She turned her head and shot him a furious, frosty look. “Go away.”
He shrugged, smiled carelessly and leaned closer, his broad shoulders crowding her. “I can’t, Dr. Tornell. I need your help.”
She averted her head, apparently watching the guests in mute fascination.
They were a stellar bunch, he acknowledged, a dazzling mix of royalty, international aristocrats, celebrities and socialites—all dressed as if they had personal stylists, and most, he suspected, did.
Rou was perhaps the only one who looked as if she’d dressed herself. His gaze flickered over her sedate black gown. It seemed painfully familiar, and he wondered if it was the same black gown she’d worn to Lady Pippa’s wedding three years earlier.
“Isn’t this the same dress you wore three years ago?” he asked now.
She turned her head, cheeks suffused with color. “Yes. Why? You don’t like it?”
He’d scored a direct hit, he thought, observing the emotions flashing across her face. And in that moment, she looked almost pretty, her eyes dark, her cheeks deep pink, her lips trembling with outrage. “You could probably find a more flattering style and color,” he answered.
Her lips compressed and her gaze leveled on his. “Black is always in style.”
“No, not true, especially when black makes you appear sallow. You’d do better in pinks.”
“For your information, this is a designer gown of good fabric which I bought at Barney’s in New York—”
“Ten years ago, I imagine from the look of the sleeves.”
Her eyes widened, the blue irises almost black with fury. “Go away,” she said.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
The air caught in Rou’s throat as he turned more fully toward her, his shoulder grazing hers. “Both.”
He was so close to her she could see shots of bronze against the gold of his eyes and faint creases at the edges of his eyes. His body was big, sinewy, and his thigh brushed hers until she dragged her own legs farther away.
“I’ve already told you, I’d never help you,” she answered, aware that her pulse had quickened and her body felt warm and dangerously sensitive.
“That’s because you’re making my request personal, but it’s not personal. It’s so much bigger than that. This is about my country. My brother. My people. You hold an entire country hostage right now.”
He leaned closer, so that his head was just inches from hers and his arm stretched along the back of her chair, his fingers dangerously close to her skin. “All I want is the same opportunity you’ve given your other clients. Do the preliminary assessment properly. Do the paperwork, the background research. I will make my life available to you. I am at your disposal for the next however many weeks it takes to complete the process.”
She’d stiffened in protest when he moved even closer, breathing deeply to calm herself, but breathing deeply meant she inhaled his fragrance—the scent soft, spicy, seductive—and she wasn’t sure if it was his scent, or his warmth, but her nerves clamored to life and her senses swam.
She felt as though she were drowning at sea. And he was doing it to her. He was overwhelming her, threatening her very safety. She couldn’t allow it. She couldn’t. He made her feel as if her own survival was at stake, too.
And survival was not to be taken lightly.
She’d known he was dangerous from their first meeting at Pippa’s wedding, and yet she’d danced with him anyway and even gone and sat in the hotel bar for hours. She’d felt overwhelmed then, too, but it’d been almost wonderful to feel so aware of someone. Now she knew it wasn’t wonderful, and Zayed Fehr wasn’t wonderful. He’d use whatever he had to get what he wanted. It was his way. And she despised him for it.
“Go away,” Rou choked, stumbling to her feet. “Please. Please, Sheikh Fehr. Just go away and leave me alone.” She was trembling from head to foot, knew she’d lost all reason, knew she’d lost all control.
This was what she’d wanted to avoid. This was why she’d left Vancouver. Zayed Fehr threatened her. He shattered her control. He made her feel like a panicked girl instead of the scientist she was, and she couldn’t allow it. She wasn’t that strong. Smart, yes; successful, yes; strong? No. No. Only on paper. Only on the surface.
Her gaze darted around the ballroom as she planned her escape. If she skirted the dance floor, cut through the tables in the corner, moved behind the ice sculpture, she’d reach the doors on the side that led to the entry hall with the cloakroom.
Zayed placed a restraining hand over hers, preventing her from leaving. “Calm yourself, Dr. Tornell….”
“I can’t! You won’t let me. You won’t leave me alone.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you, Dr. Tornell. I need you. I need …”
Rou didn’t hear the rest. She was suddenly enveloped in a giant hug. “Rou, you naughty thing, where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you!” Georgina’s breathless voice penetrated Rou’s panic-fogged brain.
Gratefully she hugged Georgina back. Georgina. The wedding. Vienna. Everything was fine. Everything would be fine.
“You look beautiful,” Rou whispered unsteadily, giving Georgina a hard squeeze. “I’ve never seen a happier bride.”
“All thanks to you,” Georgina whispered. “You said there were no princes, but you found one for me!”
Georgina stepped back, and Ralf leaned down and dropped a kiss on Rou’s cheek. “I will always be in your debt, Dr. Tornell.”
And then Ralf and Georgina were turning their attention to Zayed, heartily welcoming him, and thanking him for coming.
“It is my pleasure,” Zayed answered smoothly, “and I offer you my family’s warmest congratulations on your marriage.”
“Thank you,” Ralf replied. “But tell us, have you news of Sharif? We’ve only just heard. It was on the television earlier.”
“Was it?” Zayed answered. “I didn’t think they were going to go public for another few days.”
Ralf and Georgina exchanged swift glances. “Is it true that there’s no sign of the plane? That it just totally disappeared from the radar?” Ralf persisted.
Zayed nodded.
“And Jesslyn?” Georgina asked. “Is she … Was she …?”
“She wasn’t with him, no. Nor the children, thank God.” Zayed’s expression shifted, hardened. “Although they were all supposed to be together.”
“I can’t believe it,” Ralf said, more to himself than the others. “Sharif is so…. so … Sharif.”
Zayed inclined his head, and Ralf quickly recovered and reached out to clasp Zayed’s shoulder. “We are praying for him, and all of you. We must not lose hope. And if there is anything we can do, any way we can aid the search, or help the queen, you only need to say the word.”
The wedding couple moved on.
Rou was silent for a moment after Georgina and Ralf walked away, but then she turned to Zayed, her expression fierce. “What’s happened to Sharif?”
“I’ve told you—”
“You haven’t.”
“He’s missing. His plane disappeared ten days ago. But I told you—”
“No, you didn’t tell me.” Her voice cracked. “You definitely didn’t tell me. You said throne, Sarq, kingdom. You didn’t