Trusting A Sheikh (Playgrounds of Power 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

leave.
    "Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like a car of your own?" she asked, hoping he would agree – she needed the time to sort out her emotions. All thought of remaining entirely professional with her new client had gone out of the window as soon as she'd seen him. Chloe was struggling to even form coherent thoughts – not good for someone in the hospitality industry. She needed a few moments to compose herself, and to come to terms with the way her mind and body were betraying her. Of all the men in London who were chasing her, why was he – of all people – the one she felt an unstoppable attraction to? But she wasn't going to get that time.
    "I'll ride with you." Tariq smiled. "I've not been to London in a long time. It'll be good for someone to fill me in on the latest." He turned to his companions, and Chloe noticed his demeanor change, becoming colder as he addressed the man who'd brought up the rear of the procession down the flight stairs.
    "Khalid – you'll ride on your own. Omar, Abdul – you’re together. I'll ride with the beautiful Miss Rouhani."
    If the obstreperous Mr. Dance had said something like that, Chloe would have chided him – she wasn't a bra burning feminist, but she certainly wanted to be known for the quality of her work rather than her good looks. As it was, Chloe spent most of the hour long car journey back into central London in an emotional torment. It wasn't just that he'd commented on her looks, it was her brain's response – that flush of attraction she felt that she couldn't deny. More than that, it was her family's connection to this man that troubled her.
    If her father could see her right now, she knew, he'd be ashamed of her. He would have got out of the car the moment the Prince had stepped in it; or maybe he'd have refused the client on principle.
    But Chloe couldn't do that. She'd worked too hard to get to this position, sacrificed too much to give it up just as she was beginning to make herself a success. Would she, willingly at least, tell her father what she was doing?
    No.
    But that wasn't to say she would let this speed bump stand in her way. Chloe was going to do her job as she had been trained, get through this fortnight, and hopefully never have to deal with the handsome Prince Tariq again. It was only a fortnight, after all – surely she would be able to resist the man for that long?
    "So, Miss Rouhani, tell me," the Prince asked, shining a winning smile on her, "where are you from?"
    "I'm English," Chloe replied shortly, attempting to deflect the question on to safer ground.
    "With skin like that?"
    "I have a little Persian in me," Chloe allowed, attempting to muddy the waters. "My father was a diplomat."
    What Chloe didn't say was that though her father had indeed been a diplomat, he hadn't been a Western one who’d fallen in love having being stationed in the Middle East – quite the opposite.
    "Aha! I thought so," Tariq said triumphantly. "You're a lucky girl."
    "I know," Chloe agreed, for quite different reasons.

5
    " B ut you must know who has him!" the young mother wailed, tears streaking through the makeup on her cheeks as she sobbed into the scrunched up material of a ruined scarf.
    The little girl hid halfway up the staircase, desperate to listen in, but fearful of getting caught. She couldn't see the man sitting on the sofa opposite her mom, but the voice sounded familiar, as though she'd once heard it in a dream.
    "I have… an inkling," the familiar voice replied slowly.
    "You have to do something!"
    "What can I do? The only sensible thing to do is wait. They won't kill him –."
    At this, the tall, young blonde woman collapsed in floods of tears into the upholstery of the sofa. "Kill him? What the hell would they do that for?"
    "That's what I'm trying to say," the older man said reassuringly. "This kind of thing happens where we come from. Not often, I'll grant you that, but it's not uncommon."
    "But they won't tell me anything. I've gone to the embassy,