“That must run in the family,” she murmured as she took another sip of her drink.
Khalil stared at her, then raised his eyebrows. “I know you’re not speaking of me.”
“Of course not.” But she couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice.
“It is simply because you are a Western woman,” he informed her gravely. “You’re too used to having your way in all areas of your life. Had you been raised correctly, you would not think ill of me.”
“Raised correctly?” She laughed. “I don’t want to think about what that means. And while we’re on the subject, I don’t think ill of you. I’ve very much enjoyed working for you. The time has gone by very quickly.” She couldn’t believe there were only two more days until he returned to El Bahar. “I’ll be sorry when you’re gone.”
She spoke the last sentence without thinking, then wondered if she’d made a mistake. In the past twelve days she’d gotten to know her employer. He was imperious and dictatorial, but he was also fair. At times he treated her as if she were a computer or a robot, but she didn’t mind that. He was never hurtful—the way Gerald had been. Khalil didn’t comment on her appearance, make snide remarks, or speak down to her. When he asked her opinion, he expected her to have one, and then he listened as she spoke. If the matter involved something strictly “American” more often than not, he took her advice.
He was also a rich, handsome prince and prime female fantasy material. She tried to ignore that information, but occasionally she forgot and found herself getting lost in his eyes, or the perfect tailoring of his suit.
“You have been most efficient,” he told her. “I’ve been told that I expect too much of my staff, but you’ve never once complained. I appreciate that, along with all your hard work.”
She felt herself flush slightly at his compliment. “You’re just grateful not to have to deal with Bambi,” she said teasingly.
He didn’t return her smile. “I believe I would have been forced to strangle her. It would have created an international incident.”
He shifted on the sofa, until he faced her. Several floor lamps cast a warm glow in the room, leaving only the corners in shadow. Despite the late hour and the fact that they were virtually alone, she wasn’t the least bit concerned that Khalil would try anything. Aside from the fact that a fabulously handsome, wealthy prince wouldn’t notice she was a woman rather than a piece of office furniture, she knew in her heart that he was nothing like Gerald. He wouldn’t come on to her simply to relieve an itch.
She’d heard about the passions of men of the desert and watching Khalil, she could believe that he was more close to his animal nature than many Western men. But she still trusted him. He wouldn’t use a woman for sport, which is what Gerald had done.
“What will you do when I leave?” he asked. “Not return to Gerald.”
“Never that,” she promised, then had to clear her throat. It had tightened with a rush of disappointment.
While she’d known that he would be returning to El Bahar in the next couple of days, she’d started to hope he might want to take her with him. A foolish dream on her part. But how could she help wanting to meet his father and brothers, his grandmother, Fatima? She longed to see El Bahar and the palace. Khalil had painted a picture of a wild, untamed land entering the modern age. She found herself wanting to be a part of the transformation. Which was crazy. She was nothing more than a glorified secretary. Women like her didn’t change anything.
He leaned forward and picked up his drink. “I’ll make some inquiries tomorrow,” he said. “I know several executives across the country. You deserve more than what you had, Dora, and I’d like to help you find that.”
“Thank you.”
His kind words took some of the sting out of being left behind. She told herself it was enough that he would take the time to help her. How many other men would do so after such a short acquaintance? She also told herself that she had better be careful not to make Khalil a saint in her eyes. He was very much a mortal man.
And she was very much a mortal woman, in danger of developing a huge crush on her handsome boss. So the best course of action was to remove herself from temptation.
She rose to her feet. “Good night, Khalil,” she said. “What time tomorrow morning?”
“About eight,” he told her. “Good night, Dora.”
She smiled and left the room. A part of her wanted to believe his low, liquid chocolate voice had lingered over her name, but it was the same part of her that had been willing to believe that Gerald was a man of his word.
As she walked down the hallway toward her bedroom, she decided that despite the late hour, she still wasn’t sleepy. So she would take some time to review her list of what she had left to do to cancel the wedding. If nothing else, dealing with her broken