Pleasure: The Sheikh's Defiant Bride. Sandra Marton

anyone’s going to regret anything, it’ll be you, Prince Whoever You Are, if you don’t get the hell out of my apartment right now.”

      “Do not,” he said coldly, “threaten me, madam.”

      “Do not,” she said, just as coldly, “underestimate me, sir. You came here uninvited. I’ve asked you to leave. If you don’t, I’m going to call the police. And believe me, that isn’t a threat, it’s a promise.”

      “You won’t call the police.”

      She was regaining her composure. The tilt of her head, the cool smile, told him so.

      “Do you think your title gives you power over me? This is America. There are laws—”

      “Do you want to make speeches?” Tariq folded his arms over his chest. “Or do you want to know why I’m here?”

      Madison gave an unpleasant laugh. “Trust me, your highness. I know exactly why you’re here.”

      “You think I came for sex?” He smiled thinly. “If that were true, you’d be on your back. And I’d be deep inside you—or am I supposed to forget what happened a couple of minutes ago?”

      She took a step toward him, hand raised. He caught it, enfolded it tightly in his until she gasped.

      “The last time you played games,” he said softly, “we were in a public place. We are alone now. Had I wanted to see the game through, I would have. Do you understand me?”

      “You’re hurting me!”

      He glared at her for a long minute. Then he let go, tucked his hands in his pockets and stepped away. This woman brought out the worst in him. Perhaps that was her intention, to make him lose control any way she could.

      He had come here for only one reason and it was time to get to it. He took a deep breath, slowly expelled it and looked at her.

      “I suggest it’s time you listen to what I have to say.”

      She answered by walking to the door and reaching for the knob.

      “Goodbye, your highness.”

      “Madison. Damn it, I said—”

      “I heard what you said. Now, you listen!” Her face was cold as she swung the door open. “If you ever so much as come near me again—”

      “You are pregnant.”

      Her mouth fell open. Good, he thought grimly. He had her attention, at last.

      “What did you say?”

      “You found out today, when you visited your doctor.”

      “How—how do you know that?”

      “Shut the door and I’ll tell you. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to invite your neighbors to join us …?”

      A second ticked by, then another. Finally she closed the door and folded her arms. Her stance was defiant but her eyes were dark with shock.

      “How do you know that I’m pregnant?”

      He shrugged. “Information is not difficult to acquire when you know the right people.”

      “Damn it, what’s this all about? You’re poking into my private life.”

      “Yes.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Your private life—and mine.”

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

      “You became pregnant through artificial insemination.”

      “What is this?” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me. You can’t really think you can blackmail me into bed—”

      He laughed. Her eyes narrowed; she stalked toward him and, despite everything, he found himself admiring her courage.

      “I want answers, damn it! And I want them immediately.” She stabbed a finger into the center of his chest. “How do you know these things about me? Why have you invaded my privacy?”

      As he had moments ago, Tariq caught her hand, trapped it within his, his laughter gone.

      “You have it wrong,” he said coldly. “It is you who invaded my privacy.”

      “I never even knew your name until five minutes ago!”

      “No,” he said softly. He waited; her eyes lifted to his. “But it was my sperm that made you pregnant.”

      She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. She even laughed. Whatever reaction he’d expected, it wasn’t that.

      “Very funny.”

      “Damn it, woman,” Tariq growled, “this is no joke. I’m telling you the truth. There was a mix-up somewhere. I—I gave a donation of—of my semen.” Hell, this was no time to stumble over explanations. “My doctor sent it to your company for storage but it ended up at your doctor’s office.”

      Her face drained of color.

      “I don’t believe it.”

      Her voice was thready. Good, he thought coldly. At least he was no longer the only one in shock.

      “There couldn’t have been a mistake! FutureBorn never—”

      “Never be damned. It did.”

      “I’m telling you, it’s not possible!”

      “I said the same thing but it looks like we were both wrong. You were inseminated with my seed. The child you carry in your womb—”

      The words wouldn’t come. Thinking about it in the abstract had been difficult enough. Saying it to her was impossible.

      “The child—this child inside me is—is yours?”

      Her voice had gone from thready to the faintest whisper.

      Tariq nodded. “Yes.”

      Her mouth opened, then shut. Good, he thought with harsh satisfaction. For once, he’d rendered her speechless.

      “However,” he said briskly, now that the worst was out of the way, “though you are hardly the woman I would have chosen to bear my son—or my daughter—the situation is easily remedied.”

      She was staring at him, no expression on her face at all. Good. She was taking the news well but then, she was a businesswoman. She would surely accept his settlement offer with the same equanimity with which he would make it.

      How right he’d been to break the news himself. Strickland would probably still be talking his way into her apartment.

      “Your child,” she said. “Your child …”

      She started to laugh, which he thought was odd despite her calm acceptance of what he’d just told her … except, she wasn’t laughing, she was gasping for air.

      “Madison?”

      “I’m fine,” she said.

      Her eyes rolled up in her head. All Tariq had time to do was curse and catch her in his arms as she slumped toward the floor in a dead faint.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      IF THIS had been a movie, Madison knew she’d have come out of the faint with feminine grace, the back of her hand to her forehead, fluttering her lashes as she looked up at the dark-haired hero holding her safely in his arms.

      But this wasn’t a movie. It was reality, and she came to abruptly in the arms of a man she’d hoped she would never see again.

      “What,” she said shakily, “what happened?”

      “You fainted, habiba.”

      “I never—”

      “Nonetheless, you did.”