Monarch of the Sands Read Online Free Page B

eyebrows when we first announced it!’
    Zahid slowly curled his fingers over the starched linen surface of the tablecloth. ‘Really?’ he questioned coolly.
    Simon leaned across the table towards him, in a man-to-man kind of way. ‘Well, lots of my friends were surprised to begin with,’ he confided.
    Frankie squirmed. She could guess what was coming and although she didn’t usually mind Simon’s justifiable boasts about the dramatic effect he’d had on her appearance, something in her rebelled at having
Zahid
hear them. ‘Zahid isn’t interested,’ she said quickly.
    ‘Oh, but Zahid is,’ corrected the sheikh archly. ‘In fact, he’s absolutely fascinated. Do continue, Simon.’
    Simon gave a disarming shrug. ‘Well, Frankie isn’t my usual type. In fact, she won’t mind me saying that she looked a bit of a geek when she came to work for me, didn’t you, darling?’ He shrugged like a man who had found a winning lottery ticket scrunched up on the pavement. ‘So I told her to grow her hair, to lose the glasses and wear a few clothes that might show off her body—and suddenly it’s “Good Morning, Cinderella!”.’ He raked the flop of blond hair off his forehead and glittered her the kind of smile which had once made her go weak at the knees. ‘And just look at her now!’
    Zahid turned his head, taking in the slump of Francesca’s shoulders and the look of acute embarrassment on her face. And even though he had been amazed and surprised by her new look, he would not have dreamed of speaking of it in such a way. He certainly would not have boasted about it as if he had beenpreparing a horse for its first important race. A slow tide of rage began to build up inside him. What kind of a man had she harnessed her destiny to—who would humiliate her in such a way? Some pretty-pretty blond boy who was drinking champagne as if it were cordial!
    ‘Why, you flaunt her as if she were a new toy,’ he observed softly.
    ‘And a very cuddly toy she is, too,’ said Simon.
    Frankie knew Zahid well enough to know when he was angry and he was very angry now. Surely Simon wasn’t blind to the nerve which was flickering at his temple, or the way he had started flexing and unflexing his long fingers on the starchy linen tablecloth. Why wouldn’t he shut up? Her eyes were beseeching him to stop being indiscreet but he didn’t even notice her—instead he seemed transfixed by his royal dining companion.
    ‘Shall we … order?’ she questioned hurriedly.
    ‘Yeah, let’s.’ Simon scanned the menu with the avaricious scrutiny of someone who knew they wouldn’t be paying the bill. ‘I’ll have the foie gras, followed by the duck à l’orange.’
    Across the table, Zahid’s black eyes met hers and she thought she read in them a mixture of mockery and contempt. She felt like squirming in her seat—or trying to explain that Simon wasn’t
always
like this—but instead she just offered the sheikh a polite smile.
    ‘Francesca?’ he questioned sardonically.
    She wasn’t in the least bit hungry, but she could hardly sit there with an empty plate while her fiancé ate his way through a gourmet feast. ‘Oh, a salad—and then the fish please.’
    ‘I’ll have the same,’ said Zahid, snapping shut hisleather menu and handing it back to the maître d’. ‘I’m assuming you’ll drink wine, Simon?’
    ‘Love to!’ Simon beamed. ‘Frankie can drive, can’t you, darling?’
    ‘Of course I can.’
    The drinks and first courses were brought and after he’d seen off most of his foie gras, Simon, now further emboldened by more wine, pushed back his lock of blond hair and smiled at Zahid.
    ‘I’m still not entirely sure how you happen to be such a good friend of the family, Zahid,’ he said. ‘Something to do with your fathers being friends, isn’t it?’
    Zahid nodded. There was no earthly reason not to try to engage in conversation with the man—even though something about him was setting his teeth on