‘No, you don’t,’ he said. ‘You’re bewildered by the power of your emotions, and by the fact that you can’t change anything about that night. You hate yourself, and there’s no reason why you should.’
Burying her face in her hands, she accepted that he was right. She would never forget the morning after the party. She hadn’t heard the news and had taken the bus to the marina to search for her mother. Determined to board the Sheikh’s yacht, she had been all fired up. The bus had stopped short of the dock, and the driver had apologised, saying he couldn’t take his passengers any further as there were ambulances and police tape in his way.
She’d known then. She’d felt the disaster like a cold, numbing mist that crept up from her feet until it took over her entire body. Miss Francine had been waiting outside the laundry. Ushering Millie inside, she had plied her with a cup of hot, sweet tea, before confirming the awful truth.
She must have been quiet, thinking about this for quite some time, Millie realised as she slowly became aware of the Sheikh staring down with concern. How dared he care about her now? His concern came too late. But instead of resisting his dark, compelling stare, she met it and felt tremors of awareness run up and down her spine.
‘I’m sorry, Millie,’ he said softly.
‘Are you? Do you care?’
‘You won’t do anything silly when you leave here, will you?’ he said without answering her question.
‘Like my mother?’ she suggested.
‘Every story has more than one viewpoint,’ he observed.
Lifting her chin, she gave it to him with both barrels. ‘In this instance, a viewpoint that’s convenient for you, and another that’s not so convenient?’
His stare hardened again. ‘That’s your interpretation.’
Maybe, but Millie’s vision encompassed the Sheikh striding back on board the Sapphire just before the royal limousine taking her home had turned a corner and she hadn’t been able to see him any more. She’d craned her neck for one last glimpse of the man in whom she’d placed her trust, believing he’d put everything right.
‘I’m sorry to rush you,’ that same man said now as he glanced at his state-of-the-art wristwatch. ‘I have another appointment.’
Millie’s cheeks blazed red as she followed his glance to the door. ‘Of course.’ Time up. And what had she achieved? Precisely nothing.
‘I have a party to prepare for,’ he explained. ‘Why don’t you come back?’ he said, startling her with this suggestion. ‘I’ll make time to speak to you.’
A party on board the Sapphire? Just the word was enough to invoke terrible memories and make her stomach churn with dread. ‘I won’t take up any more of your time,’ she said tensely, turning for the door.
‘But we’re not finished,’ he said. ‘If you come tonight we can talk.’
Was he mad? Was she? Attend a party on board the Sapphire? Why was she even hesitating? Obviously, she had to say no.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘What time shall I arrive?’
He shrugged. ‘Any time after eight. It’s a relaxed evening all across the ship. You might enjoy it.’
She might not.
‘Until tonight,’ he said before she had chance to change her mind.
‘Until tonight,’ she echoed. Something made her turn at the door, hoping this was her last big mistake. Staring into the Sheikh’s knowing eyes was as dangerous as staring at the sun.
* * *
Dismissing his staff, he took the unusual step of personally escorting Millie off the ship. It was a reminder of why she was branded on his mind and always would be. The past had locked them together in a troubling set of memories, and in spite of his words to Millie, he was in no hurry to see her go. They took the stairs. Having the two of them confined in the cab of an elevator would be far too much too soon. However much he wanted to protect this new, older Millie, he wanted to seduce her more. They chatted politely about this and that as they walked through the Sapphire like two strangers who’d only just met. There wasn’t just one elephant in the room, but two. Sex and death were a potent combination, and all that was needed for him to see her again.
‘You’re happy living above the laundry?’ he asked.
‘Of course I am,’ she declared with a frowning, sideways look. And that was all she was going to say on that subject, he guessed, until they met later, when he was determined to find out more.
‘How do you know where I live?’ she asked.
He cursed himself for his carelessness. ‘I presumed,’ he fudged.
‘The same way you know I’m studying engineering?’ she queried. ‘Should I be flattered by your interest, or accept that a man like you must know everything about people you meet?
‘Whichever,’ she added with a shrug. ‘I’ll just mention that you seem to have more insight into my life than I had expected.’
* * *
Was the Sheikh having her watched? Millie wondered. If so, why? And how long had it been going on? Did he think she knew something about that night—some fact or gossip, or perhaps a careless remark made by one of his crew when they were on shore?
It was a relief to step out on deck. Being too close to a man like the Sheikh was unnerving. And exciting. It was as if she had been plugged into a power source. And that was dangerous, Millie concluded. No one with any sense played with fire.
‘I imagine your engineering skills must be very useful to Miss Francine,’ he remarked as they stood in that awkward moment before parting.
Awkward for her, at least, Millie concluded. Once again, he seemed frighteningly composed. While her mind had just clicked into gear. ‘You remember the name of the laundry and its owner after all these years?’
‘Your trolley?’ he said, tamping down on a smile. ‘Until later, Millie.’
‘Yes,’ she murmured distractedly, already having second thoughts. There was something not right about this.
‘Don’t forget you’re coming back.’
‘How could I forget?’ she called back, subduing the brief spike of panic. She might not have achieved her goal to learn more about that night yet, but the Sheikh had given her a second chance. She had no idea what to expect at his party, but she wasn’t a teenager now and could handle it.
What if the Sapphire slipped its moorings and sailed away?
She’d reach for her mobile phone and call the coastguard. She wasn’t an impressionable teen, but a soon-to-be successful woman who decided her own fate.
The security guard had brought her roll-along bag dockside and she followed him without a backward glance. But once outside the dock gates, she paused and turned, to see the Sheikh still on deck, watching her.
‘Until tonight,’ he called out, raising a relaxed hand.
Decision time. Bottle out, or opt in. Her choice. ‘Until tonight,’ she yelled back.
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,