The Sheikh's Hesitant Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 7) by Cara Albany Page B

want you to feel at home, Rachel," he said softly. His gaze settled on her, and she was sure she saw him glance down the length of her body. He'd done it many times during the flight on his private plane. He'd been the perfect gentleman all through the flight. The attendants on the plane had catered to their every need during the few hours it had taken travel from London.  
    Rachel smiled evenly at Zarif. "I'm sure it will be lovely."
    "Just lovely?" he asked, his brow raising a fraction.  
    Rachel nodded and shrugged. "It's going to take some getting used to."
    "Well, take your time," he said. He gestured with his hand. "My home is your home."
    "Is that some kind of local custom?" she asked.
    Zarif frowned. "Not just a custom." His gaze darkened. "I am genuinely pleased that you agreed to come here."
    "You did make me an offer I could hardly refuse," she said.
    "The offer was made in good faith. I hope you can take full advantage of it."
    What did he mean by that? Was he talking about the prospect of starting her own business out here? Or was he hinting at something entirely different?
    "I'm still trying to get my head around what it all means," she said.
    Zarif's brows furrowed. "For someone with your obvious qualities, Qazhar has much to offer."
    Rachel felt heat rush to her face. Was he talking about her professional qualities or something altogether more personal, more intimate? Sometimes she could never tell with Zarif. Occasionally she felt as if he was playing with her, teasing her, but not in a malicious way. At times, she felt like he was testing her, trying to uncover the things she had held back from him.
    Well, he was one to do that, she told herself. He was holding back as much from Rachel as she was withholding from him. Maybe they were both still strangers to each other.  
    Rachel saw the servant carrying her bags up the staircase. "Where is he taking my stuff?"
    Zarif glanced at Rachel. "A room has already been prepared for you," he explained. "I hope you'll like it. It's the most beautiful room in the palace."
    Rachel tried to think how to respond to that, but the words just wouldn't come.
    Zarif leaned closer. "Only the best for my most special guest."
    There was that hunger again, she told herself. The same look she'd seen so many times in London. The look he had never given Abby. Not once. Rachel pushed all thoughts of her former boss completely out of her mind. Abby was history now.  
    Her former employer had tried to be awkward after Zarif had made the offer to take away one of Abby's employees. Abby and Zarif wouldn't be carrying out any business in future. Rachel was sure of that. And she had noticed that on the few occasions Zarif had even mentioned Abby during the last few days, there had been a sense of relief in his voice, almost as if that part of his past was now gone forever.
    "Maybe, you'd like to see your room," Zarif said. "Then, once you've had a chance to unpack, we can have some lunch and discuss what you're going to do while you're here." He squinted at Rachel. "However long that turns out to be," he said with a mischievous lift of one dark brow.
    Rachel drew in a deep, quiet breath. Why did he have to look at her like that? Didn't he understand that she was only going be a guest here for as long as it took for her to see whether there was actually a real prospect of starting a business here or not? She knew he had offered to connect her with numerous well-heeled individuals and with some professionals already in the property business in Qazhar.  
    Zarif started toward the stairs, and she followed. It felt good to walk by his side up the stairs. Their footsteps seemed to match in perfect unison. The sound of her heels sounded unnaturally loud to her ears.  
    They reached the top of the stairs and headed down a long corridor, past closed doors. She wondered just how many room this palace had. It seemed large for one man to inhabit, but maybe that was how things were done in Qazhar.