The Sheikh's Second Chance Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 5) (8 page)

He owned this place, Lana said to herself for what seemed like the tenth time since she'd been escorted through the dark glass revolving doors, through the marble-floored entrance, down the stairs and into the depths of the building. She had seen the wealth on display at Rafiq's palace, but what she had seen in this exclusive place was evidence of Malik's own, personal affluence.
 

It seemed that all of the Al Kharif brothers had their own personal fortunes. That didn't surprise her at all. They were one of the most important families in the kingdom. It was natural that they would possess such wealth. But, as before, during her time in America, Lana had long since ceased to be impressed by wealth. She'd seen what it could do to people; experienced the harshness that wealth brought out in people. Especially young men.
 

Lana thrust that memory away. Perhaps Malik was different. This was an entirely different kind of world she had entered. She knew that.

Across from her, Malik leaned on the table and gazed at Lana. There were a few other guests in the room, although it was late afternoon, too early for the more serious members to have arrived.

"What do you think?" Malik asked.

Lana gazed around and shrugged. "It's okay."

Malik seemed surprised. "Okay? Just okay?"

Lana nodded. "I've seen places like this before."

Malik seemed momentarily thunderstruck. He sipped his glass of orange juice, placed the glass down on the table and peered across at Lana. "You are just joking with me, right?"

Lana shook her head. "Why would I?"

Malik cleared his throat. "Do you know how much I spent on this place?"

Lana gazed nonchalantly around the room. "I'm sure it didn't come cheap."

"Cheap!" Malik exclaimed. "There's nothing cheap about this place. It's the most exclusive club in Qazhar. Membership here is highly coveted."

"I'm sure it is," Lana said trying to control the urge to dismiss his comment. She could see he was proud of what he owned, what he had created. But, it seemed so out of place with what she had seen during her short time in Qazhar. Tradition seemed to lie at the heart of Qazhar life, and this club seemed to belong in a different place.

"What do your brothers think of this place?" Lana asked.

Malik seemed taken aback by the question. He squinted at Lana as if he couldn't quite believe that she would ask such a thing. "They've both been here."

Lana leaned forward and peered at Malik. "But, do they like it?"

Malik eased back in his chair and thrust an arm behind the back of the seat. Why was he feeling so defensive about such a simple question, Lana asked herself. Had she touched a raw nerve?

"Of course, they like it. Why wouldn't they?"

Lana narrowed her eyes. "It's just so different from how the rest of your family live, I guess."

Malik raised his chin and nodded. "Not traditional enough. Is that what you're suggesting?"

"Maybe," Lana said flatly.

"Times have changed in Qazhar."

"But, I get the impression not everyone feels the need for change."

"Traditions have their place," Malik said defensively. Was he trying to back out of the conversation?

"But, they're not something you'd find in a place like this," Lana said.

"We live in different times," Malik replied.

"I'm sure you've had some good times in this place," Lana said, immediately regretting the inadvertent edge to her comment. She glanced across the table and saw that he had been affected by the tone of the comment. Was he hurt? Was he offended?

Malik leaned forward. "I don't know what you're suggesting, Lana," Malik said.

"I'm not suggesting anything, Malik," she replied.

Malik dipped his head closer toward her. She could see the indignation in his gaze. There was a barely contained fire in those eyes. She could see a flame of powerful intent there, and she felt a vague flutter of unease in her middle. Why was it that he was able to affect her like this?
 

Those eyes held so much promise. Lana wrenched her gaze away from Malik. She cleared her throat, trying to find the words to mask what she had really been implying. That this was Malik's private domain; that it was the place he brought his women to; the center of his world, away from the traditions of palace life, away from the constraints of family expectation. She tried not to think too much of what Malik might have done in this place; of the many women who might have been grateful for the chance to be brought into his world, possessed and seduced.

Lana frowned and glanced at Malik. She saw that he had noticed the change in her demeanor. "What you think of my life is unimportant," he stated firmly. She knew she had stepped over a line, had invaded a private space.

"You know nothing of how I have lived," he continued.

"We barely know one another," Lana admitted.

Malik's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't go so far as to say we don't know each other. We've had our moments."
 

He reached out a hand across the table, but Lana moved her own hand closer to herself, curling her fingers around her glass of sparkling water. Malik's gaze flickered down to the table, taking note of her defiant gesture.

"Perhaps, you've had your moments, Malik," Lana said. She glanced around the room. "I'm sure you've had more than your fair share here."

Lana saw Malik frown. He sighed and withdrew his hand. "You seem to have already formed an opinion of me."

"I judge no-one," Lana said, even although she knew that wasn't quite true. She'd already assessed Malik and found enough about him to cause her to be cautious.

"On the contrary. I think you've already passed judgment on me," Malik replied. There was hurt in his voice. She could hear it, and she could see it in the twitch of muscle at the corner of his jaw.

Lana shook her head. "You forget, I'm only a visitor here. I'm just passing through. I'll be gone in a few days. I didn't think it would really matter what I think of you."

Malik leaned his head to one side. "You seemed to think well enough of me last night, on the terrace."

Lana felt her face flush with heat. The memories came flooding back, and she struggled to get control of them. In the same way, she'd struggled to forget Malik's touch when she had fought to go to sleep the previous night. That had been a long night, filled with thoughts of Malik, torturing memories of his touch, his tender attentions.
 

Lana knew part of the reason she was being so snarky was probably tiredness. But, there was also the possibility that she wasn't sure why Malik had brought her to this place. What was his plan? Because a man like Malik didn't do anything without a plan. Especially when it came to the opposite sex. He'd already taken her on a tour of the club, showing her every part of the establishment, every one of the opulently designed rooms. The pride on his features had been obvious.

So, what was next on his agenda?

"I haven't shown you every room in this place," Malik announced suddenly.

"Really?" Lana replied.

"There is one place I haven't shown you. And, I've arranged for us to share a special meal there."

Lana rolled her eyes and then fixed Malik with a firm look. "What if I'm not hungry?"

Malik's brows furrowed. "And here I was thinking we were just trying to be polite with one another," he said with a sarcastic edge.

Lana smiled in spite of herself. He was right. There was an implicit agreement between them. They had both been forced into this proximity, and there was no sense in making something unpleasant out of it. After all, they did have to think of the happiness of Mia and Rafiq. There was no place for bitterness or conflict. Not when there was a wedding coming up.

"Just what is this special place, as you call it?" Lana asked.

Malik stood, extending a hand toward Lana. "Let me show you."

Lana finished her drink and stood. Malik gestured in front of himself and Lana started to walk across the deep pile of the carpeted floor. They came to a lift and Malik twisted a key into the lock, opening the doors. Lana raised a brow at Malik. "Please. Enter," he instructed casually. She guessed it wasn't the first time he'd instructed a woman to enter this lift.

Lana stepped inside, and Malik followed. The doors closed and Lana noticed there were no buttons for choosing floors. She narrowed her eyes. "There is only one destination," Malik explained.

Lana felt the lift move. She leaned back against the rear wall, and Malik settled next to her. His powerful scent filled the small space. As before, she was taken aback by his sheer physical presence. Here, in the confines of the lift, he seemed to enclose her, forming a protective barrier around her. Lana curled her toes inside her suddenly tight-fitting shoes. She wondered what awaited her when the lift doors would eventually open. They were obviously going up. When they'd entered the club, she had glanced up at the exterior of the tall building with its modern glass designs. It had seemed strangely out of place in the city, almost too modern, as if it was a statement of something, a defiant declaration. No doubt Malik owned it, as he so obviously owned so many things.

They didn't speak, nor did they exchange glances. It was as if they were both aware of the awkwardness of being in such close proximity, the kind of closeness that seemed almost inappropriate given that they still hardly knew each other.

The lift slowed suddenly, and the doors opened. Lana stepped out and failed to contain the gasp that leapt to her throat.
 

The room in front of her was the perfect expression of a luxury, bachelor pad. It was all glass and metal surfaces, clean and sharp, ultra modern in every respect. On the far side of the room, tinted windows stretched the length of the room. Lana took a few steps toward the window. She heard the lift doors close behind her, and she knew she was alone in Malik's private apartment.

Lana walked to the windows and gazed out at the impressive view of the city, with the distant sea shimmering in the late afternoon light.

Malik halted at her side. "What do you think?"

Lana smiled. "It's beautiful." She turned to Malik. "I assume you own this place."

Malik nodded. "The entire building, actually."

Lana quirked a brow. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Malik's smile had certainty and just a touch of defiance about it.

Lana turned and gazed around the apartment. "Looks like a bachelor place, if you want my honest opinion," she offered.

"I wasn't really asking, but since you insist, I suppose you're right," he replied. Now it was his turn to be snarky, she thought. Maybe she deserved that. Perhaps it wasn't her place at all to judge how he lived.

A dinner had been laid out for them on a long table in the adjacent dining room. It also had stunning views across the city. Lana wondered just how much of this had been planned, and she had to conclude that all of it must have been arranged by Malik, well beforehand.
 

Was he simply trying to be polite, following his brother's advice, no doubt? Or was he trying to impress Lana? If he was trying to make an impression, why was he doing that?

The food was delicious, and the conversation between them settled into a combination of witty one-liners designed to keep things light between them and occasional attempts to dig a little deeper into one another's past.

Each one of those efforts ended in failure and Lana was glad that they had. It would be best if they didn't confess too much to one another. There was no sense in doing that.

After the meal was finished, they sat for a while and continued to chat. Lana learned that Malik was a skilful conversationalist. No doubt that particular skill had been honed through years of practice, and in this very place.
 

Malik seemed extraordinarily proud of his life and spoke about his achievements with visible satisfaction. Every time he tried to dig deeper into Lana's past, she rebuffed him, firmly, but politely. She saw his frustration after each of her refusals, but she was determined that they should only be friends.
 

Every once in a while, she glanced at a doorway at the far end of the room. She was sure that was where the bedroom lay. Best not to think of that, she told herself repeatedly. There was no way she was ever going to end up in that room. Not if she had any say in the matter.
 

And, to be fair to Malik, not once during their long conversation did he ever try to make the move on Lana that she had prepared herself for.

Was that a good thing? She wasn't sure she liked the frequent stabs of disappointment that came to her, completely unwanted, utterly unbidden. Why on earth was she feeling even the slightest tug of disappointment that Malik hadn't at least tried to make a move to kiss her the way he'd kissed her before? Was it that they were here, in his private space?

The hours wore on, and the sun started to sink toward the horizon. The sky was beginning to turn a beautiful shade of orange. Malik suddenly leapt up from the sofa and extended a hand down to Lana.

"Please, come with me," he ordered.

Lana felt her throat tighten. Where was he taking her? Was this how he did things with other women? Did he simply take them to his room without so much as a request? Well, it wasn't going to be that easy, Lana told herself, starting to prepare a barbed reply.

"I have a surprise for you," Malik announced.

Lana stood and let Malik lead her toward the lift. He opened the lift and guided Lana inside, following her in. The doors closed and Lana felt a surge as the lift moved up again. She gave Malik a puzzled look, but he said nothing.

The lift doors opened, and Lana felt a rush of fresh air. She looked out upon the roof of the building. Malik led her out, and the lift doors closed behind them.

A loud metallic whirring sound filled Lana's ears. She turned and froze on the spot.

A helicopter stood a few yards away, its rotor blades already spinning. Lana looked at Malik. He smiled at her and took her hand. "I hope you're not frightened of flying in helicopters," he said with a grin.