The Sheikh's Secret Son. Maggie Cox
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in deference to his colleagues, told his employer that he would wait for him outside.
All of these events hardly reassured Darcy. The familiar scent associated with anything medical, along with the forbidding-looking examination couch, made her feel queasy, and Zafir’s daunting aristocratic presence even more so. But the most pressing thing of all on her mind was her son. At present Sami was in the care of her mother, because she was babysitting him, but what if she had to tell her that she needed to stay in hospital for the night?
Darcy had never told her mother who Sami’s father was, and she contemplated how she would couch her words in order to cause the least anxiety. She knew her mother would think she’d lost her mind—climbing the walls of the Sheikh’s home in an attempt to speak to him. Especially when she’d ended up spraining her ankle.
Was it worth it? She could hear her mother ask. You should have gone down the proper route of arranging a meeting with him, no matter how long it took. Look at what you’ve risked!
Darcy’s heart suddenly felt as heavy as a boulder inside her chest.
And that would be before she conveyed to her mother the fact that her ex-employer had been furious at her finding him even before she’d told him that he’d left her pregnant and that he now had a son.
Seeing as he was now engaged to be married, the news would hardly be the best he could receive. But, at the same time, what would the repercussions be for her? What if he immediately demanded custody of Sami? Or...worse still...wanted to take him back to Zachariah, away from her and all he had known for the past four years? That didn’t bear thinking about.
DARCY HAD A splint and a crepe bandage fitted round her injured ankle. Thankfully, the X-ray had revealed no broken bones, but Darcy had badly torn the ligaments and would need at least three weeks’ complete rest to help them start to heal—beginning with one full night at the hospital so that the medical staff could keep an eye on her.
That was the part that alarmed her the most. The swish, luxurious medical facility was clearly private, and there was no way on earth she could afford to spend any of her hard-earned cash on a stay here. It was essential she get home.
Zafir had gone to consult with the doctor and her need to talk to him was growing ever more urgent. The tension she was feeling was near unbearable. But just then he returned, and his arresting presence stirred the air. There was no sign of Rashid or Dr Eden.
The impact Zafir made in his impressive garb hit her anew. With his chiselled, strong-boned features and flowing dark hair his commanding appearance was enough to render anyone speechless. He was simply magnificent.
Propped up by a couple of plump pillows in the hospital bed, with her ankle elevated, Darcy felt her heart bump nervously against her ribs. She couldn’t help feeling a little intimidated. Instinct told her that with all the drama of her fall perhaps now wasn’t the right time to tell him about Sami, even though it was the sole reason she’d gone to his house.
Perhaps her confession should take place under more conducive circumstances? If she could arrange such a scenario, might he view her sudden unsettling appearance in his life more favourably?
Impulsively, she reached for his hand. Having not told her mother that she’d be back late, she felt her fears about spending the night away from her young son escalating.
‘I can’t possibly stay the night here, Zafir. I need to get home. There—there’s something important I have to do.’
Mesmerised, he stared down at the slender hand clasping his as if he couldn’t quite believe it was hers. Then he lifted his head, and where previously his dark eyes had been entranced, they were now hard with suspicion. Obviously he wasn’t going to be extending an olive branch to her any time soon.
‘What do you have to do that’s so important?’ he demanded. ‘Is it that you want to tell your accomplice you were unsuccessful in breaking into my house? Is that what you need to do, Darcy? Will there be repercussions for you if you don’t get home tonight?’
Wrenching back her hand, she flushed indignantly. ‘For goodness’ sake—once and for all, I wasn’t trying to break in and I don’t have an accomplice. Do you think I’ve become so desperate and vengeful since you fired me that I’d resort to breaking in to your house when I learnt you were there?’
‘I cannot attest to knowing what you’d resort to, Darcy. Once upon a time I thought I knew who you were,’ he said soberly, ‘but clearly I didn’t. As for your reasons for turning up at my residence in such a dramatic way—I am his Royal Highness Sheikh Zafir el-Kalil of Zachariah, and naturally my wealth and position draws attention...not all of it innocent.’
Distraught that he clearly still thought she was a liar, when all she’d ever done was stay loyal to him and give him her devotion, she found his words hard to bear. But suddenly part of his statement registered more emphatically.
‘I’ve just realised... That was your father’s title, wasn’t it? I mean...he was the Sheikh of Zachariah, wasn’t he? Are you saying that he’s passed away and now you’re the...?’
‘Sheikh of the kingdom... Yes, I am.’
It was as though a shutter had slammed down over his enigmatic gaze and rendered his feelings impossible to read. Was he still grieving? He must be. Darcy knew that father and son had been close.
As she twisted her hands together she felt genuine sympathy, unsullied by the turbulent waters that flowed between them. She knew only too well what it meant to lose a devoted father. And once upon a time Zafir had told her how much he loved and admired his esteemed parent, and one day hoped to display some of the wisdom and knowledge he was revered for himself.
‘I’m sorry... I mean I’m sorry for your loss,’ she added softly.
For a brief moment it looked as if the mistrust and suspicion in his eyes had lessened. But very quickly his expression was stony again, and it brought her firmly back to the present.
Raising his chin, he remarked, ‘As I was saying, my position inevitably draws attention and not all of it is welcome. I am fully aware that those who are unscrupulous might try and steal from me from time to time.’
‘Well, I’m not one of those.’ Her brilliant blue eyes didn’t hide her dismay. ‘And there’s nothing I want that I would be prepared to steal from anyone...certainly not anything material. If I couldn’t buy it for myself then I’d just as soon forget it.’
‘Then what is this urgent need you have to see me? The reason for all the messages you say you left at my office...messages that I never received?’
‘I wanted to tell you about that in private. Somewhere we can speak freely.’
The expression on his face told Darcy that she was sorely testing him. His glance impatiently swept the room before returning to rest on her. ‘This is private enough. You might not get another chance.’
‘Why? Do you despise me so much that you can’t bear the thought of seeing me again?’
Hearing the disturbing catch in her voice, Zafir was alarmed. Could any man despise a woman who looked like she did?
He remembered the day she’d walked into his office, having been assigned to him as his PA. He had arranged that the bank’s administrative manager would select someone for him, as it would be one less thing for him to do on his arrival from Zachariah, and the man who had selected Darcy from the pool of highly qualified secretaries the bank employed had assured him that she was one of the best. Having read her credentials, Zafir had agreed.
When he’d finally met her, his heart had stalled in surprise and pleasure. Her beauty had been the ethereal kind that romantic poets wrote the most exquisite accolades to...
All thoughts of work and the demanding schedule he’d had ahead of him had been instantly forgotten. Being a red-blooded,