The Sheikh's Forbidden Jewel

Part 15-Chapter 14

Idriss stared at the door as if he could burn a hole through the gilded wood. All his life, he'd known when to walk away. This talent had once saved his life, kept him away from crime. It had made his fortune. It had kept him safe.

Now, for the first time, he hadn't been the one to walk away. And he didn't have a clue how to deal with this new situation. He listened as Georgina's footsteps decreased, every click of her sandals on the marble another stab in his chest. The silence that followed stretched his nerves to breaking point, until he was ready to run out of the stifling room, take the steps two by two, burst into her room...

And then what? He gave himself a shake, and sat at his desk, as if to suppress the temptation. What would he say to her? She'd chosen to leave. He had to respect her decision.

But the sound of her suitcase, bumping down the staircase, almost tore his resolve to pieces. If he came out, talked to her...

No. He had never humiliated himself before a woman. Exasperated by his own weakness, he brought his hand down on the desk, with so much strength one antique inkstand jumped and nearly fell to the floor. He caught it just in time, and held it so tight it would have crumbled, hadn't it been made of stone.

Just like his heart? The thought bit him hard, but then the front door slammed. A few minutes later, a car started. The Jeep. She must have asked Hassan or one of the other servants to drive her to the airport.

That settled it. He shoved the inkstand back on his desk. He was not the kind of man to rush after a girl and catch her just as she was boarding the plane, like some deluded fool in the sentimental movies he despised.

He waited until the noise of the engine had died down in the distance, then pulled the laptop towards him, determined to get back to work. He typed in his password, connected to his company's secure network. An avalanche of emails cascaded in his in box. He'd done no work in the past few days. Georgina had taken up all his time.

He clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. She's gone, he said to the busy screen in front of him. Deal with it. He opened the first email.

"Sheikh, will you come down for dinner?"

Hassan's voice, and his knock on the door, startled Idriss. Was the man back from the airport already? He glanced at the window, shocked to see that the swift Messairan sunset had already painted the sky purple. He looked at his screen. He hadn't even got to the end of that first email. He couldn't remember the first thing about it. The ornate clock on the wall confirmed that he'd spent the past hour thinking only of Georgina.

Cursing under his breath, he ordered Hassan to bring him a light meal. He'd concentrate better with food in his stomach.

But two hours later he'd got no further. Georgina inserted herself everywhere. Every word he read seemed to be about her. He'd open a photograph of a statue, a painting, and there she was, staring at him through the eyes of some long-forgotten beauty.

Zarba. He shut the computer down, pushed away his barely-touched dinner. He'd get a good night's sleep, then start again tomorrow.

But she wouldn't let him rest. He tossed and turned all night, and when he finally drifted into an uneasy slumber in the early hours of the morning, he dreamt of her. He dreamt of her arms around his neck, her lips on his skin, and woke up drenched in sweat, pierced with a longing that he could no longer control or deny.

He ploughed on. For two days he tried to carry on as normal, and put Georgina out of his mind. Work, eat, sleep, exercise. But with every hour that passed, the ache inside him grew, until he could have howled with frustration and regret. He didn't know what to do with his body, that clamoured for Georgina with mounting impatience; or with his mind, that kept conjuring her image at the most inopportune moments.