THERE WAS UPROAR at the laundry when Millie got back. Everyone wanted to know why she’d been delayed. Miss Francine hovered anxiously while the younger women clustered around Millie with endless questions, outrageous suggestions, and raucous laughter, as well as enough racy jokes to fill the playbill at a comedy show for a week.
Before she said anything, Millie brushed the hair out of her eyes and shed her oilskins. Hanging them up on the peg by the door, she grimaced. ‘I’m drenched.’
‘With passion?’ Lucy suggested, nudging her closest companion.
For the sake of good humour, Millie adopted a mock aloof air. ‘I hardly think the Sheikh invited me back tonight so he can seduce me.’
‘He invited you back!’ Lucy shrieked with a meaningful look at their colleagues.
‘Out of politeness,’ Millie insisted, catching Miss Francine’s attention to reassure her with a look that Millie was okay with this comedy sketch. ‘Something about making up the numbers,’ she said vaguely.
‘At the ruler of Khalifa’s party?’ Lucy exclaimed with obvious disbelief. ‘You don’t expect us to believe he left something like that to chance, do you?’ she demanded with an eye roll.
‘I’m just not seduction material,’ Millie insisted, turning serious. At least that much was true. Her mother’s looks might have been ravished by pain and abuse, but Roxy Dillinger had always been beautiful, while Millie made the best of what she’d got, which wasn’t much. But what she lacked in kerb appeal, she tried to make up for with zest for life.
A barrage of questions about her time on the Sapphire hit her from every side. What was the Sheikh like? What was it like on a billionaire sheikh’s superyacht? Editing heavily, Millie gave as full an account as she could.
‘Why you Millie?’ Lucy demanded in a teasing tone. ‘What have you got that the rest of us lack?’
‘The rest of you have got too much work to do, to be gossiping like this,’ Miss Francine insisted above a chorus of groans. ‘We’ll have our own party when the work’s completed,’ she promised to a second chorus, this time of cheers.
‘I’d rather be Millie,’ Lucy called out cheerfully as she got back to her work.
Everyone took the hint and got their heads down, though Millie still had to field a whole host of questions, as well as the teasing remarks of her co-workers, but it had the good effect of making time fly. Good for everyone, Millie concluded, but herself, as, before she knew it, work ended and she had to get ready for the party. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so brave.
Don’t be such a wuss, she told herself impatiently as she ran up the stairs to her cosy bedsit. She had no excuse not to know how fast things could change from hope to tragedy. She had to seize the moment and make the most of it.
Relax. Chill, Millie mused, eyes tightly shut as she stood beneath the shower. If she didn’t take this chance to find out the truth about that night, she’d spend the rest of her life wishing she had.
What to wear to a billionaire’s party when you wanted to blend into the crowd? That was the burning question. Millie should have asked about the dress code, she realised now. Sheikh Khalid had mentioned something about a casual evening. Good. Casual she could do. An apprentice engineer had more overalls in her closet than frocks, but she did have one nice dress.
It was red, which was unfortunate. Would it make her stand out too much? She didn’t want to look as if she’d tried too hard. She’d bought it in the sales, thinking it perfect for the next Christmas party. At least it was an unfussy style, just a simple column of bright red silk. Having made her decision, she hung the dress on the back of the door.
Hair up or down? She’d tie it back, Millie decided. Tossing her long, honey-gold hair for effect wasn’t her style. Having trialled a few different looks, she settled on her customary messy up-do. She’d got the knack of arranging that now, but she swopped out the infamous pencil for a simple mock tortoiseshell clip.
Shoes?
Wearing high heels on a ship grated, somehow. She compromised with a strappy flat.
Underwear. She rootled through her drawer. Sensible big knickers, obviously...
So why was she holding a flimsy thong?
Who was going to see what she wore? No one. So she settled for the thong. It wouldn’t show any lines beneath the dress.
As she got ready she kept on glancing out of the window to where the Sapphire was berthed and blazing with light. When she’d finished she leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, trying to blot out that other party and replace it with the new. If she didn’t, she’d never have the courage to step back on board the Sapphire.
Music from the superyacht wafted over the marina and into Millie’s bedroom. It was tasteful, tuneful music. She’d be all right. She had to be. No one could pick up the pieces. She had to do that for herself, and owed it to her mother to move forward, which was exactly what she intended to do.
Checking her appearance in the mirror one last time, she declared, ‘No problem. I’m ready to enter the lion’s den.’
* * *
Khalid frowned as he paced the deck. The band was playing, and his stewards were putting the final touches to place settings as his guests began to arrive, but there was no sign of Millie. He wanted to see her. They had a lot to discuss.
Discuss?
All right, he snarled at his moral compass director, but she’d be here. She wouldn’t be able to resist what might be her last chance to question him, and, if the temptation to interrogate him wasn’t enough, he had to trust that the same primal energy drove both of them, and that was an irresistible force.
An eclectic mix of specialists from the arts, sciences, and the charities he supported, as well as tech kings and a few fellow royals, had gathered on the deck below his quarters. It was an interesting crowd. He was keen for her to see the changes his rule had brought about. It had always been important for him to draw a clean line between the way his brother Saif had ruled, and his own very different approach. Had he mentioned the dress code for her evening would be casual? He couldn’t believe he was worrying about something so trivial, but he wanted Millie to fit in and relax, and if she arrived in a ball gown—She wouldn’t arrive in a ball gown. She had more sense. There was more risk she’d arrive straight from work in a boiler suit smeared with oil.
‘Your Majesty seems particularly distracted tonight—’
‘Tadj!’ He whirled around to greet his friend. ‘Forgive me. I didn’t see you and your companion arrive. Good evening, Ms...?’
‘Lucy Gillingham, Your Majesty. I work at Miss Francine’s with Millie.’
‘No need to curtsey,’ he said, raising Lucy to her feet with a smile. ‘Welcome on board the Sapphire.’
‘It must be a very beautiful woman to distract you to this extent,’ Tadj teased him discreetly. ‘May I ask who she is?’
‘No. You may not,’ he told Tadj. ‘Your reputation goes before you, my friend.’ He had no intention of sharing his interest in Millie with a man known as the Wolf of the Desert for a very good reason.
‘The party’s already a success,’ Tadj observed, glancing down to where the good-natured throng was mingling easily.
‘Seems so,’ Khalid agreed, scanning the crowd for Millie. ‘Excuse me—I can see some more guests arriving—’
‘A very beautiful woman,’ Tadj called after him with amusement, no doubt having spotted where Khalid was heading.
Millie was trying to find her way through the crowd jostling around his stewards as they offered his guests a welcoming flute of champagne. She looked sensational in a slender column of bright red silk. The crowd parted for him, so he quickly reached her side. ‘You decided to come?’ he remarked.
Running her eyes over him from top to toe, she looked up and smiled. ‘It appears so, Your Majesty.’
‘Have you been practising?’ he asked with amusement as she attempted to bob a curtsey.
‘Only as much as you’ve been working on your boilers today,’ she countered, directing this into his eyes as she straightened up. ‘Actually, I’d love to see the engine room.’
‘Another time,’ he said.
‘You’re inviting me back?’ she challenged with amusement. ‘I would have thought you’d seen enough of me by now.’
‘By the end of the evening, I probably will have done,’ he replied in the closest to humour he intended to come. In truth, he couldn’t wait to get away from her. She was affecting him like no aphrodisiac known to man.
‘I imagined you’d be leaving soon?’ she said, clearly unaware of his physical discomfort.
A flowing robe would have been more accommodating than designer jeans, he acknowledged, masking his discomfort. ‘And so I shall. My work is done,’ he confirmed, sounding harsher than he’d intended, but the need to rearrange himself was becoming more pressing by the moment.
* * *
I will not allow myself to be distracted by a pair of knowing black eyes, Millie determined. And if Khalid thought he could just walk away from her, he was wrong. ‘I find older vessels fascinating,’ she said, determined to keep him in front of her. ‘So much experience under their belt.’
He actually groaned as if he were in pain. ‘I hope you’re not referring to me?’
His voice sounded strangled, but if that was an attempt at humour, it saved him. He might actually be human. ‘I hardly think so, Your Majesty.’
People were watching them with interest, she noticed. Gossip would spread quickly on the marina. The ruler of Khalifa and a local laundress, chatting together like old friends. She didn’t care, but did he? And if he did care, he might bring this to an end at any moment, before they had chance to arrange that private talk. ‘You invited me here to talk,’ she said. ‘When can we do that?’
‘I need time with my guests. At least an hour.’
‘Of course,’ Millie agreed promptly. ‘And my apologies if I’m keeping you.’
‘I choose to talk to you.’
And when you no longer choose to do so, you’ll move on, she thought. Determined to pin him down, she confirmed, ‘An hour. Where?’
‘I’ll send someone to find you.’
‘Do you delegate everything to someone else?’
The words just popped out of her mouth, and there was a moment when she thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he said, ‘Not all things, Ms Dillinger.’
And now she really, really wished she hadn’t asked the question, as the expression in the Sheikh’s eyes took hold of every nerve-ending in her body and rattled it until it squeaked.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ she said on a dry throat. ‘I’m happy people-watching, just so long as we have that promised talk.’
‘I won’t forget,’ he said in a way that left her in no doubt that he meant it.
‘Okay.’ She shrugged and smiled politely as he left.
* * *
That shrug. That smile.
Millie’s wildflower scent taunted his senses as he walked away.
It stayed with him—she stayed with him as he met and chatted to his guests. To a casual observer, the ruler of Khalifa had been exchanging small talk with a beautiful local woman who had happened to catch his attention. There was nothing unusual about that. On the surface, maybe, but beneath the apparent calm there was a lot more going on, like a fault line in the ocean with a volcano simmering underneath.
* * *
She needed a lot more time to relax on the Sapphire. Being back here was upsetting, and disturbing, Millie thought as Sheikh Khalid walked away. Needing something to take her mind off the past, she began to circulate and introduce herself around. She might have worried that she was walking in her mother’s footsteps, if the guests at this party hadn’t been so very different from those of eight years ago. Millie gave no explanations and none were needed, other than the fact that she lived locally, as the Sheikh was a generous host and had invited people from all walks of life. His guests were so open and pleasant that for a while she lost herself in conversation, but revisiting the place where she’d last seen her mother alive had affected her more than she’d thought.
She kept hearing her mother’s last words ringing in her head. ‘Get her out of here! You’re nothing but a little killjoy. You always spoil my fun!’
Her mother had been a victim and Millie was anything but, she reasoned, and she had to be strong for both of them. But that wasn’t easy when her feelings were in turmoil, and the past kept rolling over her like a storm that threatened to engulf her in grief and guilt. The Sheikh had the knack of putting everyone at ease, she noticed. She also couldn’t help noticing that he looked amazing. He had no need of royal robes to point up his blistering masculinity. Dressed casually in jeans and a shirt, he was every fantasy hero made real. Tall, tanned, hard-muscled and obviously super-fit, he radiated undeniably compelling sex appeal.
The biggest shock of all came when she bumped into her friend Lucy. It was a double shock to identify Lucy’s stunningly good-looking companion.
‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’ Lucy exclaimed as they hugged.
‘You’re on a date with the Emir?’ Millie whispered back.
‘Don’t sound so alarmed. We met dockside. He’s a man, I’m a woman. What’s wrong with that?’ Everything and nothing, Millie thought as Lucy added, ‘How are you and the Sheikh getting on?’
‘There is no me and the Sheikh. I already told you, I’m here to make up the numbers and nothing more.’
As if sensing their interest in him, Khalid, who was some distance away, turned to look at Millie and frowned. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was surprised to see her at the party. Was she supposed to go home until the hour was up and then come back? He’d invited her, and she’d rather be here, dicing with danger, than fretting about all the questions she wanted to ask him, back at home.
‘He shouldn’t be allowed to wear robes—’
‘Sorry?’ She glanced at Lucy, who had been having a one-sided conversation, Millie realised now.
‘The robes?’ Lucy pressed. ‘They hide his body. Sheikh Khalid owes it to the world to only ever wear snug-fitting clothes, like the ones he’s wearing now.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Millie said vaguely.
‘You’re not listening, are you?’ Lucy teased. ‘What’s a nice girl doing staring at the Sheikh?’
‘I’m not staring at the Sheikh,’ Millie defended. ‘It’s what’s inside the package,’ she murmured distractedly.
‘Depends on the package,’ Lucy put in. ‘Personally, I can’t wait to unwrap Tadj.’
They said laughing goodbyes, and as Lucy walked off Millie reassured herself that they could both look after themselves, even in the company of these devastating-looking men.
‘Are you ready to talk now?’
She almost jumped out of her skin, hearing Khalid’s voice so close behind her.
She could handle this.
‘Has an hour passed already?’ she asked lamely as his heat invaded every inch of her body.
‘I thought you would have been eating by now.’
‘But...’ She looked at the dining table and frowned. His guests were only just sitting down. ‘The canapés did look delicious,’ she admitted, thinking he must mean the trays of bite-sized appetisers the stewards had been handing round, ‘but I didn’t want to spoil my dinner.’
‘Quite right,’ he said, but now it was the Sheikh’s turn to frown.
What was going on? He’d invited her to supper.
Leading the way through his guests, he greeted everyone who wanted to speak to him. He even introduced Millie as an old friend. An old friend? she thought as they mounted the companionway to a higher deck.
‘It’s a beautiful night,’ he remarked as he paused at the top.
It was. The rain had cleared, and it was crisp and clear with stars glittering overhead. A magical night, Millie thought.
And on just such a night, her mother had drowned in this same marina.
‘I want to show you something,’ he said, distracting her before that thought had a chance to take hold. A dart of apprehension still struck her hard. Maybe it was his tone of voice. Following him to the stern, she followed his stare and frowned. ‘A lifeboat?’ she queried.
‘This is the last place I saw your mother alive.’
Millie’s fingers tightened on the cold, steel rail. She must compose herself, and must do so fast, or lose any hope she had of getting to the bottom of this.
‘Are you okay?’ the Sheikh asked.
‘Yes,’ she managed in a clipped tone. She didn’t trust herself to say anything more. ‘What was my mother doing here in a lifeboat?’
‘Sleeping,’ he said.
Sleeping it off, Millie thought, but she was glad he hadn’t said that. It hurt to hear her mother criticised, even now. Her mother deserved respect, though she’d had none for herself.
‘You let her sleep?’ she said, trying to get a picture of what had happened that night.
‘But with a guard watching over her,’ he said.
‘What happened next? What went wrong?’ she pressed. ‘You said she slipped away. Didn’t anyone miss her? What about your brother? Wasn’t he expecting my mother to sing for his guests?’
‘My brother—’
‘Your brother what?’ she cut in impatiently, unable to hold back as her emotions surged out of control.
‘I can’t answer for my brother’s whereabouts at each precise moment during that night.’
‘You must have some idea,’ she insisted. ‘And if you can’t tell me, I don’t know why I’m here—’
The shock when he seized hold of her arm, as she was about to walk off, flashed through her like a lightning bolt. ‘Let go of me!’ Wrenching her arm out of his grip almost threw her off balance, and she had to hold onto the rail with both hands to steady herself. It felt cold and as unyielding as he was. How he had to be, she thought. He’d had to handle the authorities at the time, and give his lawyers a story they could run with. He was hardly going to tell her another story now.
But still she wondered... Did my mother touch this rail? Did she cling to it and try to save her life?
‘Did she fall here?’ she asked at last. She turned to face him, her grim expression demanding the truth.
‘Your mother had had too much to drink. I was surprised she was even capable of moving.’
‘Something must have prompted her to climb out of the lifeboat.’ Millie shook her head. ‘It had to be something so urgent she found the strength.’ She glanced over the rail, and her head swam as her imagination supplied the detail: the scream, the splash, the struggle, and finally silence.
‘No.’
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she barely heard the single word, and only slowly turned to face the Sheikh. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me,’ she said.
‘This has been a shock for you.’
‘That’s no answer,’ she said tensely.
Happy sounds from the party rose all around them, mocking her state of mind. This was bizarre, tense and horrible. Learning details about that night, while she was battling feelings she shouldn’t even have for this man, left her swamped in sadness and tortured by guilt. She couldn’t stop thinking that if only she’d been older and more authoritative at the time of her mother’s death, maybe she could have saved her.
‘My brother could always find women to entertain him,’ Sheikh Khalid was saying. ‘It’s not surprising that he lost interest in your mother’s whereabouts.’
‘As you did,’ she flared.
‘I put guards on watch,’ he reminded her.
‘They couldn’t have been much good,’ she observed acidly.
‘Your mother asked to use the facilities, and of course they let her go.’
‘In a drunken state on board a yacht without following her?’ Millie exclaimed. ‘That sounds like gross dereliction of duty to me.’
‘You weren’t there,’ the Sheikh interrupted. ‘Therefore, you’re in no position to pass judgement on my staff. I’m satisfied they did all they could.’
‘How can you say that?’ Millie demanded hotly. ‘I’ve been followed every step of the way since I boarded the Sapphire, yet you’re asking me to believe my mother could wander at will.’
‘As I’ve tried to explain, times were different, and there were no witnesses.’
‘But someone must have seen something,’ she insisted.
Ignoring her interruption, the Sheikh continued. ‘I was clearing the grand salon at the time of your mother’s disappearance. Saif had tried to have me thrown off the Sapphire, but his guards had refused to do this. They supported me rather than my brother, though even with their help it still took time for all the guests to leave. As soon as I was free, I went to look for your mother. I wondered at first if she’d returned to my brother, but his attendants hadn’t seen her. I can only conclude she slipped away with the rest of the guests leaving the ship.’
‘So, you’re saying your brother had nothing to do with my mother’s death.’
‘That’s what I told the authorities.’
That’s no answer, she thought. ‘I can see it would be convenient for you to hear nothing and see nothing.’
‘Have you finished?’ he asked coldly.
‘Why? Are you going to have me drummed off the ship?’
‘No part of this tragedy could ever be described as convenient,’ the Sheikh assured her.
‘For your brother, then,’ Millie said.
‘My brother’s dead.’
‘And does that absolve him from blame? If you’re saying he deserves respect, simply because he’s no longer with us, then so does my mother. And you might as well know, I intend to clear her name—’
‘That’s as it should be,’ he said.
‘What’s the point in talking further?’ Millie asked. ‘You’re not going to tell me anything.’
‘You’re leaving?’
She’d thought about it. ‘No,’ she said, ‘not unless you have me thrown off. Eight years ago my mother had no one to protect her, but now she does, and I’m not a biddable teenager who’ll go home when she’s told.’
‘You have always defended her,’ he said with the closest to admiration he’d come yet.
‘I trusted you,’ she said quietly. Lose her temper lose the battle, Miss Francine had always said, and the Sapphire provided valuable business for the laundry. Millie must manage her quest for justice and look at the bigger picture.
They stared at each other unblinking for a few moments, which was as troubling as it was a sign of Millie’s intent. Her determination to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding her mother’s death had crossed her path with that of a man whose potent persona was wreaking havoc on her control. There was no such thing as a meaningless glance where the Sheikh was concerned. He could convey more in a look than any book of words, and his dark eyes suggested an agreement of a very different kind, one that had no connection with the past, and everything to do with the here and now.