Desert Hearts: Sheikh Without a Heart / Heart of the Desert / The Sheikh's Destiny

“I asked you a simple question. Surely you can give me a simple answer. Where are we—?”

The light turned green. He made a turn. They were heading away from the Strip, away from the hotels.

A lump of fear lodged in her throat.

The only thing that could possibly draw a visitor to this part of town was the airport.

“Either you tell me where you’re going or—”

“We’re going to my plane.”

Full-blown panic flooded through her.

“I am not getting on a plane!”

“Yes,” he said in a quiet voice that resonated with command, “you are.”

“No!”

“We’re flying to New York.”

“You’re flying to New York! I’m going home.”

“Home?” His tone changed, became hard. “Really? Is that why you came out the door with a suitcase?” There was a gate ahead; he slowed the car as they approached it. “I told you not to take me for a fool, Rachel. When you came down those steps your only thought was to run. I’d bet you didn’t even have a destination. Well, now you do.”

“Get this through your head, Your Highness. There’s not a way in hell I’m flying to New York or anyplace else with you. If you think you can—you can pick up where you left off in my apartment—”

He looked at her, his eyes cold. Then he swung the wheel to the right and pulled onto the shoulder of the road.

“I assure you, Ms. Donnelly, I’m not the least bit interested in you sexually.”

“If that’s your idea of an apology—”

“It’s a statement of fact. What happened earlier was a mistake.”

“You’re damned right it was. And if you think it could ever happen again—”

“I’m taking you to New York so we can move to the end of this little drama as quickly as possible.”

“We can do that right here.”

“No, we cannot. I have a home in Manhattan. Commitments to keep.”

“I have commitments, too.”

He laughed. She felt her face heat.

“I’m sure my life doesn’t seem anywhere near as important as yours,” she said coldly, “but it is to my baby and me.”

“I’ll have the DNA of the child tested.”

His tone was flat. Matter-of-fact, as if the issue had been decided.

That frightened her more than anything else. His certainty that there would be a test. That whatever he demanded would happen.

She knew she had to sound decisive, even in the face of his determination.

“The name of the person who fathered my child is my affair.”

“Not if that person was my brother.”

His answer was so logical that for a couple of seconds her mind went blank. What could she say to that?

“Why, Rachel,” he said softly, “don’t tell me you’ve run out of arguments.”

“Here’s the bottom line, Your Highness. There won’t be a test. I won’t grant permission. And there’s not a thing you can do about it.”

“You’re correct,” he said quietly. “I can’t force you.”

Rachel wanted to cheer. Instead, she folded her arms and waited. She knew it couldn’t be this easy.

“You may, indeed, refuse my request. You have that right.” He smiled. It was a terrible smile; it chilled her to the bone. “But I, too, have rights. Don’t bother telling me I don’t. I’ve already spoken with my attorney.”

“You’ve had a busy morning,” she said, trying to sound glib despite the race of her heart.

“I have reasonable grounds to think Rami is the child’s father.”

“So you say.”

“So my lawyer will say. If you refuse to have him tested, I’ll put this in the hands of the judicial system.” He paused. “It is, my attorney says, a very slow-moving system. Who knows how long Ethan will be in foster care?”

Rachel blanched. “No! You can’t—”

“Certainly I can,” he said calmly. “I have one of the best legal firms in the United States on retainer. Six full partners. Endless associates from the nation’s top law schools. Paralegals. Clerks. Offices on both coasts. And who will represent you? A fresh-out-of-law-school kid from Legal Aid? A lawyer with a closet for an office?” Another cool smile touched his lips. “The contest should prove interesting.”

It was a direct hit.

Karim knew it; the proof was in the sudden tremor of Rachel Donnelly’s mouth, the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes.

He wanted to feel triumphant.

But he didn’t.

She was an easy opponent and he’d never been a man who enjoyed easy victories. The power was all his; she had nothing but possession of Rami’s son—because, without question, this was Rami’s son.

Why wouldn’t she admit it?

She had everything to gain. She had to know he’d pay whatever price she set for the child.