“We have a child together. That confirms you are still my woman.”

When Sheikh Zafir el-Kalil discovers that he is a father, he will do anything to secure his child—even marry the woman who betrayed him and kept their son a secret from him!

Darcy Carrick is older and wiser now, and she will not bend so easily to Zafir’s will! Once her heart would have soared to hear Zafir call her his wife. Now it will take more than soft words and sweet seduction to win back her love...

‘Would you not prefer me to make love to you?’

Darcy gasped. ‘You shouldn’t say such things to me. You—you know you shouldn’t.’

‘Are you telling me you don’t want me, Darcy?’

She was suddenly quite faint. The things that Zafir’s deep bass voice alone could do—never mind his looks... Where on earth was she supposed to go with such a question?

‘All I’m saying is that I—I need to be sensible and you’re making it impossible for me.’

‘Once...not so very long ago...you were my woman. Now we have a child together. That confirms you are still my woman.’

‘I am no such thing. And nor am I some chattel to do exactly as you tell me just because you think it’s some inalienable right you have.’

‘Is that really how you view me? as someone who wouldn’t even consider another person’s rights if they happen to conflict with my own? That is a shame. But that aside, if you’re saying that you no longer have any feelings for me other than hatred then I have to remind you that I am still the father of your son and I fully intend to claim my paternal rights—with or without your approval—because my people need an heir.’

Secret Heirs of Billionaires

There are some things money can’t buy...

Living life at lightning pace, these magnates are no strangers to stakes at their highest. It seems they’ve got it all... That is until they find out that there’s an unplanned item to add to their list of accomplishments!

Achieved:

1. Successful business empire

2. Beautiful women in their bed

3. An heir to bear their name?

Though every billionaire needs to leave his legacy in safe hands, discovering a secret heir shakes up his carefully orchestrated plan in more ways than one!

Uncover their secrets in:

Unwrapping the Castelli Secret by Caitlin Crews

Brunetti’s Secret Son by Maya Blake

The Secret to Marrying Marchesi by Amanda Cinelli

Demetriou Demands His Child by Kate Hewitt

The Desert King’s Secret Heir by Annie West

Look out for more stories in the Secret Heirs of Billionaires series coming soon!

The Sheikh’s Secret Son

Maggie Cox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MAGGIE COX is passionate about stories that can uplift and transport people out of their daily worries to a more magical place, be they romance novels or fairy tales. What people want most, she believes, is true connection. She feels blessed to be married to a lovely man who never fails to make her laugh, and has two beautiful sons and two much loved grandchildren.

Books by Maggie Cox

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

Required to Wear the Tycoon’s Ring

A Rule Worth Breaking

The Man She Can’t Forget

The Tycoon’s Delicious Distraction

In Petrakis’s Power

What His Money Can’t Hide

The Lost Wife

The Brooding Stranger

Mistress, Mother...Wife?

Surrender to Her Spanish Husband

Seven Sexy Sins

A Taste of Sin

The Powerful and the Pure

Distracted by Her Virtue

A Deal with the Devil

A Devilishly Dark Deal

One Night In...

One Desert Night

British Bachelors

Secretary by Day, Mistress by Night

Visit the Author Profile page at

millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

To Alicia Barber

A unique young woman who has become a very dear friend x

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Secret Heirs of Billionaires

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE FALL FROM the granite wall happened in an instant, yet strangely time seemed to slow down as Darcy saw herself plunge downwards. It was like an uncanny out-of-body experience. Her mind flashed—happening but not happening—just like in a dream. Trouble was, she’d lost concentration due to her mind being dominated by the nerve-racking task at hand—which was hopefully to see the charismatic owner of the regal manor and to tell him at last that their passionate affair had produced a son...

Now, the searing knife-like pain that shot through her ankle as she hit the ground gave her something even more pertinent to worry about. Issuing a string of unladylike curses, she rubbed at the offending bone, wincing as the pain intensified excruciatingly. How on earth was she going to stand? The flesh was already reddening and swelling—too fast for her liking. No chance of presenting the poised unruffled appearance she’d had in mind, then...

Even as the realisation descended a heavy-set man in a slightly snug black suit started running towards her from the other side of the splendid gardens. It didn’t take much guessing to deduce that he was a security guard. She reminded herself of her intention to stay as calm as possible, no matter what occurred. Then she made herself breathe deeply to try to control the waves of pain that washed over her.

When the man got to her, his breath hitting the frigid October air in tangible puffs of steam, she saw that his fleshy olive complexion was coated with a fine sheen of perspiration.

Despite her dilemma, Darcy quipped, ‘You could have saved yourself the effort. I’m clearly not going anywhere any time soon. I think I’ve twisted my ankle.’

‘You are a very silly young woman to risk such a foolish thing. I can tell you now that the Sheikh is not going to be very happy.’

Her realisation that he was referring to the man she’d desperately hoped to see made her feel as though she’d slammed into the wall rather than merely falling off it.

‘His Highness is the owner of this property and you are trespassing. I have to warn you that he will not take the intrusion lightly.’

‘No... I don’t suppose he will.’

However her ex-lover reacted when he saw her, it surely couldn’t make her feel any worse than she felt already. Yes, it could. Darcy had been on edge before the accident, never mind now, with the looming possibility of being confronted by him and accused of breaking and entering.

‘Look, what’s happened has happened, and as much as I need to explain my motives for being here to His Highness, first I’m going to need your help in getting to my feet.’

‘That is not a good idea. You need to be checked over by a doctor first. Trying to stand might make the injury worse.’

Staring up at the guard, she witnessed an unexpected glimpse of concern in his chocolate-brown eyes. Then he withdrew a phone from his jacket and spoke to someone at the other end in a language that she was only too familiar with from her days of working at the bank. To make matters worse, the recognition brought with it a vividly searing memory that she expressly didn’t welcome right then—especially when she’d stupidly put herself in the mother of all awkward situations.

And all because she’d been driven to scale a wall she never should have attempted in the first place, resulting in a highly inconvenient injury.

But what else was she supposed to do when the necessity of seeing her former lover was becoming ever more urgent? Her worst fears had come true. He was engaged to be married. No matter how many times she reminded herself of the fact, her heart vehemently rejected the idea as though it was poison.

At the same time Darcy realised the guard really wasn’t going to help her to her feet, he abruptly ended his call. Then he withdrew a voluminous handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to mop his brow.

‘The doctor is coming. I have also arranged for you to have some water.’

‘I don’t need water. I just need some help to get to my feet.’

Suddenly aware that any further attempts to ask for his assistance were futile, Darcy let her head drop with a grimace and the silken wheat-coloured hair that had escaped from her loosely arranged topknot glided down over her cheekbones. She could only pray it was helping to disguise the shock and fear that were pulsating through her. Surrendering to weakness for even the shortest time was anathema to her. The last time she had done such a thing it had cost her dear.

‘Who is this doctor, anyway, and will he call an ambulance?’

‘You do not need an ambulance. The doctor who is coming is the Sheikh’s very own physician. He is highly qualified and has an apartment here.’

‘Then I don’t suppose I have much choice but to wait for him. I hope he’s got some strong painkillers.’

‘If you need to take painkillers then you also need water. Do you want me to call someone to inform them that you have had an accident?’

Darcy’s heartbeat rapidly quickened. Her mother would hardly take the news calmly. Not when she was apt to turn the slightest mishap into a drama worthy of a soap opera. The last thing she wanted was for her parent’s anxiety to spill over to her little boy and worry him.

‘No. I don’t... Thanks all the same.’ Her smile at the guard was tentatively hopeful, but she suspected he didn’t believe a word she said.

Because of the dwindling daylight, she hadn’t noticed the two figures hurriedly heading towards them from the manor house. But she noticed them now. There was definitely the suggestion of urgency in their quickened steps as they started to run.

Deliberately glancing away, Darcy winced as she rubbed at her swollen ankle.

Would the next people to arrive on the scene be the police, to charge her with breaking and entering?

As if intuiting her distress, her companion dropped down in front of her and consolingly patted her arm. Her blue eyes widened in surprise. His behaviour was hardly typical of any security official she knew of. But just then, when she was feeling alone and frightened, despite her fake bravado, the man’s kindness was appreciated.

‘The doctor will soon tend to your ankle. Do not distress yourself unduly.’

‘I’m not distressed. I’m just angry that I climbed the wall. I meant no harm by it. I just wanted to take a peek at the house in the hope that...in the hope that if I saw the Sheikh I might speak with him.’

Her teeth clamped down on her lip as the man’s perusal suddenly grew more interested, and she found herself hostage to an uncharacteristic wave of self-pity.

With her voice quavering, she said, ‘I read in the newspaper that he had moved here. I used to work for him, you know?’

‘Then if you wanted to see him again, you should have rung his office and made an appointment.’

‘I’ve tried doing that, many times, but I was told by his secretary that he had to agree to it first. She never got back to me, no matter how many times I tried. In truth, I don’t think he even got my messages.’

‘I am sure he did. Perhaps His Highness has his reasons for not contacting you?’

‘Rashid.’

The deep bass voice behind them had them both immediately turning their heads. The impressive Arabian attire of the owner of the voice added to Darcy’s profound sense of shock when her gaze fell upon his features. His sublimely carved face was etched deep into her memory, but the last time she’d seen it their time together had culminated in a deed that had devastatingly broken her heart. Yet, despite that, her instinct was to greet him with familiarity.

Zafir...

Thankfully she checked the impulse just in time. His haunting black eyes were staring at her hard, she saw, piercing her like the glowing points of a dagger. Although she shuddered, she still drank him in, realising that although he looked a little older he was still as handsome as sin and must still set women’s hearts fluttering from here to Kathmandu.

He had also grown his hair.

It fell way past his magnificent shoulders in glossy black waves. The disturbing recollection that the dark strands were like the finest silk to touch made her guiltily yearn to experience running her fingers through the new length...

‘The young lady fell off the wall, Your Highness,’ the guard interjected, sounding inexplicably protective, ‘and she is hurt.’

‘Hurting is what she is good at.’

Stung by the bitterly voiced statement, Darcy opened her mouth to protest. He was the one who was good at hurting...not her. Or had he so quickly erased that little fact from his memory?

‘What are you doing here, and why are you trespassing on my property?’

‘I’ll tell you why—because you wouldn’t take my calls or return my messages. You wouldn’t even let me make an appointment to see you. God knows how many times I’ve tried. This was a last resort. In all honesty I would have preferred to have left you alone...but I had to see you.’

His glance suspicious, the autocratic man in front of her responded grimly, ‘I have never, to my knowledge, received any such messages.’

Darcy’s mouth turned sickeningly dry. ‘You’re joking? Why wouldn’t you have received them? I always told your secretary that it was urgent and confidential. Why didn’t she believe me?’

‘Never mind that right now... If what you say is true then I will be making my investigations. More to the point, what is the reason you want to see me, Darcy? Did you not believe me when I said I never wanted to set eyes on you again? You could hardly have expected any good to come out of our meeting.’

He leaned down to her, and even as she breathed in the exotic scent of agar that highlighted his cologne she saw the expression on his carved face was disturbingly accusing.

‘How long have you known that I was here?’

Her eyes widened nervously. ‘I only recently found out. There was an article in the newspaper.’

‘And you saw the opportunity to get back at me for what happened in the past?’

Her blood ran cold for a moment. ‘No! That wasn’t the reason I wanted to find you, Zafir. Did you imagine my aim was to try and blackmail you in some way? If you think that then you couldn’t be more wrong.’ Tears stung the backs of her eyelids like hot springs. Swallowing hard, she continued, ‘The article said that you are engaged to be married.’

‘And no doubt you want to congratulate me?’

‘Don’t make light of my pain like that.’

As was her habit, when she was fuming at some injustice or another, she indignantly folded her arms. The movement was a little sharp, and it somehow ricocheted down to her injured ankle. She wasn’t able to suppress the groan of pain that rose up inside her.

His ebony eyes darkening in concern, Zafir turned to his immaculately suited companion. ‘Dr Eden. Please give the young lady some water and take a look at her ankle...now. It might be broken.’

Appalled that that might be the case, with a tremulous sweep of her hand Darcy pushed back her hair and stared. ‘I’m sure you’d relish that, wouldn’t you?’ She all but grabbed at the silver flask that was proffered and imbibed a deep gulp of icy liquid before she said anything else.

As he rose to his full height, the Sheikh’s expression was clearly perturbed. ‘While you deserve to be punished for what you did to me, I do not take any pleasure in the fact that you have been injured. And just one more thing’

As the slim, middle-aged doctor lithely dropped down to his haunches to examine her foot, the Arabian’s black eyes glinted a warning.

‘Do not call me Zafir. The use of that name is permitted only to a select circle of family and friends and clearly, Miss Carrick, you should speak in deference to the hierarchy of my position...you are my subordinate.’

It jolted her that he’d used her surname, and it gave her little satisfaction that he’d so strongly emphasised the ‘subordinate’ part. The suggestion of fury in his voice made her heart contract even more. She hadn’t immediately succumbed to tears at this latest encounter with him but Darcy felt like crying now.

Once upon a time she’d loved this man more than life itself. Now he sounded as though he hated her. And all because he’d believed his brother’s vindictive lies...

‘Although I can’t say for certain until it’s X-rayed, I think what we have here is a severe sprain, Miss Carrick.’

The doctor’s slim, cool fingers were gently checking her bones for breakage and prodding the puffy skin around her ankle to inspect it. Straight away his calm assertion along with his professional expertise reinstated her hope that things weren’t as disastrous as she’d feared.

A relieved sigh escaped her but then she quickly frowned. Just who did she think she was kidding? Things were about as disastrous as they could get. And, having intuited the mood he was in, she suspected that Zafir didn’t intend to let her get off lightly for shinning up his garden wall in order to force a meeting. He was the eldest son of the ruling family in the kingdom of Zachariah, and consequently not just important but powerful too, and she knew that if her motivation hadn’t been solely to tell him that he had a son and heir she would never have attempted to see him at all.

How many times did a person’s self-esteem have to be stamped into the ground before they were forced to admit defeat and walk away?

‘We should take you into the house so that we can make some arrangements for your care,’ Dr Eden added, his grey eyes flicking towards his impressive employer for confirmation.

The first man to help her reacted first, quickly assuming what must be his esteemed position as the Sheikh’s chief security guard. ‘I will go and get a stretcher, Your Highness.’

‘That won’t be necessary, Rashid,’ Zafir flashed, his icy gaze irritably scanning Darcy as she sat hunched on the new-mown lawn, massaging her ankle. ‘I will carry Miss Carrick over to the house myself.’

Her immediate declaration of indignation at being treated like some extraneous piece of baggage died on her lips. In her more forgiving moments, when she’d flirted with the unlikely idea of somehow meeting up with Zafir again and having a frank conversation with him about what had really happened back then, it hadn’t been like this. No, never like this... The warm, funny, erudite man she’d once worked for and fallen in love with was a very different person from the cold, embittered stranger she was faced with now.

Biting her lip, she murmured, ‘I think I’d rather crawl.’

She didn’t know if he’d heard her, but to add insult to injury he easily dropped down to lift her into his arms.

‘I hope you don’t have an accomplice in this little escapade of yours? If you do, no doubt he is long gone. Perhaps he found out that you were not so bewitching after all, and sensibly took the opportunity to flee when he had the chance?’

Swallowing down her hurt that he so naturally assumed she’d been with another man and up to no good, Darcy schooled herself to stay silent instead of reacting. But her senses were awash with pain, and a regret that thundered like a raging river in her blood.

Could he not see beyond his own prejudiced beliefs and realise the truth? Clearly not...

Without further preamble, he swept her up and marched towards the house, with the effete doctor in front and Rashid following behind—no doubt his gaze diligently sweeping the area in case anything else untoward threatened. She didn’t dwell on that for long, because now her senses had to contend with the unexpected intimacy of being pressed firmly against the Arabian’s chest, knowing that he took no pleasure in the sensation and that all he must feel for her was contempt.

* * *

Zafir’s heart was beating double time as he carried Darcy over to the sumptuous couch in the drawing room. In his wildest dreams he’d never thought to have the opportunity to hold her again like this. When he’d banished her from his sight over four years ago he’d sworn he wouldn’t even think of her. But something had told him even then that he was lying. The beautiful face that he’d always likened to his vision of an angel was etched on his heart, whether he wanted it to be or not.

As he helped lower her gently onto the sofa’s plumped-up cushions it was no easy task, when her bewitching perfume kept infiltrating his senses and he noted that her extraordinary blue eyes still had the ability to dazzle him more than ever.

But he would be a fool if he forgot for even an instant that this woman had cruelly betrayed him. If their relationship had progressed he would have given her everything—not least his undying love and devotion—but she had thoughtlessly ruined it all by fooling around behind his back and making a play for his own brother.

Her behaviour was beyond belief. Pretending devotion was clearly just a game to her. With her angelic face and no doubt practised feminine wiles, likely she could twist any man who took her fancy round her little finger and have her way. His brother Xavier had warned him more than once what she was capable of—although Zafir knew his notoriously charming sibling was apt to bend the truth from time to time.

But blood was thicker than water, he told himself and how could he not believe what he’d seen with his very own eyes?

In the aftermath of that shocking incident Xavier had wasted no time in giving him further details of what Darcy was really like, saying he’d seen the way she operated at the bank the family owned long before Zafir had appeared to run the head office in London.

The cruel scene he’d witnessed had brought an end to all his hopes. He’d found Darcy in a heated embrace with Xavier.

Her features had radiated her shock and dismay when he’d suddenly surprised them by coming into the room, and immediately she’d denied any wrongdoing. Instead she’d insisted that she’d been trying to get away from Xavier, not willingly embracing him! That in truth Zafir’s brother had been harassing her—had been doing so for months. It was he who should be penalised, not her...

‘Tell the housekeeper to get a drink for my unexpected visitor.’ After addressing Rashid, Zafir turned back immediately, to keep Darcy in his sight—although under the circumstances it would take nothing less than a miracle for her to be able to run away. ‘What is your preference, Miss Carrick? Tea or coffee?’

The glance he gave her was neither friendly nor particularly polite. He wasn’t going to grant the woman any dispensation—that was for sure. Aside from her previous misdemeanours, she had now made an unbelievable attempt to break into his house.

‘Neither.’

It was hard not to be moved by the look of anxiety he saw reflected in the blonde’s vivid blue eyes and, strangely, it bothered Zafir more than it should have. Was she honestly not concerned that he might call the police and prosecute her for trespass? There was no reason why he shouldn’t, he told himself. No matter what had gone on between them in the past, he certainly didn’t owe her any allegiance.

‘I—I just want to know what you intend to do about all this,’ she said nervously.

‘Forgive me for interrupting, Your Highness,’ Dr Eden interjected firmly as he came and stood by the sofa where Darcy was lying. ‘But, whatever you decide to do, I’d advise that we get Miss Carrick to the hospital first, so that her injury can be X-rayed.’

Coming out of the stupor he’d fallen into while gazing at Darcy, Zafir nodded abruptly. Retrieving his mobile phone from the inside pocket of the Arabian khandoura he wore, he accessed the number of one of London’s most exclusive private hospitals to which he had a direct line. Glancing back at his visitor as he requested an ambulance, he had a sudden notion that she might be going into shock. She was definitely looking a little flushed, and her eyelids had fluttered closed as though she barely had the strength to keep them open.

‘Dr Eden.’ He authoritatively addressed the medic. ‘I must ask you to take Miss Carrick’s temperature. It is my opinion that she looks more than a little unwell.’

‘Do not be too concerned, Your Highness,’ the doctor reassured him. ‘It is quite a natural reaction for a person to feel faint after an accident, but I will gladly do as you ask.’

‘Good.’

A short time later, satisfied with the doctor’s assurance that Darcy’s rise in temperature was not significant enough to be worried about, Zafir waited impatiently for the ambulance to arrive. In turn, their patient had become particularly quiet. She was clearly lost in a mysterious landscape of her own.

He had no idea what she might be thinking. Once upon a time he wouldn’t have had to speculate. He had been as intimately attuned to her thoughts and feelings as any man in love could be, and he still carried the grief of her betrayal like a suppurating wound that would never heal.

The sound of an ambulance siren pierced the room’s growing preternatural stillness, and it had the same impact as a lightning bolt flashing outside.

As Zafir hurried across the oak floor, with Rashid behind him, he called out over his shoulder to the doctor. ‘Keep a watch on Miss Carrick. Don’t let her out of your sight!’

‘What do you think I’m going to do? Perform some kind of magic trick and make myself disappear? I wish,’ Darcy grumbled sarcastically.

Zafir didn’t waste time with a response. He was already at the door, throwing it wide in order to hurry out into the hallway. Addressing the man at the front door, who introduced himself as the chief paramedic, he guided him and the two other crew members into the drawing room. Darcy was resting her back against the curve of the elegant couch, as though it had taken the strain off of the accident, but in spite of her little outburst just now she wasn’t able to hide the fact that she was worried.

So was Zafir. Right then, he honestly didn’t know what he was going to do about the consequences of her fall from his garden wall or her startling reappearance into his life. In truth, he was still knocked sideways at seeing her again. And as yet he hadn’t decided whether to prosecute her or not. Most people in his privileged circle wouldn’t hesitate to throw the book at her.

Hadn’t he learned that she wasn’t to be trusted? people would say. That she was nothing but a sly opportunist...a Jezebel.

He could almost hear the condemning words echo round his brain. Wasting no more time in deliberating—that would have to wait until they had the X-ray results—he instructed the paramedics to do what they had to do and transport her into the ambulance.

She was wearing jeans, a deep blue woollen sweater and a short mustard-coloured jacket. And as the paramedics expertly lifted her slender frame onto a stretcher Zafir observed that she’d grown a little thinner since he’d seen her last. Had she been eating properly?

He remembered that she’d often lose her appetite when she was stressed, and even though he knew he shouldn’t give a jot if something was troubling her, knew that Darcy was nothing to him any more, he gruffly declared, ‘I will accompany my guest to the hospital.’

‘Of course, Your Highness,’ the paramedic responded. ‘Just to reassure you, I think it’s going to be a very straightforward procedure. The young lady will soon be as right as rain again—you’ll see.’

He was a slightly overweight, cheerful-looking man of forty-plus, with a receding hairline—one of those dependable sorts that the great British public would probably describe as ‘the salt of the earth’. And, oddly, Zafir was reassured—at least for a minute or two.

* * *

When the attentive medical staff at the hospital stretchered Darcy into an examination room, Zafir came with her. Before they’d entered Dr Eden had given them his own efficient assessment and, in deference to his colleagues, told his employer that he would wait for him outside.

All of these events hardly reassured Darcy. The familiar scent associated with anything medical, along with the forbidding-looking examination couch, made her feel queasy, and Zafir’s daunting aristocratic presence even more so. But the most pressing thing of all on her mind was her son. At present Sami was in the care of her mother, because she was babysitting him, but what if she had to tell her that she needed to stay in hospital for the night?

Darcy had never told her mother who Sami’s father was, and she contemplated how she would couch her words in order to cause the least anxiety. She knew her mother would think she’d lost her mind—climbing the walls of the Sheikh’s home in an attempt to speak to him. Especially when she’d ended up spraining her ankle.

Was it worth it? She could hear her mother ask. You should have gone down the proper route of arranging a meeting with him, no matter how long it took. Look at what you’ve risked!

Darcy’s heart suddenly felt as heavy as a boulder inside her chest.

And that would be before she conveyed to her mother the fact that her ex-employer had been furious at her finding him even before she’d told him that he’d left her pregnant and that he now had a son.

Seeing as he was now engaged to be married, the news would hardly be the best he could receive. But, at the same time, what would the repercussions be for her? What if he immediately demanded custody of Sami? Or...worse still...wanted to take him back to Zachariah, away from her and all he had known for the past four years? That didn’t bear thinking about.

CHAPTER TWO

DARCY HAD A splint and a crepe bandage fitted round her injured ankle. Thankfully, the X-ray had revealed no broken bones, but Darcy had badly torn the ligaments and would need at least three weeks’ complete rest to help them start to heal—beginning with one full night at the hospital so that the medical staff could keep an eye on her.

That was the part that alarmed her the most. The swish, luxurious medical facility was clearly private, and there was no way on earth she could afford to spend any of her hard-earned cash on a stay here. It was essential she get home.

Zafir had gone to consult with the doctor and her need to talk to him was growing ever more urgent. The tension she was feeling was near unbearable. But just then he returned, and his arresting presence stirred the air. There was no sign of Rashid or Dr Eden.

The impact Zafir made in his impressive garb hit her anew. With his chiselled, strong-boned features and flowing dark hair his commanding appearance was enough to render anyone speechless. He was simply magnificent.

Propped up by a couple of plump pillows in the hospital bed, with her ankle elevated, Darcy felt her heart bump nervously against her ribs. She couldn’t help feeling a little intimidated. Instinct told her that with all the drama of her fall perhaps now wasn’t the right time to tell him about Sami, even though it was the sole reason she’d gone to his house.

Perhaps her confession should take place under more conducive circumstances? If she could arrange such a scenario, might he view her sudden unsettling appearance in his life more favourably?

Impulsively, she reached for his hand. Having not told her mother that she’d be back late, she felt her fears about spending the night away from her young son escalating.

‘I can’t possibly stay the night here, Zafir. I need to get home. There—there’s something important I have to do.’

Mesmerised, he stared down at the slender hand clasping his as if he couldn’t quite believe it was hers. Then he lifted his head, and where previously his dark eyes had been entranced, they were now hard with suspicion. Obviously he wasn’t going to be extending an olive branch to her any time soon.

‘What do you have to do that’s so important?’ he demanded. ‘Is it that you want to tell your accomplice you were unsuccessful in breaking into my house? Is that what you need to do, Darcy? Will there be repercussions for you if you don’t get home tonight?’

Wrenching back her hand, she flushed indignantly. ‘For goodness’ sake—once and for all, I wasn’t trying to break in and I don’t have an accomplice. Do you think I’ve become so desperate and vengeful since you fired me that I’d resort to breaking in to your house when I learnt you were there?’

‘I cannot attest to knowing what you’d resort to, Darcy. Once upon a time I thought I knew who you were,’ he said soberly, ‘but clearly I didn’t. As for your reasons for turning up at my residence in such a dramatic way—I am his Royal Highness Sheikh Zafir el-Kalil of Zachariah, and naturally my wealth and position draws attention...not all of it innocent.’

Distraught that he clearly still thought she was a liar, when all she’d ever done was stay loyal to him and give him her devotion, she found his words hard to bear. But suddenly part of his statement registered more emphatically.

‘I’ve just realised... That was your father’s title, wasn’t it? I mean...he was the Sheikh of Zachariah, wasn’t he? Are you saying that he’s passed away and now you’re the...?’

‘Sheikh of the kingdom... Yes, I am.’

It was as though a shutter had slammed down over his enigmatic gaze and rendered his feelings impossible to read. Was he still grieving? He must be. Darcy knew that father and son had been close.

As she twisted her hands together she felt genuine sympathy, unsullied by the turbulent waters that flowed between them. She knew only too well what it meant to lose a devoted father. And once upon a time Zafir had told her how much he loved and admired his esteemed parent, and one day hoped to display some of the wisdom and knowledge he was revered for himself.

‘I’m sorry... I mean I’m sorry for your loss,’ she added softly.

For a brief moment it looked as if the mistrust and suspicion in his eyes had lessened. But very quickly his expression was stony again, and it brought her firmly back to the present.

Raising his chin, he remarked, ‘As I was saying, my position inevitably draws attention and not all of it is welcome. I am fully aware that those who are unscrupulous might try and steal from me from time to time.’

‘Well, I’m not one of those.’ Her brilliant blue eyes didn’t hide her dismay. ‘And there’s nothing I want that I would be prepared to steal from anyone...certainly not anything material. If I couldn’t buy it for myself then I’d just as soon forget it.’

‘Then what is this urgent need you have to see me? The reason for all the messages you say you left at my office...messages that I never received?’

‘I wanted to tell you about that in private. Somewhere we can speak freely.’

The expression on his face told Darcy that she was sorely testing him. His glance impatiently swept the room before returning to rest on her. ‘This is private enough. You might not get another chance.’

‘Why? Do you despise me so much that you can’t bear the thought of seeing me again?’

Hearing the disturbing catch in her voice, Zafir was alarmed. Could any man despise a woman who looked like she did?

He remembered the day she’d walked into his office, having been assigned to him as his PA. He had arranged that the bank’s administrative manager would select someone for him, as it would be one less thing for him to do on his arrival from Zachariah, and the man who had selected Darcy from the pool of highly qualified secretaries the bank employed had assured him that she was one of the best. Having read her credentials, Zafir had agreed.

When he’d finally met her, his heart had stalled in surprise and pleasure. Her beauty had been the ethereal kind that romantic poets wrote the most exquisite accolades to...

All thoughts of work and the demanding schedule he’d had ahead of him had been instantly forgotten. Being a red-blooded, virile male, all he’d been able to think about was what it would be like to seduce her.

He’d never before experienced wanting a woman as much as he’d wanted Darcy. Her shapely body and golden hair had captivated him from the very first. And it hadn’t been only that. As he’d begun to get to know her he’d realised she had so many more attributes for him to admire. Kindness, generosity, and a ready smile no matter what she might be feeling. All came to her as easily as breathing, it had seemed.

A mere week later, having developed the habit of calling her in to his office more regularly than was strictly necessary—either on the pretext of taking dictation or to look over some ‘important correspondence’ with him—he had known he was falling in love...

Now, pushing his long hair back from his face, he immediately honed his gaze in on her tearful eyes. ‘I don’t despise you,’ he said throatily. ‘What is it you want to say? You may as well tell me now.’

Breathing out a sigh, he dropped down beside her on the bed, taking care not to jolt her elevated ankle. She immediately looked startled, then she quickly collected herself.

‘All right, then. After you dismissed me... I—I found out that I was pregnant.’

There was a sudden deafening silence inside Zafir’s head. The intensity of it, along with his racing heartbeat, tuned out any other sound. He likened it to standing in the vicinity of an explosion. When he finally composed himself, he considered the possibility that he might be dreaming. She had been pregnant? How could that be? He’d always made sure to protect her.

He was suddenly furious. ‘Is this some kind of twisted joke you’re playing on me, Darcy? I always took care to protect you from such an event. If you were pregnant, then the baby couldn’t have been mine. Are you telling me that it was my brother’s?’

The very idea made him feel sick to his stomach.

‘I know you don’t regard me very highly, but that’s a vile accusation. The baby I had is yours, Zafir...your son. That first time we were together neither of us were as careful as we should have been. I’d started taking the pill, but I hadn’t been taking it long enough before we...before we spent the night together. Even though we’d planned it, everything happened so fast—don’t you remember? We could barely contain our feelings.’

She meant that they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other.

Even now the memory made him feel weak with longing. But at the back of his mind it suddenly nagged at him that in the throes of a desire as powerful and urgent as theirs had been he probably hadn’t been as diligent with protection as he should have.

The evening they’d first become intimate had been when he’d taken her to one of the newest and most exclusive hotels in London. They had only stayed one night, but Zafir had made sure it was a night she would remember. He’d arranged for the lavish bed to be strewn with rose petals and the luxurious suite to be scented with a rare perfume that he’d had flown in from Zachariah. There had been nothing he wouldn’t have done to help Darcy feel as if she was the centre of his universe...to show her that he was devoted to her happiness.

But later, when he’d learnt that she’d been cheating on him, his hopes that they would share the most joyous future together, that he would even go against tradition and make her his Queen, had shatteringly blown up in his face. And now she was telling him that he’d left her pregnant...

Zafir was glad he was sitting down. He felt as if he was in the middle of a storm whose power threatened to unbalance him no matter how hard he fought to stay upright. It wasn’t the first time he’d reflected that he might have made the most terrible mistake when he’d let her go. But now, faced with the damning consequences of that decision—as well as wanting to somehow put things right—he needed to absorb the real possibility that he was a father. And if he was, he now had an heir.

His dearest wish had seemingly come to pass and he hadn’t even known it. But the cruelty of doubt, of not being able to receive the news with any real confidence, still tormented him. Could he really have been such an utter fool back then when he’d fired her? Was he really the father of her son?

But as he examined her more closely he couldn’t help but warm to the idea. ‘Was I honestly so irresponsible as not to use protection the first time we made love?’

Darcy flushed. ‘We were so crazy for each other that I don’t think either of us had time to think about anything much...let alone be sensible.’

Remembering, Zafir was suffused by heat similar to that of a hot air current that swept across the desert sands. No one could turn him on as she had.

But he quickly returned to her story. ‘Do you have any idea of what it means for someone in my position to have a son? It means that the ancient dynastic line of my forebears will continue. Nothing can bring greater satisfaction and purpose than that.’

His mind was racing with the implications of the news and how it was going to affect not just his life and his family’s, but the people of Zachariah too.

‘I’m glad that it’s important to you. So, am I right in thinking that you want to be involved in our son’s life?’

‘If he is my son, then of course I want to be involved in his life. Did you not hear what I just said?’

‘But...’ Again, Darcy turned pink. ‘What about your fiancée? Won’t she want to have a say in any decision you make about that? It’s surely going to come as a great shock to her that you have a son by someone else?’

Realising that he’d barely given his bride-to-be a thought since setting eyes on Darcy again, Zafir knew that he had to get out of marrying a woman he didn’t love and had no chance of ever loving. He actually welcomed the idea of extricating himself from the arrangement.

Farrida came from a powerful Arabian family that was as wealthy and privileged as his own, and they’d known each other for years, but in truth she was a cold fish. She might be one of the most beautiful women in the kingdom, with an impeccable pedigree, but she had grown up utterly spoilt. Consequently she thought only of herself.

Zafir had only agreed to the marriage because—as his mother regularly reminded him—at some time or other he would have to produce an heir. He needed to put his duty first, and his union with Farrida would be considered highly advantageous by both families.

‘Why don’t you let me deal with that,’ he replied tersely, ‘and focus on getting your ankle better?’

‘You must know I’m concerned about the fact you’re getting married? It will have implications for me—and my son too. It’s been a long, hard road with just my mum to help me with the childcare, so I can work and earn the money we need, and though I won’t deny it would be helpful to have your support I don’t want to risk losing Sami if you decide to sue for joint custody. Will you agree to his still living with me? When you talk about “dynastic lines”, it worries me. I’ve wanted to tell you about our child for so long...but, as I said, I could never get through to you. When I read that you were getting married I knew it was more important than ever that you had the news.’

‘And the boy... Sami...he is four now?’

‘Yes.’

Darcy saw his glance soften for a moment as he seemed to take the time to reacquaint himself with her features. He followed it up with a lingering examination of her wheaten hair. He had always been fascinated by it... But she brought an abrupt halt to the memory when she started to remember how he’d loved to run his fingers through it.

It was perhaps fortunate when he quickly reverted to his previous less than friendly stance.

‘I confess I am still having trouble believing all this, Darcy. I have plenty of reasons not to believe you...remember?’

His statement sent cold shivers scudding down her backbone. She saw that she still had to deal with his suspicion and mistrust.

‘I never lied to you. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. You weren’t the only one who was hurt by what happened. Not only did you think I was a liar and a cheat, but I also had to suffer the humiliation of being fired from my job as though...as though I was worthless. What happened wounded me more than you can possibly imagine. Let me go home, Zafir. Please,’ she implored. ‘I really do have to get back tonight. I give you my word that I’ll be there should you want to discuss any plans concerning our son.’

He seemed to stare into her eyes for a very long time before he spoke, but she found no reassurance in his gaze...anything but. In those endless few seconds Darcy felt as if she was standing in front of a pitiless magistrate who was just about to condemn her to a prison cell for life. Was there nothing she could say that would move him?

‘No matter how I feel personally about your predicament,’ he remarked, ‘in all conscience I cannot allow the hospital to discharge you tonight. You will have to stay here until tomorrow, when the doctor will re-examine you. After that, if I am satisfied they have done all that they can to aid your recovery, you can, of course, go home. But you can be sure I will be taking your details.’

‘Why? Because you want to see Sami or because you still intend to prosecute me for trespass?’

Now her eyes did fill with tears.

His returning glance was unperturbed, and cool as iced water. ‘To see my son, of course. I don’t intend prosecution now I’ve learned the reason for your trying to break into the house.’

Sniffing, Darcy blotted her tears with the back of her hand. She bit her lip at his reference to her trying to break in. ‘Good. But as to staying here for the night—I couldn’t afford to, even if I was at death’s door. Not all of us have money to burn like...’

‘Like me? Is that what you were going to say?’

Shrugging his shoulders, as though it didn’t disturb him one iota what she thought, Zafir started to walk away. But then he suddenly stopped dead and turned towards her.

Piercing her with eyes as black and mysterious as a moonless night, he breathed, ‘You will not have to pay this particular bill, Darcy, I will. But do not doubt you will have to recompense me...one way or another.’

As the door of the room swung closed behind him she dropped her head back onto the pillows and stared wildly up at the ceiling. Her physical discomfort had eased, thanks to the pain medication kicking in, but she didn’t know how she was going to relay the extraordinary events that had happened to her mother. And all because she’d finally taken matters into her own hands and recklessly sought Zafir out at his resplendent home...

* * *

Coming face to face with Darcy again did not help Zafir to sleep easily in his bed that night. The magic the woman weaved around him was like a drugging opiate that was impossible to resist, and when he was near her he felt like an addict on a recovery programme.

It was well over four years since he had seen her and at last he’d thought he’d got used to the idea that he would never see her again. But fate, it seemed, had had other plans. If it turned out to be the truth that he’d left her pregnant, then his whole life would change now that he had a son and heir.

Just as he was about to drift off to sleep he recalled the memory of her telling him how much she’d been hurt too—more than he would ever know. Now he knew what she’d meant—knew that she’d been pregnant by him when he’d fired her from her post—he felt like the cruellest tyrant imaginable for misjudging and abandoning her. But he still couldn’t be sure she hadn’t cheated on him with his brother, and until he was the idea would hang over him like Damocles’ sword.

Waking early, Zafir hastily showered and dressed, then immediately instructed his chauffeur to drive him to the hospital. Half expecting Darcy to have somehow found a way of escaping, despite the fact that he had left Rashid guarding her door and she couldn’t presently so much as put her foot to the floor, he couldn’t suppress his relief when he saw her sitting on top of the hospital bed, fully dressed. She looked a little peaky, and she didn’t seem best pleased to see him.

‘Oh, it’s you.’

Wanting to smile, he didn’t. The situation was far too serious for any levity. ‘Yes, it’s me. Did you manage to get any sleep last night?’

‘What do you care if I did or I didn’t?’

‘Don’t be such a child.’

‘I just want to get out of here and go home.’

She impatiently smoothed back a stray corn-gold strand of hair from her face, and her stare was defiant.

Zafir shook his head. ‘You are going nowhere until I speak with the doctor—and even then not until you give me your phone number and address.’

* * *

That had sounded like a veiled threat, not something even remotely reassuring. Inside, Darcy’s emotions clamoured. Wasn’t it enough that he’d already stamped her heart into the ground and caused irreversible damage?

A mournful sigh escaped her. The reason she’d been so determined to confront him was because they had a son together...she should never forget that.

‘I already told you I’d give them to you. I want to give you the chance to step up to your responsibilities—at the very least I thought you’d want that. And, more importantly, I want my son to know his father and likewise for you to get to know him and be proud of him.’

His tanned brow furrowed. Did she imagine she saw the shadow of pain and regret in his glance?

‘I would want all those things too,’ he agreed soberly, ‘if he is indeed my son.’

Her stomach lurched at the idea he still didn’t believe her.

‘In any case, I intend to maintain contact with you. But right now I will go and tell the nurse we’d like to see the doctor.’

Darcy had no choice but to stay put. But when the time came she hoped she would be able to ring for a cab to take her home. She didn’t want to resume relations with Zafir by feeling obligated. It was one thing having his support for Sami—if he gave it—and quite another having him lay down the law about what she did.

The question was would she be allowed to leave the hospital without any further intervention from him? It was hard to guess. The way her luck was going probably not.

When Zafir returned, she asked hopefully, ‘Will I be discharged after I’ve seen the doctor?’

‘We will soon find out. A nurse is coming to transport you to the examination room as we speak.’

A short while later Darcy nervously submitted to the doctor’s examination of her swollen ankle. As Zafir watched the proceedings she saw his gaze was steely-eyed and serious.

Faint with worry, she mulled over the possible outcomes. What if they wanted to keep her here for another night? If that happened, what would she do? She was hardly in a position just to walk out. It went without saying that her mother would insist on visiting her, and if that happened by necessity she would have to bring Sami with her. It was a Saturday and the school week was over. But if Sami saw her in hospital she knew he would be distressed, seeing her incapacitated like this...

‘Well, Ms Carrick, the outcome of your injury is presenting just as I expected. While it is very sore now, the ankle should heal beautifully if you take the proper care and rest. No doubt you must be relieved you didn’t break any bones although you will still have to take some time off work.’

‘Thank you. I am relieved that it’s not as bad as I feared. All I want to do now is go home.’

‘That is completely understandable, but first you must see our physiotherapist to be given some walking aids. When you have those, you may leave. The final thing I want to do is to tell you that you’re a very fortunate young woman to have been aided by such a personage as the Sheikh of Zachariah himself.’

The doctor was hardly adept at concealing his curiosity as he peered at her more closely.

For his part, Zafir detected the man’s too interested examination of Darcy’s features straight away. Was he imagining that the delicate blonde with the angelic visage was his mistress? He didn’t know why right then, but it seriously aggravated him.

‘It won’t be necessary for you to guide us to the physiotherapist, Dr Khan. A nurse can just as easily escort us.’

‘As you wish, Your Highness.’

The doctor beamed and smiled, but Zafir didn’t miss the brief flash of anxiety that flickered across the heavily lidded eyes. He could tell the man wasn’t quite sure whether his services had pleased him or not, and no matter how admired he was in his field he wouldn’t want to risk losing the Sheikh’s patronage under any circumstances.

* * *

‘I don’t know why you thought I needed a wheelchair, Zaf—Your Highness.’ Colouring in embarrassment beneath the too astute scrutiny of Rashid, as he parked her chair by the side of his boss’s gleaming black car, she privately cursed Zafir’s insistence that she refrain from using his name because she was supposedly his subordinate.

The devastation she’d endured that day when he’d cruelly told her he didn’t want anything to do with her any more was still able to wound her grievously. It wasn’t unlike the symptoms of post-traumatic stress in that it was ever-present—it never went away. That being the case, she couldn’t—wouldn’t pretend that their association had been a casual one, no matter how high he’d risen in the meantime.

‘It’s not that difficult to manoeuvre a couple of walking sticks.’

The Sheikh’s velvety dark brows came together in a forbidding frown. ‘Why am I not surprised you would say that? I shouldn’t have forgotten how stubborn you can be. Stop making a fuss and I will help you get into the car.’

All of a sudden he clicked opened the strap that secured her and, as Rashid held open the door, lifted her bodily into the car. Carefully arranging her bandaged ankle in the footwell, he briskly fastened her seatbelt and ordered his guard to take care of the crutches. Then, without even sparing her so much as a cursory glance, he sat down next to her. Rashid climbed in next to the driver.

Once more the sensual scent of exotic agar drifted beneath Darcy’s nose, whilst the heat from her companion’s body seemed to reach out to meld with her own. Pursing her lips, she wondered forlornly if anyone had recorded how fast a woman’s heart beat when the love of her life acted as if it was a penance even to be in the same vicinity as her. Was there, in fact, a record for such a thing?

To stave off her distress, she blurted out, ‘When I get home you don’t have to come in with me. I can manage perfectly well using my walking aids.’

The man beside her turned slowly to survey her. ‘Save your breath, Darcy, and listen to me. No matter how much you try to reassure me, I make no apologies for insisting that I accompany you. It would be remiss of me to take you home after your accident and then not come in with you to ensure you have everything you need and are safe.’

Now her heart beat hard for a different reason. He was going to meet their son for the very first time. What would he say? What would he do?

Sami was a sensitive little boy and was likely to be overwhelmed by the intimidating sight of Zafir unless she prepared him first. For all her quick thinking and bravado, how on earth was she going to deal with that?

CHAPTER THREE

DARCY HAD BOTH feared and longed for Zafir to meet his son, and it was hard to believe that at long last it was going to happen. Yet when the car pulled up outside the modest townhouse in the leafy London suburb where she lived, her fear about their meeting felt as if it might choke her.

She couldn’t attest to being sure of him at all. What if he demanded custody of Sami in order to punish her because she hadn’t told him about the pregnancy straight away? He was a powerful man with access to the best lawyers in the world. What was to stop him from suing her?

Moistening her dried lips, she nervously met his inscrutable dark gaze. ‘You don’t have to carry me into the house,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m happy to go in the wheelchair.’

‘Good.’

For a few seconds he seemed amused, but she knew she shouldn’t be fooled by some imagined sense of his warmth towards her. Not when he was so sure she’d wronged him.

The faithful Rashid remained waiting outside the car at a signal from his boss, and he watched and waited as His Highness helped her into the wheelchair. Steering her towards the front door, Zafir reached up to ring the bell.

Darcy felt sick to her stomach. It was only natural that she should anticipate the worst, she reasoned. This man was no longer her employer and one-time lover...he was now an unknown entity and a serious threat to all she held dear.

Quickly delving into her jacket pocket, she produced her key just in time. ‘You don’t need to ring the bell. I have my key.’

‘Then give it to me and I’ll let us in. Will there be anybody here to help you while your ankle heals?’ His tanned brow furrowed, as if the notion that there might not be perturbed him.

Dropping the key into his palm, she scarcely felt able to reply. But in the next instant he’d wheeled her into the carpeted hallway and the only sound that greeted her was the ticking of the grandfather clock...the clock that had once been her dad’s pride and joy. Other than that, the house was quiet.

‘Sami and I live with my mum, but I think she must have gone out.’

Shutting the door behind them, he commented, ‘I take it that means you don’t have a husband?’

Planting himself firmly in front of her, the handsome Arabian folded his arms across his chest, leaving her in no doubt that he meant business and was going to find out the truth of her situation by whatever means necessary.

Gulping down an uneasy breath, she answered, ‘No.’ How could she tell him that she’d only ever wanted one man for her husband and that was him? ‘There’s no one in my life but Sami and my mother.’

‘I can’t pretend that I’m unhappy about that.’ His long-lashed black eyes focused on her intently. ‘It could potentially complicate things if you were in a relationship.’

Knowing what he meant, she tightened her pale hands on the arms of the wheelchair. ‘As it no doubt will when you marry this woman you’re engaged to,’ she said pointedly, unconsciously lifting her chin. ‘If Sami goes to stay with you in the future I have to confess I’ll be uncomfortable with the idea when I don’t even know her. What’s she like?’

‘Her name is Farrida. She is from an important Zachariah family and her beauty and her intellect are much admired. We have known each other since we were children.’

The aloof manner in which he described his bride-to-be didn’t tell Darcy very much about her at all—certainly not about the important things she wanted to know, such as her character and her values.

‘Is she a warm and friendly person?’ she pressed. ‘I suppose what I’m asking is, does she like children?’

His giving his intended a name, as well as listing attributes she definitely couldn’t match, made the woman even more threatening to Darcy.

‘And do...?’ She hardly dared ask the next question. ‘Do you love her?’

The glance Zafir returned to her was undeniably weary, as if the subject both bored and irritated him. ‘As to whether she likes children or not—she knows that she’s expected to produce heirs. This is not a love match. Arranged marriages are common practice amongst those with political power and wealth in my country. My family and hers typify that. Our destiny has always been to marry someone from a similar background.’

‘So what you’re saying is that you don’t have a choice about who you marry?’

The smile he quirked was wry. ‘My mother, the Dowager Queen, would not insist if the woman did not please me.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

Unfolding his arms, he sighed, and his sigh was tinged with impatience. ‘Surely you, of all women, must know what I mean? Have you so quickly forgotten how it was between us?’

The startling reminder was like a scythe slashing through her innards, because it was clear he was setting his sights on someone far above her background. Whether he would marry the well-connected beauty he spoke of or not, the woman surely had to be a much better bet than she had ever been.

She coughed to ease the tension that was cramping her throat. ‘Do you think you could get me some water? The kitchen’s just through that door.’

With a concerned expression, her companion briefly exited the room. He reappeared a few moments later with her drink. Once again the beguiling cologne he wore stirred the air, conjuring up potent imagery of a very different land whose history stretched back to the dawn of time.

‘Do you need your medication?’ he asked gruffly. ‘I have it here.’

He gave her the painkillers, along with the glass of water.

‘Thanks.’ Pressing the foil packet with trembling fingers, Darcy emptied a couple of capsules into her hand. Then she hurriedly swallowed them down with the drink, all the while aware that her one-time lover watched her avariciously, almost like a hawk about to bear down on his prey.

‘That’s better,’ she remarked, for no other reason than that it was something to break the silence that had fallen.

‘Even though we are no longer lovers,’ Zafir suddenly declared, ‘if I choose not to marry Farrida, and it can be proved that Sami is indeed my son, there is a way you can repay me for not telling me sooner that you were carrying my child when you left the bank.’

Darcy bristled. ‘When I was forced to leave the bank, do you mean?’

Unperturbed, the steady black eyes held her gaze. ‘That is a conversation for later...not now. Concerning your repayment—I have a solution. I want you to replace Farrida by agreeing to become my wife.’

‘What? You can’t be serious.’

Relieving her of the glass of water, he put it down on a nearby bookshelf. When he turned back, a muscle flinched tellingly at the side of a breathtakingly carved cheekbone.

‘One convenient bride is much the same as another. Except that you have one important thing in your favour, Darcy. It seems that you have already given me the requisite heir.’

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