home instead—the way we’d planned.’ Simon put the brakes on and shot a quick look at himself in the driving mirror. ‘Are you crazy? You’re best buddies with some
sheikh
—’
‘I wouldn’t describe us as “best buddies”—’ ‘
Well, friendly enough for him to invite us out. And you’d rather be sitting in your old kitchen with a home-cooked meal? I mean, what planet are you on, Frankie?
Wait
till I tell everyone that I had dinner with a royal!’
‘But you mustn’t,’ put in Frankie anxiously. ‘That’s the whole point. You’re not supposed to mention it to anyone—it’s an infringement on their privacy and they get little enough of that as it is.’
Simon’s smile was tight. ‘Let’s not drift too far from reality, shall we? I don’t need lessons in protocol from my secretary.’ He gave her knee a quick squeeze. ‘Even if she does also happen to be my fiancée!’
She gave him a weak, answering smile but Frankie’s heart was pounding as they entered the restaurant and she felt an overpowering feeling of relief when she realised that Zahid wasn’t there. Maybe he’d changed his mind about coming, she thought hopefully as they were led to their table. Decided that something more important—or someone very beautiful—had come up. Any minute now and the maître d’ would discreetly slide up to their table and tell them that he had been unavoidably detained, and …
‘Hello, Francesca.’
She’d been so deep in thought that she hadn’t noticed the sheikh enter the room until his silken and faintly accented voice broke into her thoughts. She looked up and there he was, standing in front of their table like some dark god—with Simon springing to his feet as if his long-lost brother had just appeared and for one awful moment Frankie thought that he was actually going to try to
embrace
the sheikh.
But Zahid pre-empted any inappropriate familiarity by extending a cool hand in greeting and an even cooler smile. ‘You must be Simon.’
‘And you must be Zahid. Frankie’s told me
all
about you.’
‘Has she really?’ Dark eyes were briefly glitteredin her direction as Frankie attempted to clamber to her feet, but a careless wave of his hand indicated that she should remain seated.
‘Of course I haven’t,’ said Frankie. ‘And please won’t you sit down, Zahid?’ she added on a whisper. ‘Everyone’s staring at us.’
It was true. Even the eyes of the more studiedly cool diners seemed to be drawn irresistibly to the tall man in the impeccably cut suit, whose two burly-looking companions had been seated rather ostentatiously at a table right by the door. Frankie sighed. Even if it hadn’t been for his bodyguards, he just oozed power, wealth and a potent sexual charisma which had all the women in the restaurant responding to him. She could see a blonde who’d been shoehorned into a silver dress and who seemed to be wearing most of Fort Knox around her neck was now flashing him a sticky, vermilion-lip-sticked smile.
But Zahid seemed oblivious to the restrained excitement his presence was causing. Instead, he sat down with his back to the room, and as two waiters fussed round them with the kind of speed she wasn’t used to Frankie realised that this was the first time she’d actually been out in public with him—and that this must be what it was like all the time. The flattery and deference. His every wish anticipated and granted. No wonder his manner could be so assured and so … so …
arrogant
.
Having refused wine himself, Zahid ordered champagne for a clearly eager Simon and then leaned back in his chair—looking, thought Frankie indignantly, as if he were interviewing them for some sort of job!
‘I gather congratulations are in order, Simon,’ he murmured. ‘You are indeed a lucky man.’
Simon took a mouthful of champagne, followed byan appreciative glance at the label on the bottle. ‘Aren’t I just? Although naturally, there were lots of raised