is waiting for you, Miss Simone.”
“Just Simone, please.”
“Perhaps in Australia, but not here,” he rumbled.
“But you call the sheikh Markaz. I heard you.”
The giant frowned. “We grew up together and are brothers in all but name.”
And with men it was different anyway. How on earth did men like Fayed cope with the reforms Markaz was gradually introducing? Did the rebels resist so fiercely to avoid losing their power over their womenfolk? Suddenly the modest clothing she’d put on so eagerly seemed more limiting than charming.
In a rush of defiance, she pulled off her hejab and let it float onto the bed, then fluffed out her hair, earning a curious look from Fayed. But he made no comment when she said, “I’m ready. Wouldn’t want to keep the sheikh waiting.”
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