The Sheikh’s Offer By: Ella Brooke & Jessica Brooke
All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2015-2016 Ella & Jessica Brooke
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Warning: This is a spin-off to the popular story “The Sheikh’s Wedding Assistant.” Click here to read it now if you haven’t already!
Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Free preview The Sheikh’s American Desire
Chapter One “He’s adorable,” Kelly Kentworth said as she smiled at her godson, Gabriel Hassem. About eighteen months ago, Alana Fiora, her best friend had married into the royal family of Al-Marasae. It hadn’t been the smoothest of arrangements at first since Sheikh Dharr had tricked Alana into coming to his palace and becoming his bride. At first, she’d simply started out as the wedding planner. When the actual bride stepped out of the running, Alana had been upgraded. The couple worked through the rocky start though. Kelly had known Alana for over a decade, even as middle school kids, and she’d never seen her best friend happier. Alana
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wore such a constant and broad smile on her face. It definitely had a lot to do with her favorite munchkin. Gabriel had the beautifully wide, almost turquoise eyes of his mother. They were so large on his tiny face that it made him look like a character from an animé show. It was beyond precious. His olive-hued skin came from both of his parents, but the mop of curly hair seemed to be more from the Hassem side like his grandfather and his Uncle Asam. Gabriel was a toddling monster, going everywhere and sticking everything in his mouth. She’d caught him not five minutes ago sucking on oversized Legos. Now she understood why parents freaked out over checking labels on toy boxes and making sure there weren’t any small parts. Gabriel would probably have stuck marbles and any
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number of other choke-tastic items in his mouth if Alana gave him access to them. Precocious was apparently parental code for “I’m never sleeping again” and “please, help me watch my child 24/7.” Good to know. “He’s my precious flower,” Alana said, wrapping her burnt-orange kaftan more tightly around her shoulders. “That said, if you want to keep him for about a month so I can get some rest, that would be amazing.” Kelly chuckled. “As if you don’t have a ton of loyal and waiting servants who are more than happy to help their sheikha with the future heir.” “Technically,” Alana said, looking at the stick Gabriel had brought her from the garden as if it were the Holy Grail, “Faaid is
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the oldest. His children are in line for the actual ruling duties. I’m sure Grandpa Azhaar is more interested in making sure my family keeps Hassem Petroleum, Inc. running. It’s slightly less pressing.” “Still, you have tons of ways to sleep. There must be nannies on top of nannies here!” “That’s true, but Dharr and I like to be as hands-on as we can. Our son is the light of our lives. I know he has Grandma Yahira to watch him while I’m working on legal cases or while his dad is in the boardroom, but we don’t want a legion of caretakers. Dharr grew up that way and, while he loves his mom, it’s just too isolated of a childhood. My family has always been so tight. I want that for Gabriel too.” Kelly nodded and smiled down at the blossoms her godson had handed to her too.
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She was pretty sure they’d once been red rose petals before the leave had been mashed into a bit of a paste. Her grin grew wider, and she patted the soft mop of brown curls atop Gabriel’s head. “That’s so sweet. You’re on your way to wooing the ladies, little man.” Alana laughed and stroked her son’s back. “Don’t give him ideas. His uncle is already so notorious, and it’s not like Dharr wasn’t a wild child either. I’d rather have to worry about him leaving a string of broken hearts across the Middle East than him developing a penchant for Formula One racing.” “And street racing.” Her best friend frowned and nodded after a pause. Sheikh Dharr had been forced to start his marriage hunt early because of his father’s ultimatums. That had all started because Dharr’s his wild pastimes dragged
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the Hassem family name through the mud. Outside of Faaid, the oldest brother, all the Hassem siblings had bad boy reputations that preceded them to say the least. “Dharr would never want Gabriel to get into anything wild like that.” “Well, you have about fourteen years before he’s even old enough to take driver’s ed,” Kelly said and then she blinked. “Wait. Is there a minimum age here in Al-Marasae to learn?” “No, not really, but sixteen was good enough for me. Besides, we’re driven everywhere anyway.” “How fancy!” Chuckling, Alana ducked her head. “You know what I mean. I still prefer to do as
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much of my own stuff as I can. I’m not turning into a diva.” “Turning into? You were always a little high-strung and high-maintenance.” “I’ll plead the Fifth.” “Sure you will, lawyer-gal,” Kelly said with a wink. “But speaking of bad boy sheikhs, how is Asam doing?’ “Oh, so you’re just taking a poll, are you? Did you start working for Arabian Heir Monthly?” “No, but if I said it was just scientific curiosity, you’d let it go at that, right?” She pushed a lock of her long golden hair out of her face. Alana kept hers at shoulder length, but Kelly loved having hers flow halfway down her back. It could be a pain even back home in Las Vegas, but it was getting
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unbearable after a week in the one hundred and twenty degree days in Al-Marasae. She was sweating everywhere. Her hair was limp, and beads of sweat dripped down her neck. Ick. She’d be glad to be back in Vegas soon, not that it was that much cooler, but in the fall, it was at least bearable. Of course, when she went home, she would be alone in her empty apartment that she used to share with Alana before her friend upgraded from legal eagle to sheikha of an exotic land. It was tough. She didn’t begrudge Alana her happiness, but Kelly wished she could have some of her own as well. She struck out all the time on MatchMe.Com. The few guys she’d had more than a first date with seemed to be crazy or uninteresting. The one who collected stamps had been a real standout in the loser Olympics. Besides,
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none of them compared to the one who got away. “You’re extremely transparent,” Alana said, smiling that Mona Lisa smile of hers as she held her son on her lap. “If you want to know how Asam’s doing, you should call him. I can get you his number, and he’s always flying in and out of the States. Heck, that’s his biggest problem. His father, Azhaar, is always frustrated with him about it. It’s London one weekend and then New York or Chicago the next.” “Do I want to know why?” Kelly asked, terrified of the answer. She and Asam hadn’t spent a lot of time together. She’d only visited Al-Marasae a few times, including her best friend’s wedding to Dharr. But they’d also had a few massive arguments during that trip and once during Ramadan.
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The first time they ever met, she honestly felt like they hit it off. They’d had such an easy and fun repartee at the Marquee’s poolside, but then he’d ducked out on her for a fire-eating stripper. It was Vegas, of course. That was one of the bachelor party options because what wasn’t. When she saw him later, she hated herself for missing him. The connection they’d had for a few hours had fizzled so fast. As mad as she’d been the other two times they’d met, she still had feelings for him. Lust would have been the easy answer since he was handsome, but that wasn’t all of it. Something about Asam’s charisma intoxicated her. She hated she was so prone to falling for it, but no matter how many blind dates or online dating sites she went on, she couldn’t help but want his hazel eyes staring back at her instead of the man she actually got. She
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wanted the charming sheikh who smelled of thyme and just a hint of paprika. She craved those strong hands clutching her own. Their first encounter still haunted her mind even almost two years. Maybe a relationship with him would simply be an excuse to live in AlMarasae near her best friend. Or maybe the poor selection of guys on MatchMe just weren’t doing it for her. Still, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get Asam out of her thoughts. He was like a drug coursing through her veins that she’d never get her fill of. Of course, if he were jetting off to a new city every weekend to enjoy the clubs and the multitudes of women—his family weren’t so orthodox that he couldn’t party like a frat boy—then Asam was likely over her.
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Alana waved her hand. “Earth to Kelly?” Kelly blinked and shook Asam from her thoughts. Ugh, shoot her now. She couldn’t even pay attention to a conversation with her best friend. “So Asam’s living it up, huh?” Sighing, Alana patted Kelly’s hand again. “It’s not like that.” She rolled her eyes. “Really?” “Okay, it is, but Dharr tells me he’s always been that way. The least responsible and the biggest party animal. I guess that goes with being the youngest. Besides, tell me about the guys in your life. You have to have someone.” Kelly laughed and leaned over to kiss her godson’s chubby cheek. “I have someone.
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His name is Jasper. He’s white with a fluffy coat and long whiskers. Oh, and he's definitely been fixed because tomcats are a pain in the...ah...rear to deal with.” “Thanks for watching your language,” Alana said, chuckling. “I swear both Dharr and Faaid are tempted to curse in Arabic when on the line for business dealings. My child will be a proficient curser if I’m not careful. At least I can try to keep it down to one language.” She sighed. “I’m so sorry, though. Not that Jasper isn’t a great cat. But, he’s not as great a cat as Pumpkin is dog.” “Uh huh, keep digging deeper.” “I miss him! But I couldn’t bring Pumpkin all the way here, and it’s too hot with that thick of a coat. It’s good that dad’s therapist recommended he get a dog to help him. If he feels anxious about wanting to
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gamble, he just has to bond with Pumpkin instead.” Kelly kept a smile planted on her face. Alana’s dad had been struggling with a gambling addiction for a while. He’d gotten better with therapy that Dharr had generously paid for. He was still even working at his law firm, but he was managing and a big part of that was Pumpkin’s daily comfort. Not that dogs were so special. Cats were clearly the superior species. After all, which animal ruled the internet with millions of viral videos? Hint, it wasn’t any of those slobbering machines. “But I do worry about you. I’m all the way over here, and I don’t want you to be lonely.” “Working at Paradiso and cooking for a mega-buffet set up on Sundays keeps me
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busy, and Jasper has my back. He’s a good scratcher, so he’s good protection too. I have a full life, really.” “So that’s why you’re asking after Asam after all this time?” “What? I was just taking a survey. You were telling me how you’re getting along with Yahira and giving me the lowdown on all of Gabriel’s uncles and cousins. See? I’m just making conversation.” “Sure, Kel. If you change your mind, I can get you the number in a heartbeat. After all, maybe he’s flitting around so much because he already found what he wanted but doesn’t think he can have her.” Kelly lifted her chin higher. “He can’t. He chose a fire-eater who was a very creative dancer to boot. I just…I was only curious.
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Just dish on the rest of the Hassem clan while you can.” *** Going home was hard. The palace was always bustling with energy. After all, it wasn’t just Dharr and Alana who lived there. Faaid and his family were in one of the many wings as well as Dharr’s parents. There were tons of servants and even the old sheikh’s retired harem. It was its own thriving metropolis behind the compound’s gates. But there was more than that. Her best friend lived there, and now she couldn’t hear that laugh any time she wanted or give Alana a big hug at the end of a hard workday. Life wasn’t the same. Kelly longed to see the bright, smiling face of her godson or even
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cute glimpses of Dharr and Alana holding hands or cuddling. It wasn’t about the number of people living in the palace, but the warmth and family vibe there. As she walked into her apartment, Kelly sighed. Her place had been a mess when she left. She’d been running late with packing and had shirts and pants flung all over her bedroom. The pet sitter she’d tried to space out last cleaned the litterbox yesterday and, after being gone for over a week, she grimaced at the intense odor of cat urine again. Of course, the only things in her refrigerator were a few leftovers in Tupperware containers. They were probably green and fuzzy by now, likely even supporting new forms of life this planet had never seen before.
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A familiar warmth rubbed against her shins, and she reached down to pick up her favorite white bundle of fur. “Ooof,” Kelly said, bringing the cat to her chest. “You are getting super heavy, Jasper. I might have to take you off wet food.” “Mrowr?” She sighed and kissed his nose. “It’s just you and me tonight, buddy. I mean, what else is new? Do we crash with Chinese and a movie or do we do pizza and a book?” “Mrowr.” “That’s not a helpful answer,” she playfully chastised him, as she pulled out her phone. “Hey, Mandarin Inn, it’s Kelly Kentworth. I am going to need the usual...”
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***
Chapter Two “That’s how the groundbreaking is going. It will take at least a year for a hotel and shopping complex of this scale to be fully built in Zayed, but the contractors are keeping to the schedule. If we can make this work, we’ll turn Zayed into the next desirable tourist city out here. Hell, Dharr, it could be the start of making Zayed as a city that could compete with Dubai. Come for the Gucci, stay for the car racing, indoor roller coasters, and ice-skating. That sort of thing.” Asam’s older brother grinned. “That’s something to consider, brother, but let’s see if we can get anything going forward, any momentum at all. I’ve risked a lot on various wells for HPI, but oddly, I’ve never been more nervous. New hotels or restaurants often close no matter what you do. You could
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start with a bang then lose all the buzz. It’s just a completely different venture for us.” “We could give the best attractions in Vegas, Dubai, or New York a run for their money,” Asam said, running his fingers over the end of his beard. Unlike his father who was more traditional, Asam kept his beard trimmed short. It had a tip that hung down from his chin, but it was nothing like the chest-length beard his father wore. Story of his life. He was always caught between two extremes—the traditions of the Hassem family name and of his father’s expectations and his own personal style and comfort. At the same time, his father’s wish for him was to be responsible and an adequate representative of the family. It was long past time for
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Asam to be the good son. He’d never be a leader like Faaid had been groomed to be, nor would he ever be the business mogul of the family’s oil empire like Dharr. He was the party animal who loved life. So far, he’d been unable to balance his bachelor lifestyle with all of Sheikh Azhaar’s expectations. Hell, even his brothers struggled with all the edicts and rules their father dished out. At least they seemed to be finding their way and having great families. All Asam had going for him was the hope for a successful shopping center and hotel unveiling in a few months, if all stayed according to plan. Otherwise, he was destined to remain the “hopeless Casanova” as Dharr often teased, or worse. His mother and father were less kind and often called him a lazy cad. “Are you okay, brother?” Dharr asked. “You seem distracted. Do you need to extra assistants or should I send Alana with you
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for a few weeks? I’d like to make sure all I’s are dotted, T’s are crossed, and we don’t get taken advantage of. One thing I’ve found in life is that contractors will always try to wriggle out of obligations if you don’t hold them to it.” “And they always promise that everything will be done in two weeks,” Asam said, chuckling a little. “No, I’m not nervous like you. This is a great idea. While I’ve never ran a mall and hotel combined, we’re hiring the right people. The Hassem family has always managed its needs before. I think we can do it again. Besides, I’m an expert in which bits of luxury appeal the most. We should go with that here.” “So those months spent poolside at the Hard Rock in Vegas or hanging out at the Plaza in New York during the holiday season were practice for your shot to be the next Hilton family?”
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“Don’t aim so low,” Asam said, chuckling again. “I aim to have the next Bellagio. I mean real luxury. I’m not settling for anything less than a five-star Michelin rating.” “I just want it done and have nothing catch on fire, be poorly rated, or for anyone to end up with food poisoning.” “That’s optimism.” Asam slumped down onto the sofa in his brother’s office. “I know this is my first serious business venture.” “In almost thirty years,” his brother said. “Yes, but I have a plan. All joking aside, I’ve done my research. We’re in a growing market just with our own citizens. We’ve tripled the average salary in this country with the growth of easy oil access, and as HPI has surged, we have attracted other
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business ventures as well. We’re close enough to the Dead Sea for that to be a day trip from Zayed and the hotel. It really has so many draws. Yes, I know what type of tile or caviar or even terry cloth I’d prefer. Think of the last eight years since I graduated college as testing what works and what doesn’t at other hotels.” “Practically all of them with more than your fair share of buxom companions,” Dharr said, his voice taking on a harder edge. Asam rolled his eyes. Usually Dharr was the only one who defended him. The family’s tendency to pile on him was one of the big reasons he avoided staying at main palace in Marasimaq when he could. He was only here now because going over the plans was best done in person and not over Skype. Still, he could usually depend on Dharr to understand his
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restlessness and desire to try everything life had to offer. He couldn’t believe that even Dharr was disdainful of his life choices of late. Maybe being a dad had changed him. People assumed they had become as wise as Buddha and Confucius combined once they had a kiddo. As much as Asam adored his nephew, he didn’t think Gabriel came along with the secrets of life. “You too, brother?” Dharr arched an eyebrow. “What?” “Don’t play coy. You lack the ability to do it. It doesn’t fool anyone.” “Then you need to spell things out more.” “That tone. I know what it means. It means you’ve joined Faaid, Mother, and
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Father on the ‘ne’er-do-well brother must settle down’ train.” “I have never said the phrase ‘ne’erdo-well’ in my life, just so you know.” “A technicality,” Asam replied, stretching his legs out on the sofa. “You think I shouldn’t keep exploring options and having fun.” “Running a business full-time once the Oasis opens will stop a lot of that extra travel. You can only do so much over email and video chat. Anyway, I admit it’s been on my mind, but not in a ‘you’re bringing shame to us’ way. I’m hardly one to talk.” “But you’ve done better since the accident and what happened. You weren’t the only one who consented to race.”
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Dharr nodded, but he didn’t speak for a while. Asam could understand. His brother had been an even bigger goofball and even less responsible, or at least he was until the racing accident. Asam had no idea what that depth of guilt must feel like, but he knew it had sobered his brother and made him grow up in a way few things ever had. Finally, Dharr seemed collected enough to continue their conversation. “Kelly visited us last week. She seemed so down.” “Yes, Kelly’s winning personality probably has a lot to do with that. That kitten has claws, and she’s never been shy about scratching my eyes out when I talk to her. If she’s as nice to other guys, I can understand how she might be on the path to becoming a crazy cat lady.”
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“She’s very nice. Alana and I both agreed that you and she should be Gabriel’s godparents.” “That’s probably as close to a couple as we’ll ever get. I tried to smooth things over with her, but she was nasty at both your wedding and last Ramadan. I’ve gotten to the point where even trying to speak with her ends up feeling like being dipped in acid. I can’t do it. Besides, when have you ever played matchmaker, brother?” Dharr shrugged. “I don’t, but Alana strongly hinted that if I didn’t want to sleep on the couch, I might want to tell you to get your act together.” “Like you’d ever let her do that. You’re a sheikh. If she got mad, she’d have to go to a couch or a hotel on her own.”
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“You obviously don’t know Alana. She’s as stubborn as any woman I’ve ever met. I’m sure it’s the lawyer in her. It didn’t hurt to bring it up.” Dharr crossed his arms over his chest. “I have to say I agree on this. There seemed to be something between you two at the bachelor party, and you might have made her upset.” “I went off with a fire-eating stripper, and I’ve never heard the end of it since. I’ve tried apologizing to her or even having a civil conversation. Alana’s misreading the signs, even if Kelly is her best friend. Trust me. Ms. Kentworth would like nothing more than my head on a pike.” “I doubt Kelly’s that angry,” Dharr said, shaking his head. “Well then.” Asam sat up on the sofa, leaning forward toward his brother. “If she doesn’t want my head on a pike, I’m still
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pretty sure she’d castrate me. I appreciate Alana is looking out for her best friend and that you’re trying to help me too, Dharr, but some things just don’t work out. Besides, I have a private yacht cruise next week with half of the Victoria’s Secret new angels for this year. It’s going to be legendary.” His brother puckered his lips, looking like he’d sucked on a lemon. “I know what it’s like to have fun, but I also know it eventually gets stale. You can think I’m lame or whipped after you go back to your room, but I’ve never been happier in my life. Gabriel and Alana are the reasons why. There’s something about the constant love and support of your own family that makes the rest of life worthwhile. There aren’t enough underwear models in the world to replicate that.”
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“Have you met every underwear model in the world? Oh, that might be a good life goal,” Asam retorted. “I don’t buy that the leering ladies’ man is all you are anymore. It might be a college thing, but it’s not for you now. For Alana’s sake, I wish you and Kelly could rekindle things. I know that’s not something I can hope for. However, no matter what shame Mother and Father keep trying to make you feel, I just wish you’d find the right girl. Deep down I think you’re lonelier than you let on, brother.” “I’m having fun. Seeing six out of the seven continents whenever I feel like it, and I’m building up my first big real estate project. I couldn’t be happier,” he added, smirking back at his brother, even if it was a forced expression. Asam didn’t feel nearly as nonchalant about any of it as he wished he did.
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Damn Dharr for knowing his every tell and grinning knowingly back at him. “As you wish, Asam. You can lie to me as long as you want, but you know how you feel inside. You must feel empty somewhere in your soul because two years ago, before Alana, I felt the same way. Even if Kelly isn’t the one, you’re long past the time of playing with underwear models, and I think you know that.” Dharr stood from his desk. “I need to go check on Alana, actually. She’s drawing up contracts for a new oil company merger with new wells being acquired. You can stay as long as you like, and if you ever get tired of the wild bachelor lifestyle, then Alana can set you up.” “Victoria’s Secret, Dharr. I never will tire of it.” He leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes. He’d flown in from Los Angeles after a courtside seat at a Lakers game yesterday, so Asam was still catching up from jet lag. A quick catnap on his
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brother’s luxurious leather couch couldn’t hurt. “But thank you for offering,” he said, trying to be nice. He lifted his left arm over his eyes. “I’ll catch a quick nap before I walk back to my room. I might have been more exhausted from flying than I thought.” “You almost face-planted into your dates and honey at breakfast this morning. You’re exactly as tired as I assumed you were,” his brother said. Asam just shrugged. He was glad when his brother left. Oddly, Dharr’s quiet concern was harder to deal with than the very vocal complaints of his mother, father, and Faaid. Probably because when the “why aren’t you married yet?” nitpicking came from the rest of his family, it sounded condescending and self-involved. Always more about how Asam’s lifestyle reflected on the Hassem
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name than about actually caring for him. It was easy to ignore those endless lectures. It was different when he realized his brother and his sister-in-law were hurting for him. He just didn’t know how to be any different. He wasn’t sure how to make the effort to succeed. After all, for a few brief hours, he’d really connected once with Kelly and felt something he’d never had with a woman before. But that had all been a mistake, and she’d hated him ever since. What was wrong with having fun if Faaid and Dharr managed the family business and had all that vaunted responsibility covered? Heavy footsteps sounded on the tiled floor along with a third distinct thump with every shuffle. Groaning, Asam opened his
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eyes. Just as he’d feared, his father hunched over his cane. His dark eyes narrowed at Asam, and he shook his head as if Asam would ever be so dense as to miss the clear signs of his father’s disapproval. The only thing Azhaar Hassem ever seemed to feel for him in his twenty-nine years was disappointment. Well, that mixed with disdain and probably a desire to disown Asam altogether. “Father, I was hoping I could avoid you this visit.” His father wheezed and regarded him further. “You hope to avoid me every visit. I can understand why. That’s something to aim for when you know you’re a chronic disappointment.” Asam surged to his feet. That was clearly his cue to leave. No good ever came
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from being near Father Dearest. “It’s good to know you’re consistent, Father.” “Your brothers have grown into the men and leaders I’d hoped they’d be. With Dharr, it took a bit of convincing on my part.” “You blackmailed and forced him get a bride. Then when he tried to marry Alana, you threw a fit because she wasn’t Muslim enough even if her mother is Lebanese.” “Her father is still a fumbling infidel, but your brother has straightened out his ways. He no longer races or gets his name in every tabloid and salacious site on the planet.” “Good for him. And Faaid was always Mr. Responsible.”
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“That’s true, but what am I going to do with you?” “I’ve always been a fan of ‘live and let live’ myself,” Asam quipped as he tried to slip past his elderly father. The old bastard snaked out his hand and grabbed his forearm tightly. Asam hissed as his father’s yellowed nails dug into his skin. “You shouldn’t be so flippant. You know I can disinherit you, don’t you, boy?” “I don’t believe you would.” “I’m tired of you whoring around with Western women. I am proposing to you something similar to what I told Dharr a couple years ago. You will bring me an appropriate bride, one that I can approve of, and you will do it within six months. Dharr says you’re focusing hard to make the Oasis one of the finest hotels on Earth, but I won’t
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trust you or your instincts until you have a woman stabilizing you as well.” “That’s insane.” “You’re an heir to billions and one of the oldest kingdoms in the Middle East. The wealth and luxury…the respect of Al-Marasae is yours for the taking as well if only you would grow up like your brothers. You have six months, Asam. I hope for all of our sakes that you can be the man Dharr says you are. I’ll be shocked if it turns out that way, but I’ve always liked watching wagers. Bring me a real bride, and you stay a full sheikh. Fail to do so, and I hope you’ve saved your money well because someone else from within the Hassem family will run Oasis forever.” Asam glared back at his father and balled his hands into fists at his side. He wouldn’t strike someone as feeble as his father had grown; after all, he was a believer in
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fair play. However, he couldn’t completely squelch his anger. “You’re always about ultimatums.” “I am, but this is very real. Either show me your dedication, or I will disown you. If you don’t want to live on some American friend’s sofa and eat peanut butter after March, I suggest you work hard on finding a woman suitable to join our family.” “I loathe you, old man.” “You wouldn’t be the first person,” his father said, wheezing again. “Now, get to it. The clock is ticking.” *** Asam shucked off his jacket when he got back to his room in the palace. Since he’d left for college at Princeton, he hadn’t been there more than two or three days in a row.
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The palace was nice, but he could get a kingsized bed and a heavenly mattress at any five-star hotel. What he couldn’t get here was a reprieve from his parents’ scrutiny and raucous advice. Of course, the gorgeous silks and soft, brightly colored pillows as well as the antique rugs his great, great, great...and then some...grandparents had collected over the centuries were something you could only get here in Marasimaq. It was beautiful but hollow. It all made Asam long to be either free of his family or make them proud, at least once. He thought that by spearheading the Oasis initiative and expanding the family business in a direction it had never been in he’d get some respect. Maybe his father needed to see the first year of receipts before he’d give him even a begrudging nod, which
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with Azhaar Hassem was as close as any of them would probably ever get to a blessing. But if he didn’t have the right wife and a rugrat forthcoming, then that wouldn’t be enough. Suddenly more tired than anything jet lag could explain, Asam stripped off his clothes then stepped into his shower. It was a huge marble monstrosity decked out with several jets. He loved the feeling of hot water streaming down his body. He spent as little time in Al-Marasae as he could but even he admitted that would change when someone needed to be the head of the soon-to-open Oasis. Still, it had put him out of practice. As a child and teen, he’d gotten used to the dry sand that seemed to get in every crevice due to windstorms. Maybe he had an alternative purpose as well.
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Reaching down, he started to caress his testicl*s, slipping his thumb and forefinger around them. With his other hand, he reached down to stroke his heavy member. After speaking with his brother, he had only one woman on his mind. He focused on the beautiful sight that was Kelly Kentworth. She was a bit curvier than he normally liked, but something about her ample hips and delicious cleavage enticed him. She was refreshing after his years spent chasing after models made like coat racks and bed slats. Her green eyes shone like emeralds when she smiled, and her long blonde hair that she kept halfway down her back always sparkled like gold in the sunlight. She was beautiful, but she wasn’t his. Except as he continued to massage his balls, to work his hand over his hard length until his knees felt weak beneath him, at least here it felt like she could be. He
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imagined the ecstasy it would be to slip into her warm core and feel her spasm around him. His tongue would trace nimbly over her nipples. Her skin would be soft and supple under his ministrations. All he wanted was another chance with her, to make her scream his name as she org*smed for him. Finally, he came with a groan and spurted his seed onto the tile floor of his shower. Asam’s knees went weak, and he steadied himself against the far wall of the shower with his palms planted flat against the smooth surface. A devilish idea came to his mind. If his father was so set on him getting a wife then, damn it, he knew exactly whom he’d ask. Maybe he could make her come around this time around. What else did he have to lose outside of his entire inheritance?
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Kelly would be worth it, if only he could convince her. ***
Chapter Three “You only need a few slivers of Parmesan, but you should really layer on the ricotta in the middle. That’s what brings the manicotti’s flavors out, and you definitely need to go light on the garlic. People make that mistake far too often, and suddenly, it’s all heartburn and bad breath. No one coming to our famous buffet wants that,” Kelly said, smiling at her new sous-chef. The other woman was an expert in her own right and had been working at the Bellagio before she came to the citywide famous kitchen of the Paradiso hotel and casino. However, Kelly wanted her to know her quirks and the recipe’s ins and outs. Tina pushed a lock of auburn hair out of her eyes and smiled back at Kelly. “That
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sounds completely doable. I think I can make this work.” “I bet you can. It’s really not too hard here. We focus on clean flavors. The ingredients are fresh and locally sourced, and they speak for themselves. There’s no need to over spice when we have the best tomatoes in Nevada working for us.” Tina grinned. “I’m just excited to be working for the Kelly Kentworth!” Kelly laughed. “You already have the job. Once Monique signs your contract, there’s not much I can do about it until the owner gets a bee in her bonnet.” Kelly decided not to mention the heiress’s tendency for crazy ideas about what she wanted and how she changed her mind about how to run the casino about once a week. That was something all long-term employees learned to cope with. Not surprisingly, that was also
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the reason why at only five years and change with the Paradiso, Kelly was considered a long-timer. “Anyway, you help make the manicotti, and I’ll start on the lobster ravioli. Trust me. On the strip, if you put anything lobster on a buffet, it goes fast.” “I can imagine,” Tina said. “But I wasn’t sucking up. I’ve read about the awards the Paradiso won last year in the Vegas Cuisine-Off. The Paradiso’s so new, relatively speaking, but you all kicked some Venetian ass in Italian food. That sounds like it shouldn’t even be possible!” “Thanks, I think,” Kelly said, winking and turning to her own dishes. That lobster wouldn’t shred itself. That was done by hand and took more time than she’d like, but it was one of their most popular dishes. It brought people into the casino, people who ended up staying to gamble. “That’s sweet.”
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It was nice to be lauded. Although, Kelly knew she was talented, and she commanded the kitchen staff of the Paradiso with aplomb and at times an iron fist. However, it often burned. She desperately wanted to run her own place. In her dreams, she was back in New York where she’d perfected her craft at culinary school. She would be in a small place because the rent in NYC was insane, but she’d have her name above the door and wouldn’t be at the whims of what Monique Dawson wanted. She’d be able to feel like she’d made it. Her gig at the Paradiso was huge and paid well, but it wasn’t what she’d dreamed of. Besides, she was sick of Vegas’s constant heat as well as the cacti and desolate, brown view. She wanted to someplace with seasons. Odd as it was, she missed snow—even if NYC could get its share of snowpocalypses—and she missed the way
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Fifth Avenue and Central Park were lit up and decorated for Christmas. Vegas tried, but it felt fake here out in the desert. Kelly hadn’t always felt this way, but since Alana was half a world away, she yearned more and more to go home. Of course, this was still, with all its ups and downs, a once in a lifetime gig. She wasn’t even twenty-eight yet and she had a job most chefs would kill for. She couldn’t leave, and it just made her feel more trapped. Her life of late seemed to be lonely, isolated, and spent petting her ornery cat Jasper late at night. Without Alana, it just wasn’t the same and dealing with Monique was wearing on her. She smiled anyway and nodded her encouragement back at her new sous-chef. She had seven more hours to go, so it was best not to get upset now. That was what her after-work pint of Ben & Jerry’s was for.
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It would have stayed like that—the quiet and almost zombie-like monotony—if not for someone coughing behind her. Kelly turned around, but she wasn’t shocked to see the reed thin brunette towering over her. Monique Dawson was the heiress to an old steel family that had seen the coming tech boom and invested hard in the 1960s in medical equipment. She was worth a couple billion alone, and that was the tip of the iceberg with that family. Her boss had a pinched, upturned nose and sharp, evaluating brown eyes with her chestnut hair in an angled bob. Monique was also someone you could expect ninety-nine times out of a hundred to be sneering at you. A winning personality wasn’t her style. “Kelly, how are you doing?”
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“Fine. We have everything cooking for the lunch buffet, and I’m thinking of doing a swordfish special for the a la carte dinner tonight.” “That’s great. I’m glad you’re such a food expert,” Monique said with a cloying tone. It didn’t escape Kelly’s how the other woman shook her head while running her gaze over Kelly’s hips and curves. “I live to serve the Paradiso.” Kelly frowned at her. “Ms. Dawson, is there something you wanted? You usually don’t come to the kitchen.” Correction, she never came here. It was clear something was on her Prada-coifed mind. Monique gave her a tight smile. Kelly had seen great white sharks with safer grins. “I decided we needed to revamp the buffet. It’s great you have this Italian thing going
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on, but do you know how many carbs and saturated fats are in this?” Kelly’s frown intensified. Of course she knew. The cheese and cream sauces were why it tasted so good. “People have liked it so far.” “Yes, but I want to go in a completely different direction. I was hoping you could work up a new fusion menu. Something vegan.” Kelly widened her eyes. She had to have heard Monique wrong. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know how to do health food dishes, but that wasn’t her specialty. There were a few low-carb and low-fat options to order direct from the menu here at Paradiso already. Her salads were well regarded, especially her grilled wasabi chicken. However, going from Italian to vegan was a complete 180. The foods couldn’t be further apart, and
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it wasn’t what their loyal customers and the tourists they lured in expected. “I can, but I’m confused.” Monique glared down at her ample hips one more time. Kelly wanted to groan. Seriously, not everyone could spend three hours on a treadmill and eat like Monique did. “I assumed so. Look, I’ve decided we need a new healthy angle. I felt since you’ve done so much to build the kitchen’s reputation…” No, Kelly had done everything. Before her, the Paradiso wasn’t even in the top twenty hotel destinations in Vegas. Now it was well regarded enough for the food only to be listed in the top ten best of ratings consistently. “Yes, I do try.”
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“Exactly, so start showing me a vegan fusion. Bring me your first sample dish tonight, and we’ll see what we can do to really rehab this place.” Kelly swallowed hard. She wanted to demand that Monique repeat herself. Not that she hadn’t already heard the other woman loudly and clearly, but rehab her ass. Kelly had put this place on the map. Monique had to be kidding. However, since she still needed a job to avoid living in a box under an overpass, she kept a strained smile planted on her face. She could scream into a pillow later tonight back at her apartment. “I can work on that. I just…let me go get the ingredients.” ***
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Kelly was absolutely shocked as she made her way through the labyrinthine halls of the casino floor and passed the bar. It was only eleven, but the floor never closed. A casino that wasn’t open was a casino not maximizing their profits. Besides, no natural light was ever allowed in. There were no windows where the games and slot machines were. That was a trick to keep people gambling that was as old as the city itself. It also meant booze flowed freely at all hours. After all, the only thing better—and more prone to making mistakes—than an exhausted gambler was a drunk, exhausted gambler. Just like Asam Hassem who she’d been happy not to see for nearly nine months, ever since the Ramadan festival when she’d visited at the palace.
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Kelly had hoped she wouldn’t be seeing him for several more months or even decades. Decades was good. “Are you kidding me?” Asam winked back at her. She tried to ignore how attractive he was. The sheikh was over six feet tall with dark, bronzed skin and hazel eyes that had more flecks of gold in them than one would think possible. His beard was longer than she’d have preferred, but it felt wonderful and enticing when they’d made out at his brother Dharr’s bachelor party. His build was that of a runner, lean but muscular. He had dark, silky hair too. Something she also knew thanks to the bachelor party was how much fun it was to stroke her through those curls. Not that she’d let him know.
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Asam was also a rat bastard who ran off with the first shiny thing he saw. Someone who had gone from being so friendly with her and truly seemed to care about their conversation to just running off with a stripper when Kelly had gone to get a drink. He’d tried apologizing since, but she didn’t understand his motives. Just because her best friend and his brother were married didn’t mean anything. They were both godparents to Gabriel, but that didn’t require them to be lovers. It didn’t even mean they had to be friends. All they had to do was not actively fight on the rare occasions both of them were in front of Gabriel together. Since that happened once in a blue moon, it shouldn’t be too hard. Except Asam, sex god incarnate, was sitting before her nursing a Scotch. He smelled like a brewery already. He must have had a long night and, by extension, an even longer morning.
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“Seriously, what in God’s name are you doing here?” “A guy can’t get a drink?” “A guy can’t stalk me.” “I’m not, that would imply a concerted effort, and I’m not famous for those,” he said. “Then there are hundreds of co*cktail lounges in Vegas, and you don’t need to be on my turf,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. She was only 5-foot-4 and unlikely to be intimidate him, but a girl could dream. She was already having an very sh*tty day, and it wasn’t even noon yet. “I was just around, mon amie,” he said.
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“I thought you were setting up that hotel and shopping complex back in AlMarasae?” He flashed a grin at her. “So you do care. You must have asked after me with Alana.” “Sometimes things come up in conversation. I know Faaid’s wife is expecting their third, and that your mom has foot surgery coming up. Don’t feel flattered.” He stood, towering over her. He easily had eight to nine inches on her. His smile widened, and he reached out to stroke her hair back from her face. “You should be flattered. I came here to see you. I’ve missed you, Kelly.” “Between dating that actress from The Avengers and your parade of models who make Giselle look like a heifer?”
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“None of them appeal to me like you do, mon amie.” “Well, as charming as you are even with dragon breath and circles under your eyes, I have a huge meal to plan for a demanding boss. So, I’m going have to take a rain check. In fact, maybe it’ll be for the rest of this century.” Asam surprised her by kissing her. He didn’t ask. His tongue tangled with hers, and she felt arousal flare through her warm and piercing. When he pulled back, his expression was pure smug self-satisfaction. “I think you’re more interested than you let on.” “Maybe you’ll learn to breathe underwater or invent nuclear fusion too. Those possibilities are about as likely.”
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His eyes flashed with a hint of the irritation. “You’d do well not to defy me, Kelly.” “Aww,” she said, heading toward the exit. “And here I thought that was what you liked best about me.” “You want me. Stop pretending you don’t.” “I want a lot of things, and you’re not even on top of the list, Asam,” she replied before scurrying out of his way. *** “So I balanced out the couscous with an eggplant and asparagus roasted medley. I feel the saffron and a hint of paprika add more to the dish to eliminate blandness or the potential for it. I have a similar concept I’m playing with for a tofu dish so we can
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have additional protein in it as well,” she said, trying to stay upbeat and honest when she put the dish before Monique. The mogul chewed thoughtfully and swallowed two to three bites, which might’ve been a record for Ms. Dawson. Kelly suspected she’d be on the treadmill an extra halfhour just to compensate. “It’s still a bit dry.” “I can work on that. Perhaps I could roast the eggplant and asparagus mixture instead of grilling it.” “Or maybe you’re not good at cooking anything that doesn’t require loads of butter and cream,” her boss said, pointedly. “Look I accept that someone who looks like Melissa McCarthy isn’t going to understand the need for a healthy, vegan lifestyle…” Kelly took a few deep breaths and reminded herself for the thousandth time that
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day that she needed this job, even if her boss was an insulting ass. Besides, she was only a size ten. Sure, that wasn’t tiny, but there was no need for her boss to insult her. Okay, maybe after the latest trip to AlMarasae and all the delicacies of the palace, she was more like a twelve, but still... Not that the double-zero mogul would know the difference. “I can retry my approach. It’s more challenging with vegan, but I know I can do this. I have a few colleagues back in New York that I’m planning to visit in order to get their input on their own approach to this. If I had a week or two to revamp and not six hours’ notice, I could create the healthy fusion menu you’re looking for.” “You have two weeks. Bring me twelve dishes and three desserts to be used as the new signature of Paradiso. I have to love
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them all, or I’ll find a real chef. Someone who doesn’t use cheese as their default ingredient.” Kelly clenched her jaw but nodded like a damn bobblehead. If she didn’t want to be unemployed and in jail, it was the only thing she could do to keep herself from decking her boss, even if Monique deserved it. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, barely waiting for Monique to leave before she told Tina and Elan that she’d be starting her two-week trip to New York today. Anything to get away from this humiliation. If her cheeks were a little wet as she rushed from the kitchen, those weren’t tears. She was too old for that, wasn’t she? ***
Chapter Four It might be a self-evident statement, but there were definite advantages to being rich. Even though he was too intoxicated to drive, he didn’t have to worry about it. The limo he’d rented at the airport was waiting for him at the side parking lot of the Paradiso. Despite logic, he’d stayed at the casino. His time hadn’t been spent only nursing co*cktails at the bar. He’d also gone to the high roller table for poker and lost several hands. If he had his inheritance for another six months, he planned on enjoying it. However, after seven hours of drinking and playing cards, he was shuffling off to his limo. The last person he expected to see was a tearful Kelly Kentworth. The sight of
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tears rolling down her cheeks stabbed into his heart. The last thing he wanted was for her to be upset. He’d been kicking himself since he’d first seen her pain at Alana and Dharr’s wedding. It burned that he’d hurt her so long ago and hadn’t been able to make amends, but seeing her so distraught now bit him even harder, like fangs digging into his flesh. Even though he had to be the last person she wanted to see, he couldn’t help but check on her to see if against all impossible odds that was something he could do to make her feel better. “Mon amie, what’s wrong?” She snorted and pushed aside a tangled strand of hair from her face. “Why do you care?”
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“I care,” he said, stroking her cheek and grateful she let him. He’d enjoyed stealing the kiss from her earlier. After all, he was a sheikh and a Hassem on top of that, damn it. He had a right to whatever he wished, but with Kelly, it really was true. A big part of the thrill with her was the chase and her fiery spirit. “You look upset. Is this about me?” “Don’t assume, Asam. After all, it makes an ass out of you and me.” “Then it’s not from this morning?” Kelly took a shuddering breath. “No, it’s not about you. My boss is someone the bitch from The Devil Wears Prada would look up to, and she’s decided to vegan-ize our menu. I only have a couple of weeks to research the right recipes, or she’s replacing me. In only five years, I built us up as the best Italian in Nevada. Let’s not even mention the way she talks to me. Sometimes it’s
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so hard being stared at and treated like dirt just because I’m a little heavier than some.” He snorted and kept stroking her cheek. Her soft skin was so supple under his fingers. “You’re gorgeous, Kelly, and you know it.” She stepped back from him, and he wanted to reach for her again. “Maybe not gorgeous enough. I don’t even know why I told you.” “Because you trust me.” “No, that’s not it. Maybe it’s because you’re the only one I have any ties to in town besides Jasper.” He clenched his hands into fists at the thought of this Jasper. After all this time, had he been replaced? Had she finally found
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someone? “Who’s Jasper?” he asked, trying and failing hard to sound calm. She smirked at him, the first expression she’d shown that wasn’t flat-out distress. “Oh he’s my rock—very reliable, sweet, greets me when I get home after a hard day.” “You live together?” he asked. Frustration was roiling in his gut. “Oh yes. dependable.”
He’s
so
strong
and
“So he’d be mad if I took you to a late dinner?” “Well, he’d be mad if I don’t bring him any takeout tuna. Jasper’s my cat. I’m a living cliché, I’m afraid.” Asam breathed a sigh of relief and hoped she didn’t notice. Kelly pursed her lips
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in response. He had to admit there was hardly anything that turned him on more. “So you were just playing with me. I will see you then, mon amie. You’re quite the sly minx, aren’t you?” “I’m a lot of things,” she said, hiccupping a little. He was glad she wasn’t actively crying anymore. “I have a waiting limo, my dear. Would you like to go to dinner? You pick. Anywhere and I’ll whisk you away.” “My own Prince Charming on call.” “You said it,” he purred. “Then you have some lofty expectations, my sheikh,” she said before bursting out laughing. “I’ll take you someplace with food I bet you haven’t had before, then we’ll just relax.”
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“Oh, I like that.” “I’m pretty sure it’s not what you think,” she said, shaking her head. “I need to vent about that monster I work for, but we’re not getting frisky. I haven’t abandoned all my standards.” “I think I can help you with that part.” *** Asam frowned down at his food. He enjoyed the plentiful mint juleps at Miss Carol’s Soul Food Shack. He’d eaten Southern American cuisine before, most notably down in New Orleans, but he’d assumed from that experience the food was spicy and often highlighted with sausage that he’d had to verify was substituted for the turkey version. He hadn’t expected to see a heaping plate of fried chicken with waffles. Now that was a new one.
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“Are you serious?” She grinned and sipped down her second mint julep of the night before asking the waitress for a shot of bourbon. “It’s a classic dish. You haven’t lived until you’ve mixed sweet maple-syrup soaked waffles with the richness of fried chicken. What? You’ve traveled all over and never had a little downhome cooking?” “I’ve had gumbo.” “That’s actually pretty specialized. Aw, I’m so hurt, Asam. I thought you were welltraveled.” “I am, but I don’t get why you’re supposed to mix breakfast food and fried fowl.” She grinned again and dug into her own plate. “Carol and I were a year or so apart at the culinary institute we attended in
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New York. We’re not exactly friends, but it’s always nice when a familiar face does well out in here in Vegas. This town can be tough and isolating. When anyone I know is around and offers a friendly smile, I call that a win. Besides, I’m just getting started. You haven’t lived until you’ve had her pecan pie for dessert with homemade whipped cream. I might be good, but what Carol can do with some shortening is a revelation.” “So you say,” he added, jabbing at his waffle. Maybe if he ate each of them one at a time, then the combination wouldn’t seem so odd. “I do. This is one of the best restaurants I’ve ever eaten at in my life, and I’ve been to a lot of places, always testing out what other chefs do. Seriously, my sheikh, you need to get a bite of waffle and white meat chicken on the same forkful. You’ve never had anything like it.”
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He arched an eyebrow back at her. “I can bet that, but I’m still not so sure.” “I’m definitely sure,” she said, preparing a fork for him that comprised of that exact, eclectic mixture. “Come on, you’ll do it for me. Humor a girl who’s had an utterly sh*tty and terrible day, won’t you?” “I am not sure I can be…” She shoved the fork into his mouth in mid-sentence. Annoyed, he chewed and, oddly enough, had to admit the sweet waffle and the flavorful, moist taste of chicken did work well together. At least he should admit when he was wrong. “But are you really that alone here?” “Sometime I work fourteen-hour days. It was one thing with Alana here. We were the dynamic duo in middle and high school. I was happy to reconnect with her after culinary school. But it’s one thing when you have a lifelong friend to hang out with
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you, and it’s something else entirely to make friends as an adult. Even if I did have the time, it’s not like I’m going to make buddies at yoga or a pottery painting class.” “Pottery class?” “No, you just paint the already made pieces. They fire the kiln for you so the colors stick. It’s a little different,” she said, winking back at him. She was already halfway through her bourbon, but he was far from one to judge considering his intake today. It loosened her up though, and this was the first real conversation they’d had since they first met. He’d never liked the posturing they did back and forth, especially all her cutting and bitter condescension. It was nice to be like this. If he had to get down on a prayer mat and thank hops and fermented grains for making this possible, then he certainly would.
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It was a nice change of pace. “I never get some of those preppy American hobbies. I figure if you have a craps table available or a bit of liquor, then you’re already having fun. Even going out to a club, get that blood pumping with some dancing.” She snorted. “So that’s what they’re calling it these days.” “Well, I never said spare the down and dirty on the floor. I’m far from straitlaced, mon amie, but the idea of just sitting around painting pottery is so dull that I can’t even imagine how awful it is. If you’re going to make time for yourself and have friends, you might as well do something worthwhile.” Kelly rolled her eyes. “I know your style, Asam, so do most of the tabloids in the Western world and the Middle East. Your
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idea of ‘worthwhile’ means you’re going to sleep through half the models at a fashion show.” “Maybe I’m not as into that as I used to be,” he added, gratified for just an instant when she stilled and regarded him with wide, hopeful eyes. They glittered like emeralds and haunted his dreams. Her eyes stirred something desperate within him. “Yes, you have a new and entrepreneurial side. I’m positive that doesn’t mean you’re a choirboy. Hell, you couldn’t be further from that, Asam.” “Maybe that’s true. But if I have a new passion and you have a boss driving you nuts… It just seems you’re deeply unhappy, and it’s more than the vegan decree or the loss of Alana in your day-to-day life. Do you care to share?” he asked, shoving another combo of chicken and waffle in his mouth.
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Now that she had him hooked on it, the combination was quite appealing. Maybe he could give Omar, the palace chef, this recipe. “See, I knew you’d like it,” she said, puffing up her chest. Kelly always had such gorgeous assets, an ample cleavage he could bury his face in for days if he got the chance. If only he hadn’t given in to his wandering eyes the day they’d first met... He had to focus. He might yet be able to bring home a bride up to his father’s stipulations. All Asam needed was to be there as a shoulder for her to cry on. Marriage edict or not, he’d have done that for her gladly. He’d rarely seen someone so broken up as Kelly in the parking lot just an hour ago. Asam waited for her to order yet another bourbon before trying to prod at her more. “Seriously, what do you really want? I
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can’t imagine why you’d want to stay here where you’re so lonely and cook a style of food I’m sure you could adapt to but have no passion for.” “I’d rather be picking out floor swatches for the tile patterns to lure in Gucci and Prada for your mini-mall.” “First, experience.”
it’s
a
luxury
shopping
“Uh-huh.” “Second, it’s a lot more interesting than going over troop arrangements or oil well mechanics. I think it’ll be fun, but that doesn’t answer my question. What do you really want in life?” She sighed and her shoulders hunched over. For all her bluster and her fiery tornado of a personality, Kelly was
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fairly small height-wise. She was a delicate woman who had been trampled on far too much lately, and Asam was only one of the guilty people in that lineup. “I’ve always wanted my own place. I love working with my staff, and I’m proud of the reputation I built with the Paradiso before Miss Dictator went all rabbit food, but there’s nothing in the world like having your own name on the marquee and being your own boss. I wouldn’t have to jump through hoops anymore or ever worry about things like a complete menu change with no notice. I could just be me.” “That sounds like a good ambition.” “Sure, of course!” she enthused, maybe a little too loudly, but both of them were pretty damn drunk by then. “But you need capital. My plans for going to New York are less about finding out good takes on
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vegan cuisine and more about putting feelers out there if any of my old culinary school friends need a sous-chef.” “A what?” he asked, frowning back at her, twitching his mustache just a little as he did. “A second in command. I’d take the demotion to be away from Monique’s temper and ever-changing line of bullsh*t.” He reached out and took her hands. “You should never settle for second best. Why not open a place of your own?” “I’ve done well enough, but not enough to end up with the kind of capital I’d need for the Big Apple. Even if I sold the apartment Alana and I used to share… No way. I’d never make it. The best I can do is see if anything’s available and learn to love tofu.”
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“I can’t help but feel that there has to be something else.” “Nope, nada. I’m lonely and screwed but not in the good way. Ooh! Unless,” she said, hiccupping again before breaking into a riot of giggles. “I could at least be screwed in the best possible way.” “Come again?” he asked, feeling his member harden and the strain it put on his trousers. Certainly after almost two years of hating him, Kelly wasn’t being serious. “Take me back to whichever fabulous penthouse suite you’re staying in tonight, Asam. I’m sick of being lonely, and I’ve never had a guy come all the way across a damn ocean for me. Even if this is the bourbon talking.” “And the liquor in the mint julep, that’s probably helping too.”
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She nodded; her gorgeous green eyes went almost impossibly wide. “I know it is. I’m not asking for a choir of angels or forever, Asam. I just want to feel less crappy for one night. You’re not sober or a saint either.” But I want you for more than just a night, and I don’t want to be someone you regret when you sober up. He didn’t say that out loud. He’d learned from his father that sheikhs didn’t speak their true feelings. After all, their will was law as it had been for thousands of years among their tribes. There was no need to express yourself when your subjects had to comply with your every command. Asam didn’t take it to that extreme, but he’d always hidden any doubts he might have behind sarcasm and his own bombastic presence.
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If this was the only chance he had with Kelly, he’d take it. If she came back to his place, he might be able to convince her further and explain his brilliant marriage plans. Screw it. If she were too resistant, he could always do as his older brother did and conscript her. It wasn’t his preference, but his father was forcing his hand, and he wanted no one but the fiery blonde next to him. The first step was spending more time with her. He stood and reached out his hand, grabbing her smaller one. “Come with me, mon amie, and you’ll see everything I can offer you.” *** “You know,” she said, pulling out one of chairs in the kitchen.
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The suite had a massive dining room with Chippendale furniture in it, items that looked like they were inspired colonial monstrosities—massive and covered in silk fabric on the seats. The kitchen was more humble with a small table and chairs. Kelly sat on one of those. No, sitting was too polite a word. She spun it around so she could straddle it suggestively. Asam loathed that she was wearing those puffy chef’s pants festooned with cartoon red peppers. Had she been wearing a skirt, then it would’ve been a party. As if she were reading his mind or, perhaps, his body language, she arched her back and let her hair fall farther down her back. “I did do one thing to try and get in better shape.” “You’re perfect as you are,” he said, licking his lips and shifting from foot to foot.
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Hopefully, she didn’t notice the massive erection he sported under his slacks, but actually, he hoped she did. He’d never made it a secret of how much he wanted her, and now as she toyed with him in the ultimate cat and mouse game, he wanted her even more. “You don’t need to change a thing.” “My boss implies I’m fat all the time.” “Your boss is a twat,” he said, circling the chair and reaching out to cup the sumptuous mounds of her rear. “You’re a vision. Trust me.” “You date models!” “But I’ve always appreciated those with a little extra curves for my comfort,” he whispered in her ear before he leaned closer to nibble at her neck. She shivered as he did it, her body shuddering under those gentle ministrations, and he decided to up the ante
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by running his beard scruff against the smooth skin of her throat. She shuddered again and started to grind her hips into the seat of the chair. His erection was so hard that it was difficult to think straight. Maybe that’s exactly what this minx of his had planned all along. If it was, she was more than welcome to her plots. He was one hundred percent supportive of them, after all. “It’s funny.” “How so?” he purred, continuing to caress her cheeks as she writhed for him. “Well, Alana said she’d taken up belly dancing and was even—and don’t tell Dharr since it’s a surprise for their anniversary—learning the Dance of the Seven Veils.”
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His length twitched under the Italian silk of his pants, and he instantly felt jealous of his older brother. What a thoughtful wife Dharr had, how kind of her to think of something that would make her husband so joyous for their anniversary. Maybe both friends were surprisingly daring under the surface and that was why Kelly and Alana hit it off in the first place. A man could dream. “And?” “And I was taking an exercise class in chair dancing. If you put on some music, I’d love to show you my pathetic, out-of-date moves.” He walked around to her front. If Kelly was offering to seduce him, who was he to complain? Pulling out his phone, he skimmed through his Pandora stations quick
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enough to select some vintage Britney Spears. It was far from his chosen style, but few singers fit the chair dancing aesthetic as well as the former Mousketeer. The booming bass filled the suite, dulled only by the phone’s small speakers. Then the singer started her usual deepvoiced moan. As this momentum started to build, Kelly stood up. He groaned at that. His own lust rushed through his veins even as he feared this might all be a come-on. His heart pounded in his chest, sending blood to harden his member as she began to circle the chair with a slow, sultry strut. With every step she took, Kelly sashayed her hips in invitation. His eyes focused on her rear, on the interplay of taut muscles and luscious curves working as she moved deliberately. Then she put one foot up quickly and in time with the music on the chair seat. There was a shout from Britney
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on the soundtrack, and Kelly arched her back, this time pushing up her breasts into the air, the pert mounds stretching against the fabric of her cotton T-shirt. He was glad she’d worn white today. It gave him a glimpse of her black bra underneath. She put her leg down again and stepped maybe a foot away from the chair. As the music continued to boom out, she bent low and slipped off her pants with a practiced flourish, revealing her pale, creamy legs underneath and matching ebony panties riding low on her hips. Kelly sauntered around the chair, letting him glimpse her rear through the slats of the chair. She shocked him by grabbing the chair’s high back and thrusting her hips against it, letting out a moan as she did. If it were possible to be jealous of an inanimate object, then Asam was. She thrust again and pushed the soft mounds of her breasts
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against the chair’s back as well. Kelly straddled the seat, arching her back and exposing the sweet expanse of her pale throat to the light. Asam took that as his cue and stepped forward, leaning down to kiss her throat. She shivered beneath him and mewled. He was so hard that it was almost criminal. He continued his ministrations, teasing her with the scruff of his beard, grazing it against the soft flesh there. Then he trailed his mouth to her lips and kissed her firmly, his lips and tongue tangling with her own, teasing and tantalizing her. His hands caressed lower, cupping the soft curves of her breasts. She moaned again, and he gently pulled on her shoulders. “Come, I have so much I want to do with you.”
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She snorted. “I’m drunk, but I’m not…not all the way. I’ll regret this tomorrow when the bourbon and mint juleps wear off.” “No, I was thinking of nothing more than pleasing you and giving you everything you deserve, mon amie.” Her gorgeous emerald eyes lit up like the neon strip of Vegas itself, and she sauntered to the bed before him. Asam relished the view of her pert ass as she wiggled it before sliding into bed. “I’ll need your panties off.” Kelly smirked back at him, and he loved that look daring him to go forward. She might not be up for everything tonight, and neither was he. However, she was game to play, and it had probably been too long for both of them. If Dharr’s words were true, Kelly was lonely of late and so was he. Asam
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might have had other women to explore, but they left him cold and wanting. The passion warmed him now, that blaze of lust, hadn’t burned brightly since the last time he had Kelly at his mercy. Kelly lifted her hips and slipped off her panties, tossing them to the floor. He licked his lips in anticipation at the sight of the soft curls at the apex of her thighs. They were as light as her hair, and it was an even bigger turn-on for him to realize she was a natural blonde. He’d always loved the look of Western women, that pale complexion, so like a china doll. Not that his spitfire was fragile or doll-like, but she was enticing. Leaning down, he inhaled her scent—smooth and alluring, like cinnamon and her own aroma. With his fingers, he pushed her most sensitive lips apart and stuck out his tongue, slowly tasting her pleasure nub. She shuddered and cried out
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his name followed by a quick curse. It encouraged him to continue. He slid his finger inside her, while his tongue flicked quickly over her cl*t. She screamed and arched her back as he continued his pleasuring her. Her sweet dew seeped from her core, and it was all encouragement—her shuddering body, her wetness, and her desperate cries. All of it was a sign of how much he could affect her, of the heights he could send her to. She climaxed with a scream and her hips bucked. “Asam, oh my God!” She reached her hand out to him. He grinned as he pulled away, then went to the suite’s bathroom to wipe off his mouth and beard. As he strode back in, his smile widened. Leaning against the doorframe, Asam regarded his goddess, taking in the way she panted and how it left her breasts bobbing up and down before him.
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She was everything he’d ever wanted, and he was so damn sorry he’d wandered off with that dancer and set them back for two years. He was even sorrier that once she couldn’t blame everything on alcohol, Kelly would run again. That was the last thing he wanted. Hell, it was why even above his father’s edicts he’d come to America again. He needed her, and he would have her. “What?” she said when she finally seemed capable of rational thought. “What’s going on?” “Why do you ask?” “I feel something.”
like
you’re
scheming
He chuckled and slipped into bed with her. “Only how I’m going to ravish you next.”
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***
Chapter Five Kelly blinked awake with what felt like a wild animal trying to claw its way out of her head. Her mouth was dry and tasted like the floor of a taxicab. The light streaming through the window just made her headache worse. Rolling over onto her side, she grabbed a pillow and thought of suffocating herself with it. At least it would work faster than Excedrin. “Ugh, I drank way too much last night,” she groaned, confused when her voice echoed throughout the room. That was odd. She had a comfortable apartment, a place she loved, actually, but it wasn’t large enough to breed echoes. Confused, she sat
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up quickly in bed and groaned when the whiplash involved worsened her already raging migraine. The room before her was large, luxurious, and decorated with the finest marble and other embellishments. Wait. Was she in the Bellagio? Snaking her head around, she noticed the kitchen table before her and the arrangement of fruits, deli meats, and even omelets and pastries. It was a smorgasbord fit for a king…or a sheikh. Oh God, I thought that was a dream last night. Did I really get drunk with Asam? She looked down at herself and realized she was completely naked under the sheets. Parts of last night came back, although not everything, just flashes—the drinking at Miss Carol’s, the chair dance, and even the amazing feel of his tongue on her
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most hidden regions. There were other things on her mind too, and she felt like they’d eventually gotten dressed and gone back out after some fun, but that part was fuzzier. Sighing, she climbed out of bed and started looking for her clothes. The first thing she saw was a slinky gold sequined dress on the floor. There was no way her night had gotten extra wild, but then she dismissed that most outlandish of thoughts when she looked at the tag and realized it was in her size. The hell? When did I get dressed up and why? Then she looked down at her left hand and froze in disbelief. There was a massive gold wedding ring with an even bigger, more impressive diamond engagement ring. Eat your heart out, J. Lo.
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“What the hell did I do?” “We both had quite the time,” Asam said, stepping back into the room. “I’m sorry. I left breakfast for you, but I just got back from running an errand.” “What kind? What the f*ck is going on?” she demanded, rounding on him and trying to ignore the momentary flash of hurt in his hazel eyes. “Did you do something to me?” Asam held up his own left hand on which a man’s wedding ring gleamed. “We did this to each other. Miss Carol’s mixed drinks and the best shots that the Blue Suede Casino had to offer early this morning helped with that.” “With what?”
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He shrugged and handed her a stack of papers. “We got married last night. So congratulations to you, Sheikha Hassem.” She slapped him across the cheek, and he recoiled with the motion. It was a terrible idea on her part. Before she could move again, he grabbed both her wrists tightly in his hands. Asam glared down at her, his nostrils flaring wide. “If I were you, I would not strike me again, mon amie. Some actions are foolish even for newly minted royalty.” Her heart raced, thudding hard before his strong gaze. Most of her trusted Asam. He could be a conceited ass and a womanizer, but he lacked the bitter and dangerous edge of his elderly father. There was no reason to think he would strike her, despite the ancient customs of Al-Marasae.
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The Hassem brothers had worked to modernize so much, and yet he was restraining her. She wasn’t sure if he could keep a clamp tightly enough on his emotions not to go further. It was intoxicating in a weird way, even in her panic. It was like having a tiger by the tail, some beautiful, powerful being who was all hers…if she wanted him. That time had already passed. Now he’d gotten her drunk and married her. She was furious over this. No matter how much the tingle between her legs and the heat flaring through her stomach told her otherwise. “Did you do this on purpose?” “No more than you did. I guess I don’t handle my sixth shot of tequila while gambling as well as I thought. I am asking for the security feeds soon because it’s all fuzzy. Of course, it can be annulled.”
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“Well then, let’s get over to whatever court we need to and do that. We can Britney Spears this and be unmarried in less than twelve hours.” Asam dropped her wrists, and she tried not to mourn the loss of contact. Come on, Kelly, focus. Don’t let him give you the puppy dog eyes! Even if seeing Asam offended did wound her, it wasn’t a reason to stay married. Sure, he’d been able to lead her to an org*sm that had blown her mind, but that didn’t make up for his untrustworthy nature or the way he’d torn into her before. Besides, she had to save her job at Paradiso. The last thing she had time for was trying to make the best of a crazy Vegas wedding. “We don’t have to fix this.”
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“I think we do. This isn’t at all what either of us wants. After all, isn’t there a supermodel or a fire-eater or some dancer you should be dating?” His nostrils flared again and he shook his head. “I am sorry for what happened at Dharr’s engagement party, but maybe this is another chance. We had fun last night, at least what I can remember. You can’t deny that.” She shuddered and took in a deep breath. It was getting even harder to speak, to think. A huge part of her had obsessed and longed for Asam for almost two years. Every time she’d visited Alana in Al-Marasae, it had bitten into her, not just petty jealousy of her best friend’s happiness and stability but having to be near Asam and his whole family. Every time she’d catch him in the palace halls, every fight they’d had at the few holidays she’d been there, every single time had
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twisted her heart more and fanned the flames of her desire. “There is something,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I can’t deny that. I do feel it, but I have to be in New York and you’ve hurt me before and—” She let out a sharp breath when he stroked her cheek. “Why did you do that?” “Because I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, gesturing to the rings as if she’d been confused on that point. “But now that is has, we have to be responsible, get this over with, and move on with our lives!” “Why?” She frowned and backed away from him. “Are you serious? I have a plane to catch tonight to NYC to talk with my culinary
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friends. If that wasn’t enough, I have less than two weeks to please my boss. I have to make sure I have something left to my name, and if learning about vegan food is what I have to do, then that’s it. I don’t have time to be married, and I’m sure you have a lot of prep with the Oasis project. I’ve heard enough from Alana to know it must be massive.” “You don’t want to cook vegan food, and I just went over specs with Dharr two days ago. We’re running well on schedule. What you want is to cook for yourself. You said as much before, and even if I hadn’t tasted the dishes you’ve made for the family before...well, Alana rambles on about how amazing you are. You’d hate being a vegan chef and you know it.” “But my paycheck comes from Paradiso, so whatever Monique Dawson wants, she’ll get. After all, I don’t have any
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guarantees. If I leave her, I could be done. She can more than work to blacklist me in the middle of a hissy fit. It’s not as if I haven’t seen her do it to other staff, even the damn lounge acts and dancers. I need this job.” “Then start a restaurant of your own, mon amie,” he said, grinning back at her. Some of the frustration seemed to drain from the depth of his hazel eyes. “Yes, of course, I’ll just start a New York eatery with no capital. Why didn’t I think of that?” she huffed. “I have money.” She frowned back at him. “If you think you can buy me like some who…” “No,” he said calmly, holding up his hands before her. “Just an experiment. You
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try being married to me for a week. I’ll take you to a great vacation, and let you know how great being a sheikha can be. If you still hate it, fine. You walk, and I’ll give you ten million for your trouble.” Her eyes were wide. That made no sense. Had he started speaking in another language? Had she blacked out? Hell, was this all a dream spurred on from too much drinking over her crappy boss? Maybe she wasn’t even here. Why would he want to impress her so much? He’d already run out on her before. How could anyone think she was ten million dollars for a week? She’d never felt like that before. While she’d dated before and had a few close boyfriends over the years, she’d been so career focused that it was what she’d clung to more. Besides, even with the flirting and fun, she
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was never the woman a man kept around. She was curvy and far plainer than Alana, who everyone had always adored with her turquoise eyes and flowing brown hair. How could he feel this way? But hadn’t she told Alana to enjoy the fun and give Dharr a chance before? Look at how happy that made her friend. Maybe she could take her own advice. At least for a week, if she could bury the resentment in her heart, then she could have fun and with a gorgeous guy to boot. “So if I take off with you for a week, you’ll give me ten million to start my own restaurant? No strings attached?” “It’s not quite like that.” “Oh.”
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“No,” he continued, starting to pace. “If you don’t want to stay, then take the money. At least it’ll make you happy, and we’ll annul everything. I’ll call our best lawyer on it. But you have to be honest. If you want to stay, don’t just run. Don’t be as dumb as I was.” “I…” “Give it a week, search your heart, and we’ll go from there. Can you agree to that? Wouldn’t a week with me in an exotic locale being a sheikha be better than a New York trip? Even if you leave and want it all over with, you will still have a week to do your research. So, what do you say, mon amie, won’t it be worth it?” But you might hurt me more. It’s not like we’ve had such great encounters before.
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She didn’t say that aloud. She didn’t know how. It felt that if she voiced those words, she’d collapse on the floor before him and maybe shatter like china. The best thing she could do was never admit to weaknesses, and one of her biggest was one Sheikh Asam Hassem. “You have a deal...so what’s next?” *** “Wait?” she said, as he poured her a glass of Perrier and handed her another aspirin. She wasn’t going to drink again for a long time. She just felt too shaky and off-kilter to eat or drink anything that wasn’t a nice glass of water. She needed her wits about her. Asam knocked her off balance enough to begin with. “So I’m confused. Where are we going again?”
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“Abu Dhabi. It’s the capital of the United Arab Emirates and one of the great jewels of the Middle East. I know you’re already familiar with the palace and Marasimaq, but I thought something completely new would be better,” he added, stroking his beard and picking up a bottle for himself. “So you think if you wine and dine me, my husband,” she said, stretching out the word playfully. “You think then I’ll stay.” He shook his head and set the bottle down. “No, I think you’re one hell of a woman who deserves to be treated like the royalty you are. I messed up big-time, and I have one shot to make it up to you. I am more than eager to do so.” That was a sweet thought if maybe a little too late. Kelly wasn’t even sure what could truly make the hurt better. To be fair, she’d added salt to her own wounds and his
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over the years, sniping back and forth with him, but this was just so much. “I’m hardly Cinderella,” she said, deciding to keep her tone playful. All she had to do was treat this like any other date. Since humor was her chief defense mechanism, the joke just rolled off her tongue. He reached out and brushed her hair back from her face. “I’d call you Rapunzel before I called you anything else,” he conceded. “Besides, I don’t want you to be a Disney princess.” “Oh, so you had something else in mind?” she asked, quirking her lips at him. There was something so devilish in Asam’s smile that she couldn’t help but stare more closely. He emphasized his point by
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licking his lips, and it made her think of what his mouth had done to her last night, feeling of that skillful tongue as he drove his fingers deep inside her and the sweet tickling of his neatly trimmed beard. He was a breathtaking man, built like a lean runner or soccer player. But that hint of gold in his eyes, the mischievous promise of pleasure and so much more made her want to do whatever he was offering, or at least try. At worst, she’d have ten million dollars and a whopping story for the rest of her life. If her heart broke during the shenanigans, then at least she’d have enough money to cobble it back together. “Well,” he said, standing up and slipping off his blazer. “I was thinking of starting with a bit of fun. Have you ever had the pleasure of joining the Mile High Club?”
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She blushed and bit her lower lip, channeling her inner coquette. “Everyone’s heard of it, but I never had an offer. Besides, trying to jam myself into some gross and tiny bathroom on an American Airlines jet would be the absolute worst thing in the world.” “Then you’re fortunate we have a jet. The pilots have a soundproof cabin.” “I assume a necessity for any sheikh on the go.” “Or any other billionaire playboy I assure you,” Asam said, beginning to unbutton his shirt. She grinned and stood, deciding if she had promised to try her hardest for a week and be as open as possible, then she needed to follow through. Reaching down, she slipped off her shirt and fumbled with the buttons of her jeans. “I’ll only go so far. I
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don’t…”Kelly said, trailing off, blushing. “Let’s see how the week goes. But what did you have in mind?” “I want to feel you again, but I’ll do whatever you want, mon amie.” She grinned and slipped completely out of her clothes, standing there before him in all her glory. With some men, she was aware of how limited her appeal could be. She felt her thighs were too big and her hips too wide. She had some extra around her middle, and while she was a curvy ten—maybe a twelve on bad days—Kelly rarely felt beautiful. The way a now shirtless Asam regarded her made her feel highly desirable. Hell, the intensity of his gaze made her feel as if she were a preydangling before him and that he was still her raging tiger, ready to pounce forth and claim her.
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Heat warmed her stomach and wetness began to pool between her legs. How could Asam have this kind of effect on her? How could he be so utterly delicious and the one man she wanted to ravish on sight, no questions asked? It wasn’t even a sheikh thing. She felt no need to be near Dharr or Faaid, married or not. But with Asam, it was as if she were a satellite and gravity pulled her closer to him. “I’m yours, my sheikh, and you can do anything you want with me,” she said, running one finger over her chest, bringing her index finger down to stroke her nipple and tease it into a firm, hard bud. She licked her lips and bit her lower one again, staring at Asam through her heavy-lidded eyes. “What will you do to me?” “Everything,” he breathed, stalking forward like a wild jungle cat ready to tackle his prey.
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Every motion was a fluid masterpiece, purely silky and graceful. His body was quite a sight to behold as well—lean muscle gave way to ripped abs so compact and tight the average Hollywood hunk would be desperate for them. A small trail of hair dipped from his belly button under the button of his slacks, promising her so many things to come. He was perfection incarnate and, at least for this week, he was hers to do with as she wished. Asam was there then, cupping her breast with his left hand and reaching down to stroke her stomach. His fingers trailed over the expanse of her abdomen, reaching down playfully into her belly button as they passed over her. Soon they were working their way through her pubic hair even as his mouth found her perky right nipple. His tongue flicked out over the hardened peak, and it felt like sparks flying across her body, radiating up from her sensitized nipple.
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Kelly moaned and spread her legs, encouraging his access even further. His fingers found their way to her hidden lips. Asam stopped there, letting his forefinger and thumb stroke over the sensitive flesh there. She licked her lips and arched her neck back, the mewling noises already rising from her throat. She needed him, had always needed him, and she could allow herself to enjoy this. To enjoy her husband—however they’d come to be like that—for the week she had. “Please, Asam, I need more!” He wrapped his eager lips around her pink nipple and suckled there. Kelly felt everything then—her heart hammering in her chest, the way the hair of his beard prickled her skin, and even the plane’s bumps and dips.
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Unlike sex on the ground, there was an off-kilter craziness to this. The pilots weren’t bad or erratic. However, the jet reacted to the turbulent air around them. It took balance and work to keep herself on her feet. Not that Asam wouldn’t catch her. Of course, he would. Emotionally, it was so hard to trust him, even for this week. But when it came to his physical strength and his chivalry, she had every bit of faith in the world that he’d never let her fall. His fingers reached continued their search, no longer content just to stroke her. He thrust two larger fingers deeply inside of her, and his thumb firmly pressed against her most sensitive spot. Asam rubbed her in circles there. She fought her instinct to clamp her thighs around him, and almost failed as he flicked his tongue over her nipple.
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Sparks exploded behind her closed eyelids, and she had to slam her mouth shut to avoid screaming his name. Maybe the co*ckpit was soundproofed, but Kelly didn’t want to test that theory. She’d be mortified if the captain or co-pilot knew what they were doing. She was a good girl, after all. Hell, she’d never been this daring. That was for damn sure. Maybe that was the old Kelly. This Kelly—who was Sheikha Hassem for a week—she could do anything she wanted. Asam picked up his pace, and her legs almost gave out from under her as her knees turned to jelly under his ministrations. His fingers filled her core with a heat she couldn’t have anticipated all while his tongue traced patterns over her tender skin. The heat that flared in her stomach earlier was now going nova all around her, and Kelly
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saw a universe of colors and patterns exploding and reshaping behind her eyelids. It was all quite the trip, but nothing compared to when she came. The shock of energy ripped through her, her knees finally collapsed. She felt herself being pulled back up and cradled in strong arms. In Asam’s arms. He leaned down and kissed her cheeks and her lips. His tongue tasted of peanuts from the flight but also of him and the pleasure he offered her. The musk of his cologne and the scent of saffron caressed her nose. Satiated and feeling light as a feather, she looked back at him and grinned. “That’s definitely the best flight I’ve ever had.” “I’m glad. We can do whatever you wish. There’s a shower—for one, I’m afraid—and a bed in back. If you need to
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clean and rest before we arrive in the UAE, I’d more than understand.” “I think I should,” she said, frowning at how desperately she needed some water. “After all of this, you’ll show me Abu Dhabi? Show me what a ‘jewel of the Middle East’ is supposed to look like?” “Mon amie, that’s the biggest promise I’ve ever made, and nothing could keep me from delivering on it.” ***
Chapter Six “I don’t understand. Are you sure you even want this?” he asked, frowning back at the purchase Kelly had shoved into his hands. She wasn’t perturbed or stopped at all by his reticence. She knew it was a quirky request. After going to the hotel and a first evening spent luxuriating in one another other’s arms, she’d shaken off the jet lag and her hangover and was now ready to see the sights. They’d started with the Women’s Market. It wasn’t what she’d expected. In her head, she had this image of a long stretch of makeshift stalls with women setting their blankets or tarps up directly in the swirling sands of the desert.
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It was nothing like that. The market was a permanent installation with tiled walkways, trees, and other foliage planted all around. Each stand had a permanent awning. They also had gleaming white poles reaching to an overhanging roof, decorated with cut wood and gold shapes above. Open enough to feel the breeze, but still protected by a roof and tile. The place was a flash of modernity and grace interwoven with the chills and thrills of open-air shopping. She loved it. There were various handcrafts—handmade silk slippers, beautiful rugs of varying geometric patterns that one could watch being woven, and of course, gorgeous shawls and other coverings. What she’d fallen in love with as she sat beside one of the weavers, watching the woman’s deft hands
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move faster than Kelly would have thought humanly possible was...well…both eccentric and probably underwhelming. She wasn’t earning cool chick of mystery street cred, and she knew it. “Really?” Asam asked as he stared down at the object, passing it back and forth between his hands. “I’ve come to show you the wonders of the Middle East, everything that you could want at your grasp. There are some of the finest silks in the world here, some of the most beautiful shawls, and even outfits for beneath one’s robes. I show you all of this, and you want a camel?” Grinning, she surged to her feet. “He’s not just any camel! His name is Carl, and he’s great.” “Now you’re just putting me on, my sheikha,” he quipped.
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Kelly chuckled and gestured to the small model, one carved expertly from wood and adorned with its own miniature, handwoven blanket in a rainbow of riotous stripes. The tiny load he carried on his back, with its white tassels and soft feathers, was too adorable to believe. It would be a perfect addition to her apartment back home, assuming poor Jasper didn’t shred it first. Cats tended to get into everything, like wrecking balls with claws and feet. “I love it. I’ve never gotten anything gaudy and touristy back in Al-Marasae. I’d be too embarrassed to get something so crazy in front of Alana.” “But for me, then more camels.” “He’s so cute, and I have the perfect spot for him on my mantel.”
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“Why does an apartment in the desert even need a fireplace?” “It’s for the effect. It’s romantic, isn’t it?” she asked, then gave a small squeal as he handed the coins over to the small woman before them. “See?” She threw her arms around his neck. “Was it really so hard? Besides, isn’t Carl the best?” “He’s an acquired taste. I was hoping to tempt you with jewelry and finery befitting my queen.” “You’re not the heir who rules,” she replied, slipping her arm around his elbow. “Besides, I’m quirkier than you’d think.” “I saw your pepper pants for work. A whole circus of clowns could wear them.” “They’re chef pants,” she griped, bringing a hand to her chest in mock horror.
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“We are allowed to be decorative and have some flair.” “Sure,” he said drolly, even as he carried little Carl under his arm. She narrowed her eyes at him, hoping Asam knew that humming organ grinder music would be a massive mistake and might cost him an eye. “Very P.T. Barnum, I loved it.” “Well,” Kelly said, eyeing the colorful array of spices set out before them. “I have the distinct advantage of making anything sexy.” He kissed her lips, and she loved the way his tongue expertly stroked her own. “I wholeheartedly agree with that assessment, my sheikha.” *** “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
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“You’ve been to mosque before,” he pointed out. “Yes, the grand one in Marasimaq is a sight to behold. I’m not saying it isn’t.” Asam grinned back at her. “Yes, the wonders of my home city must always trump those of the other cities around me. Of course, mon amie, I know exactly how you feel. The first time I ever saw it, I think my jaw hit the floor. There’s a very good reason Sheikh Zayed’s Grand Mosque is called ‘The Pearl of Abu Dhabi.’ There are few wonders of the world more exquisite.” “That’s not even the half of it,” she said, spinning around in the great expanse of the main plaza before the mosque’s entrance. The sapphire sky above her was vibrant, contrasting gorgeously with the huge ivory turrets, ones that reached high into the
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air and ended in brilliant gleaming gold poles. The mosque itself was a huge series of alabaster cupolas, standing high and vibrant against the plaza below. It was almost as overwhelming as pictures of the Taj Mahal, and Kelly felt dwarfed standing before it. Perhaps the most eyecatching part of the holy place’s plaza and garden was the white marble beneath her feet, which was adorned with sweeping green vines and vibrant yellow and crimson blossoms. She pulled the long, black veil over her face, deciding it was best to be deferential to the customs within the mosque. Beside her, Asam wore traditional flowing white robes for entering the holy place. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling Kelly close to his side as they passed under the large keyhole-shaped arches. The towering structures rose above them to maybe fifteen
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or twenty feet. Their tops were covered in layered gold leaf. She grinned as she stepped deeper into the heart of the mosque. The carpet beneath her was richly woven with a multipointed star in red and gold at her feet. It had so many interconnected points that it looked more like an octagon or some other polygon. Everything was intricate and exquisite, from the lovely golden script on the white walls to the huge chandelier overhead made of twisted bronze like snakes curling together with red and green blown glass balls hanging beneath that. Unlike the church she’d abandoned in her youth, this house of worship was one of the most creatively designed and breathtaking places she’d ever seen. It was truly lovely, and she grinned up at Asam as they both took it all in.
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“This is like something out of a fairy tale, even. Yours back home is lovely, but this is like a dream or a legend come to life.” “Yes, it is. Perhaps Al-Marasae shouldn’t fall behind. Should I suggest to father that we need a Sheikh Azhaar Hassem mosque in Marasimaq? Perhaps we need to keep up with the Joneses?” he asked, arching his eyebrow with devilish aplomb and causing her to laugh riotously. A few of the older worshippers in the mosque looked at both of them, and she sobered up. The last thing she wanted to do was appear to be a typical American in the middle of all of this. The large bell rang out throughout the main hall, and the Imam stepped forward to call to prayer. To show her respect, she got quietly to her knees and bowed her head low. In turn, she watched as Asam prostrated
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himself, honoring the customs of his people. Today, in this one moment, she felt joined with him. It was more about feeling the weight of his culture and his heritage and his trust that he wanted to share this special place with her. It wasn’t attending a ceremony for Gabriel or something more formal. No. This was Asam letting her more deeply into his life. For that, Kelly was deeply grateful. She kept her head bent and marveled at the fact that for six more days, he was hers. *** Kelly leaned back on the blue silk pillows beneath her. The soothing sound of the waves, almost black in the evening echoed around both of them. The beach around Yas Island was alluring, and it looked like the bluest water during the day, like something you’d see in the Caribbean.
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The to-die-for infinity pool wasn’t near this corner of the beach. They were away from the rest of the beachgoers and somewhere not far from their own private villa at the island’s hotel. Behind her, she could a glimpse of the flashing bright pink neon from the hotel’s signs. It made the whole island light up, like some glowing flamingo, but it was exhilarating to be in a place lit up like a festive, Floridian Christmas tree. She grinned back at her husband for the rest of the week. They were on day four, and it had been amazing so far. She remembered the trust and desire she’d first felt for him at that bachelor party long ago. But also she felt bonded from the way they’d explored one another’s bodies, from his very power to bring her screaming with pleasure. This man had kept his word, and had been kind and considerate to her. It was
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probably an ephemeral fantasy and a hopeless ploy, but she felt like every inch the princess he’d promised her she’d be. It continued as he placed the flatbreads, hummus, and dates before her as well as a heaping dish filled with meat so well-seasoned and delectable that she found herself drooling in eager anticipation. “What is that?” she asked. “It’s called Al Machboos, and it’s a delicacy here in the UAE.” “God, it smells amazing!” She took a mix of the rice, roasted eggplant, and the lamb on her plate, then put a forkful in her mouth. The flavors hit her tongue instantly. Sage and turmeric mixed with a hint of more spices and the rich broth of the tender lamb. She moaned almost obscenely and swallowed the mix. “So it’s only in the Emirates?
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Is that the only reason I haven’t had this before? If Alana was holding something this good out on me, I might have to kill her.” “It’s most certainly only a delicacy here. We rarely cook it in Al-Marasae. And you’d be a new, single mother with Gabriel to care for.” She laughed and shoved a date in her mouth. “Yes, but you’d be a ready and willing godfather for the little guy, so how bad could that be?” “That’s blissfully domestic. I have to say I approve,” he replied, starting in on his own hunk of lamb. “Maybe we’d have to work on a brood of our own if you want to stay Sheikha Hassem after Friday that is.” Sighing, she frowned at him. “I have two more days to think it over. I know what feels good now. Mostly, I feel for the first
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time in a while that things are finally working out for me. I’ve struggled so long dealing with Monique being a harsh witch and trying to live up to her demands. The thought of having a chance to own a restaurant… It’s more amazing than I could ever say. Terrifying too.” “Hmm,” he said then sipped his water. “How do you figure?” “When your name is the one plastered on the side of the building, then everyone knows. It’s one thing to be written up in culinary magazines and reviewed for magazines when I don’t own the place. People don’t know who the chef is at a place that says Paradiso on the marquee. But you have people come to Kelly’s Place or have my name prominently on everything, then it’s all on me. If I f*ck up, no one will ever cook with me or hire me again.”
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“I don’t think that’s true,” he said, reaching out and stroking his beard. “Even if you set up shop in New York and failed, it could be because the competition of the city is huge. There always has to be a second chance.” Suddenly tired, she pushed her plate away and ran her fingers over her rings. “Do you mean that for everyone? Is that what this all is? A second chance?” “It’s fate. I give you that,” he said, grinning back at her. “I think whatever you do, you’ll be amazing at it. You have been so far.” “Does that apply to you and Oasis? Alana has been keeping me posted on it. The sheer scope of the resort and shopping center, all those boutiques and designers coming in? It’s amazing. You really are trying to put
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a place like here at Yas or all of Dubai to shame.” Asam shrugged. “I wish Father felt that way. It’s bizarre, and I don’t understand it. He has Faaid to run the nation after he dies and Dharr to make sure Hassem Petroleum remains on top. I’m doing this project to prove I’m serious, and he’s mostly been fighting me on it. He wants to show that AlMarasae has strength in military and industry. I think he finds the excesses of Saudi Arabia or here in the UAE too much. He’s so traditional,” he said, throwing his hands up in disgust. “I do know what it’s like to be afraid to fail. I have failed my whole life as far as the great Sheikh Azhaar is concerned. If Oasis doesn’t survive, he’ll probably conscript me to do hard work with our military.” Kelly gasped, her eyes widening. “You can’t possibly be serious!”
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“Well, not front line, but Dharr had to talk Father into this to begin with. It’s a compromise project so that the Hassem family screw-up could do something that Father would deem at least acceptable.” “I think your dad is an ass,” she said, her voice building. “First, he puts all that pressure on Dharr, then he almost chases Alana off and leaves her a wreck. Now, he’s married off the others and made them ‘respectable enough,’ and he’s breathing down your neck. It’s horrible. He’s supposed to be a father, not an overlord.” “You don’t know much about AlMarasae. I’m glad Faaid and Dharr are more like me. I’d hate to think of any of my nephews and nieces suffering like that, feeling that pressure. But it’s what Azhaar wants, and what Father wants, he gets.”
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“Maybe you don’t need him at all,” she said, stroking his cheek and feeling the scratchiness of his stubble against her palm. “If I did come back, and I’m not sure yet that I will...” “But?” he asked, his eyes lighting up like stars. “That’s a maybe at least. You’re running the traps, and I like that.” “Perhaps,” she said, grinning back at him. “Alana can practice law. Do you have a restaurant at Oasis? Do you need a talented, award-winning chef to fill that kitchen?” He nodded and reached back to stroke the curve of her neck. Kelly shivered at the intimacy of the embrace. “I could use the finest chef I’ve ever eaten with.” “You’ve only had a few of my dishes.”
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“But I know I like what I’ve tasted. Hell, we can even get you the recipe for the Al Machboos. It can be the new signature dish of Al-Marasae, if you like.” “A national edict for little old me?” she said, blushing. “I think I’d like that.” “Well, your people—should you choose to accept them—would do anything to please their sheikha.” She grinned more widely and pushed the rest of the food plates far to the side, leaving the expanse of their woven mat and fluffy pillows free from clutter. She had far better ideas for what they could do, and for right now, lamb and dates had nothing to do with it. Stretching herself out in front of him, Kelly slipped off her kaftan, letting the lilac silk fabric fall to the sand beside her. There
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was already ample access to the rest of her. Tonight, she felt ready to have him take her completely, and Kelly had been planned ahead, crafting her seductive moves. She licked the tip of her fingers and rubbed her right nipple, drawing it into a hard peak. With her other hand, she played with her curls, feeling the soft hair beneath her grip. “Do you see anything you like, my sheikh?” Asam licked his lips and unzipped his jeans. He’d been wearing something casual and typically American on the beach. Her only complaint was he hadn’t taken off his Tshirt yet. That would never do. If she had any legal power as sheikha, Kelly was definitely going to make a rule that men with eightpacks as amazing as Asam’s were never allowed to wear shirts.
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Hell, she was considering banning clothes for him altogether, but that might get complicated. It might be hard for him to be the CEO and manager of Oasis with everything hanging out in the breeze. She bet some of the female and male clientele both would appreciate the new law of Al-Marasae. She sure would! “No,” she said, shaking her head. He stilled and frowned back at her. His tone was even when he replied but quiet, “What?” Kelly groaned, realizing she’d accidentally sent the biggest of all mixed signals. “No, I’m totally ready.” She giggled and tossed her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. Looking lower, she could see Asam’s length already springing free and
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eager from his jeans. “I think I’m not the only one up for it.” He laughed, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I’m more than ready for that.” “I think you should get some skin in the game, Asam,” she said, her smile widening ever further when she saw those washboard abs of his. He knelt down before her, and she leaned forward, climbing to her knees so she could trace her tongue over the ripples and muscles of his abdomen. Drops of sweat slid down his body in the heat on the beach. Her tongue traced over each bump and valley on his stomach, and she relished the salty tang of him on her taste buds. Dear God, what perfection he is.
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He shuddered under her efforts and shouted out her name. “Kelly! Mon amie, you’re amazing!” “You say that so much,” she said, pulling back and letting her hand roam down to stroke his length. She smirked as his member twitched in response to her delicate touch. “Mon amie. Did you learn French?” “I went to college at Princeton, but I did a year abroad at in Paris. My mother was from Algiers originally, so she spoke French fluently. It used to be a French colony.” “It’s so lovely when it slides off your tongue,” she said, staring up at him like a supplicant worshipping their god. “Everything about you is amazing.” “Not when I run off on you.”
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“It’s forgiven. You didn’t have any obligations to me after one night at a party, and I’m the one who has given the cold shoulder ever since. I’m so glad we ended up drinking way too many mint juleps.” He chuckled as she leaned back on the pillows. “You shouldn’t forget the shots, mon amie. I’m pretty sure those helped too.” “It’s like a miracle.” “Or just fermentation,” he said, chuckling again. His voice was smooth and inviting. “Maybe, but I’m so glad it all happened,” Kelly replied. “Now, please, Asam. I need you now—all of you.” There was nothing left to say. After all this reconnecting, all they truly needed was to be joined in the most intimate way
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possible. He slid his thick member into her slick core. She moaned at the feeling of his girth stretching her so intimately. “That feels so good,” she said, closing her eyes and surrendering to the sensations. The sound of the waves crashed through the cool night air. The breeze tickled her skin and pebbled her nipples even further. He positioned himself on top of her, and she could smell the musk of him mixed with saffron tickling her nostrils. Asam began to move his hips in earnest, thrusting inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and drove her hips upwards, trying to feel him as deeply inside her as possible. Heat built between them, like having poured gasoline on a roaring bonfire. The harder he thrust, the more he began to strike
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against her G-spot. Her vision swam, and she was panting hard, feeling her muscles relax and tighten. Sparks were arcing again behind her eyes, and she felt as if her whole body was consumed by passion growing between them. Asam came first, throwing back his head and shooting his seed deep inside her womb. He shouted her name as well as a terse litany of Arabic as pleasure coursed through him. It didn’t take long for her to follow, falling over the edge into utter ecstasy as they writhed together in flames of desire. He pulled out of her eventually and cradled her to his chest, tossing the blanket over both of them. They would be able to walk back to their villa soon enough, but for now, Kelly felt as if she’d run a marathon. There was no way she could do more than rest and focus on taking in gulps of air.
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“That was…” “…yeah,” she finished. She was glad it wasn’t just her feeling this way. Reaching down, she grabbed his hand with her own, smiling at how their rings covered one another. It was like they belonged. No, it’s more than that. It’s not me belonging to him, but both of us being together in such a perfect union. “I love you,” she said, surprising herself with her candor. “I fought it and circled around it, but you have shown me so much. Hell, you believe in me.” “Does this mean you’ll come back to Al-Marasae, my sheikha?” “Of course,” she said, snuggling against him. “I’m yours for as long as you want me.”
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***
Chapter Seven Asam grinned widely as he booted up his laptop to place a call to his brother. It was time to check on the contracts and make sure Prada, Gucci, and Dior had all finalized the contracts for storefront space. He was also going over the proposals for the senior staff and making sure his acting manager was already organizing the hiring process. It was a busy day ahead, and he would be spending it frolicking with Kelly on the beach. But while she recovered from their love making last night, he needed to work on getting some headway in. It would be too much to get to Monday morning if he let it all go for over a week.
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However, it wasn’t his brother who answered when the call went through. How his father had been around to intercept Dharr’s call, Asam didn’t know, but he definitely didn’t want to. Wily old Azhaar had his ways. When didn’t his father have spies and machinations in play everywhere? “My son,” his father wheezed, hunched toward the screen. “How exactly is taking off with some American whor* going to help you? Do you think I want to have someone not of Middle Eastern descent near the throne? Alana is bad enough being raised an infidel, but do you really expect me to indulge you in a fantasy of her cow friend?” “Kelly,” he groused out, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “The ‘cow’ has a name, and it’s Kelly Kentworth. I want her to be my bride.”
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“I told you when I set up the challenge that you had a limited time to bring me a worthy bride, my son. You’ve played around in a luxury resort with an American slu*t. That’s worse than your brothers. It’s completely unforgiveable.” “I love her.” His father threw his head back and laughed; it was a rasping sound that made Asam’s stomach churn. “She’s just a fat infidel fool, not at all suitable for a sheikha. I gave you orders, and you bring me back a middle finger as far as your chosen bride. Pick better, or Oasis will belong to someone else. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, the entire Hassem line will only contain two brothers. Now fix it!” he demanded before clicking off. Asam frowned back at the screen. The only thing that kept him from tossing his
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laptop across the room was the fact he needed it. Money wasn’t an issue, and neither was replacing it, but moving files over from a broken machine wouldn’t be worth the momentary catharsis. Annoyed, he just growled back at the Skype welcome page. “Gee, Father, so wonderful to talk with you too. In English no less.” “Yeah, it was nice...for both of us,” a cold, collected voice said behind him. He turned around and gaped back at Kelly. Cold fury simmered in her emerald eyes. Asam knew then why his father had spoken to him in English, why he’d been so deliberate. The rat bastard had set everything up so perfectly to help drive Kelly away for good.
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Jumping to his feet, he held out his hands in a placating gesture. “Kelly, I can explain.” “Don’t bother,” she shouted, pulling off the rings and throwing them to the floor. “Were you even drunk that night? Did you just scheme to marry me? Did Daddy Dearest give you an ultimatum like he did your brothers?” “Yes, but it’s not what you think.” “It’s exactly what I think! I heard him. He was nice and clear, and in English on top of all of that. You needed a wife, so you snagged me with a little help from alcohol.” “You didn’t seem to need help consuming it,” he said, his tone hard. Flames danced in the green depths of her pupils, and she shook her head again.
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“That’s unbelievable. You really want to say that? I’d had one of the most humiliating days ever at work. I wasn’t expecting international marriage plots just so Sheikh Asam Hassem could get exactly what he wanted. News flash. I’m not the passport to keeping your charmed life. I thought you loved me. That this was about making up for everything that went so horribly at that damn bachelor party, but it never was!” He strode across the room and pulled her to his chest. She struggled against him, but he needed her, craved her like a drug by now, like a heroin addict scraping for any needle he could find while chasing the dragon. “Let me go!” she shouted, trying to pull back. Even for all her soft curves, she was still a tiny woman, so short against his torso.
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It was easy to pin her there and try to make her see that they fit together—that they belonged. Leaning down, he stuck his nose in her hair, sniffing the sweet fragrance of strawberries and lilac from her shampoo. It was like heaven. Then the sharp pain in his groin sent him to his knees. Kelly crossed her arms over her chest. Normally, such insolence carried harsh penalties in Al-Marasae. He’d seen a few of the horrors meted out on his father’s disobedient concubines, those poor women. But he wasn’t like that. He loved Kelly, and if what she wanted most was to leave him behind—even if that burned like lava in his veins—then he had to accept it. He’d seen the way women who didn’t want to be in the harem had loathed his father, even sometimes how his mother glared at him over stony silences at
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the dining table. He wanted Kelly to be with him of her own free will, or he didn’t want her at all. He could never bear to keep her with him if this was how she felt about him. “You stay away from me,” she spat. “I didn’t mean it. I came to Las Vegas to date you. I didn’t expect what happened at the Blue Suede Chapel any more than you did.” “But you had a clock ticking down on you that I didn’t know about. Your father’s edicts are a huge thing to hide, Asam, and you could have would have benefitted from that stunt.” “Yes, because he was so happy to speak about you,” he said, his tone low and wounded.
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“But you lied, didn’t tell me the real reason for you being in town. I can’t do this anymore. I…” “What?” “Can you just take me to Al-Marasae? If I’m already in the Middle East, then I want to see my godson and Alana, but I can’t stand the sight of you,” she turned quickly on her heels and called back over her shoulder. “It’s a good thing the palace is the size of a city block. I can avoid you for a few days and you better pray you don’t sneak up on me or try begging me to be with you again, Asam. You won’t like it.” “As you wish,” he said, slamming his computer to the tile below him anyway, gratified when it smashed into a dozen hunks of plastic and glass. At least something matched his mood now.
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*** “I’m beyond confused,” Alana confessed, blinking her large, turquoise eyes back at Kelly. “You and Asam did what?” “We got drunk and hitched in Vegas, then he offered me ten million dollars to try out the marriage either way with a vacation to Abu Dhabi. I just found out it was all some crazy plot. He had to do what Dharr did, and I was a crazy last-ditch effort to settle down or be disinherited. I mean, can you imagine? Who helps get a girl tipsy just to wed her?” she asked, slouching back on the couch. Little Gabriel whined a little from his place in Alana’s arms and snuggled in more deeply into his mother’s side. Her best friend shushed the tot and rolled her eyes back at Kelly. “Freak out a little quieter, Kel.”
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“Alright, I just…I felt so betrayed. I rarely get out this far. It’s way easier to have a free hop from the UAE to here than to just head back to Vegas. All I wanted was to try and make a real attempt with him...to put it the way I thought it should have been from the beginning. I don’t even know how we got here.” “Maybe you need to think about it logically,” Alana said, placing her son gently back in his crib. “I am being rational. Asam is a liar.” “Yes, but you heard his father. He picked a bride that would never be acceptable. He completed the whole thing in the spirit of the law but not to the letter.” Despite her dour mood, despite everything horrible that had happened lately, Kelly had to laugh. You could take the girl
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out of the American courtroom at least, but you couldn’t take the lawyer out of the girl. Leave it to Alana to dissect everything like a trial. “He didn’t seem thrilled with an American at all.” Alana snorted. “I know Azhaar. I’ve spent almost two years being polite where I can be and ignoring him otherwise. Hell, I don’t even leave poor Gabriel alone with his grandfather. The man’s a shark and gets more bitter as ages and becomes sicker. He knows the boys and their reforms are the future of Al-Marasae and, more than that, they’re what the public wants here. What they’re doing will help fix everything.” “And he’s jealous?” “Extremely so. His liver is failing, and he knows it. I doubt he’ll be around three
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years from now, and I’m sorry in the abstract because I know, despite logic, Dharr—all of them really—still love that ass. Still, he’s angry and bitter. If Asam really wanted to please his father, he’d have consented to an arranged marriage or brought home an AlMarasaen girl.” “But there’s an edict.” “So? Everything with Dharr and me started even worse with him abducting me. It’s not always what you think it’s going to be, but you’re not mad he returned because of an ultimatum.” She arched a skeptical eyebrow back at her friend. “I’m not? Because I feel extremely pissed about it. Believe me.” “No, you’re scared because you’re not sure Asam is actually sorry. You’re scared
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he’ll break your heart again, whether it’s ten days down the line or ten years.” “I trusted him again, thought we’d really connected, and he stomped on everything. I can’t risk my heart again. I just need to rest a few days, go home, and then strike out to find my fortune from New York,” she said, brushing her tears from her cheeks. “At least this terrible week was worth something.” Alana hugged her tight. “I think it was worth far more than you think.” ***
Chapter Eight Asam should have been on the other side of the country. Oasis needed him back at his best making sure everything came to fruition for his project. But he didn’t care. He’d stayed in his wing of the compound, stewing over all of it and waiting for one final thing. He’d sent for a special package from the Blue Suede Chapel. It had taken almost a week to come from the United States, but he had it in hand and a plan to pull his life back together. He’d lied to himself. He could try to wish Kelly well, but the thought of her away in New York, starting her life and eventually finding comfort with another man, burned him. He might never force her, might not drag her into the
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harem, which would technically be his right as a sheikh, but he’d be damned if he’d give up without a fight. He grinned to himself and rushed out the doors. First, he had needed to speak with his father, then he was going to sweep a certain woman off her feet. It didn’t take long to find his father. He was in the damn harem room to begin with and, even after over thirty years of this part of his life, this annoyed Asam. There was everything to love about his mother. She was smarter than the harem women were and had stood by his father for decades. Asam knew it dug into her soul every time his pig of a father slipped in here. Some days he hoped he’d just have a heart attack in the middle of his romps and do them all a favor.
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“My son, have you come for some fun?” his father leered, even as one of the youngest women in the harem tickled at the chest hair. “No, goodbye.”
Father,
I’ve
come
to
say
“Heading out to your pet hotel project then? Good. Say the word, and I’ll work with your mother to arrange the proper bride for you.” “It’d be novel if you ever did anything with mother,” he said then bit off quick orders for the woman to back away to the concubines’ corner of the harem. “Never stop the pleasure of an old man,” his father said, getting to his feet and coming to stand before him. Once he’d been tall and towered over him. If osteoporosis hadn’t started working on his back and
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hunched him over, Azhaar would still be tall, but now he was the frailest of creatures, almost not worth hating. Almost. “So, my son,” he said, spitting those words like a curse. “You must truly want to be disinherited. Like I said, it’s not wise to insult me and ruin my night.” “It’s not wise to harass me either. I’m not a little kid anymore, and I’m done with you. Faaid and Dharr might feel some lingering filial loyalty to you, but I don’t anymore. You can take my inheritance and shove it up your ass.” His father reached up to slap him. It was pathetic to see such an old and frail not even realize that his time had passed him by.
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Asam snatched his father’s hand out of the air and tightly gripped his wrist, putting just enough pressure to make his tendons stretch. His father let out a low moan, and his face flushed purple with the discomfort. “No, you useless old man. You’re the failure here, and no one will miss you or your edicts when you go. Let my brothers keep running Al-Marasae and our interests. I’m through with this.” “You will never be through with me.” Asam shook his head and pushed his father just hard enough to send him sprawling onto the cushioned pillows scattered across the floor. “Yes, I am. Starting now...” *** “I thought you promised not to stalk me through the palace,” Kelly said, her tone clipped.
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Asam sidled up next to her in the garden. He set up his new laptop before her and popped open the media player. “I lied.” She started to stand, but he grabbed her hand tightly. “You’re good at lying. That’s all you do.” “But this is about the truth,” he said, playing the DVD the chapel sent him. They had that option, and he’d been shocked as hell when he’d called them for details about the ceremony to realize he’d gotten the deluxe package. It included the DVD of happy memories with it. It had been torture to watch it this morning but also a sweet relief because it could show Kelly everything. Say it all to her in a way he couldn’t. “The Blue Suede Chapel sent us a souvenir.” “Goody,” she said, her tone still as cutting as knives. “Now I can relive the joy of a fake, one-week marriage nightmare.”
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“Well, you did at least lap Britney Spears about seven times over.” “That’s not helping!” she snapped, even though her upper lip quirked just a little as a sign of her mirth. That was something. It was more kindness than she’d shown him after his father’s call at the Yas Beach. He could work with that. As the screen came up, he scrolled through the basics and made sure to skip to the vows. Hers were first and mostly garbled bunch of “you’re the bests.” His were next, and despite him weaving back and forth on his feet and being clearly as intoxicated as she was, at least Asam’s own words were far easier to understand. Thank Allah for small favors, like intelligible speech.
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“This isn’t going to change—” “Shh,” he said, holding up his hand. “You’ll see.” On the screen, the old Asam, the deliriously happy one just a week ago, began to speak... “I’m not going to say I loved you since the moment I met you. I’m not…I’m not good at big thoughts. I always make the big mistakes though. I’d do anything to not have walked away that night, and I’m so glad, ugh...” For a minute, his onscreen double paused to belch. “Anyway, sorry, I’m glad I walked back into your life. You’re the only woman I could ever want, Kelly Kentworth, and with this ring, I marry you.” He clicked pause on the video player and strode over to the nearest rosebush to pluck a gorgeous red rose for Kelly.
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When he handed it to her, she was crying then. Tears streaked down her cheeks. “You do mean it.” “Maybe there’s hope for you yet, mon amie,” he said. “I do love you, and I came to Vegas to win you back however I could. I don’t care about what my father wants. In fact, I told him to shove his rules. I’d rather be poor with you in the States than under his thumb here as the type of son he wants.” She blinked up at him, her eyes wide. “You can’t mean that.” “I can, and I do,” he added, stroking her beautiful spun-gold hair back from her face. “I love you, Kelly, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.” “If I’ll have you?”
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He grinned and kissed her, reveling in the soft strokes of her tongue against his own. They stayed like that for what felt like forever, locked in an intimate embrace. Finally, he pulled back and kissed the tip of her nose. “Mon amie, you’ll have me. Together, we’re going to create our own Oasis and bring your most delicious creations to New York City. With my public relations and management skills and your amazing food, we can’t lose.” “So,” she said, licking her lips. Dear Allah, he was hard just seeing that much. “My sheikh, for the record, are we going to own the Big Apple because I’m great or you are?” He kissed her again before answering. “Because we’re unstoppable together.” She smiled sweetly and squeezed his hand. “I can’t argue with that.”
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“For once,” he joked before they headed back to his room. They had so much time to make up for, and he didn’t intend to waste it.
The End!
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The Sheikh’s American Desire By: Sophia Lynn
All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2016 Sophia Lynn
CHAPTER ONE The bedroom that she had been assigned was luxurious beyond anything she could have dreamed of. The bed was an enormous four-poster with silk brocade covers, and the makeup table in the corner would have satisfied any 1930s movie star. Above, the ceiling had been painted with silvery stars that glittered in the low light. Daisy couldn't see any of that, though. Instead, she could only see the gown that hung up on the standing mirror nearby. It was a traditional Samaran gown, with a tight bodice embroidered with sequins and swirling silk thread patterns. Even in the dim light of the room, the olive gown glimmered with a beauty that could not be hidden.
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Daisy was terrified. Somewhere in the palace, the clock struck nine. She flinched. She should have been downstairs half an hour ago, but she had seen the dress the palace girls had left for her, and she had frozen. I can't wear that, that's not me! her mind insisted. That's like something for... As if the thought had summoned her, the door creaked open and Lia appeared. “Oh no, Daisy, are you all right?” Lia Gardner was a tall and willowy redhead with a face that was saved from severity only by the splatter of freckles on her nose. She wore Brooklyn street fashion and haute couture dresses with ease, but tonight, she wore the signature white and gold gown of Samaran royalty. By contrast, Daisy
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was shorter, rounder, and still dressed in the black sweater and long black skirt she had been wearing all day. Lia strode into the room, turning on the lights with a brisk efficiency that Daisy could only envy. As she watched Lia examine the dress hanging off of the mirror, she felt that familiar stab of jealousy that was so common whenever she was around her older sister. Where Lia was a sharp yes, Daisy had always been a hesitant maybe. Instead of Lia's fiery red mane, Daisy's hair was a dark chestnut, and where Lia's eyes were a flashing green, hers were a softer hazel. When Lia had flown away to exotic Samara, however, Daisy had missed her sister immensely. It seemed like a fairytale when, only a few months later, she received news that her sister had married Sheikh Khilafa Baykara, the protector of the country.
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Daisy had missed the wedding, but Lia had insisted that she appear for the one month anniversary. In Samaran culture, the one month celebration was even more important than the wedding, and Lia had brooked no disagreements. That was why Daisy had swallowed her fear of planes and come all the way to Samara. Through the long trip, she had held on to the fact that she was going to see her beloved sister again. Lia had been wrapped in a long series of preparations, rituals, and a dozen tasks, but still she had found the time to see her wayward little sister. Leave it to Lia to appear just when I have to do something I don't want to, thought Daisy wryly. “Is there something wrong with the dress? I know that Samaran gowns can be a
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bit tricky, but this was cut to your measurements...” “It's not that, it's just so much. There's so much going on and so many people...” A sudden horrid thought struck Daisy. “And, they're all here for you! Oh, Lia, I shouldn't be keeping you from everyone...” Lia waved a careless hand. “If they think they can start without me, they're welcome to try.” Some might have thought that it was marrying Samara's most powerful man had given Lia airs, but Daisy knew that she had always been like this. Lia knew who was important to her, and she didn't hesitate to let that be known to the rest of the world.
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Lia pulled the gown off the hanger, handling it with care for the beautiful embroidery work on it. “Now tell me what's the problem, sweetheart.” “It's just too much,” Daisy tried to articulate. “There are all those people, and they're going to be looking at me, and...and...” “Wrong,” said Lia briskly. “They're going to be looking at me. I promise, if anyone looks at you sideways, I'll come down on them like the fist of an angry god. Now, can I help you get into this?” Daisy's smile was small, but it was genuine. Somehow, Lia always knew what to say to make her feel better. “Okay.”
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“Good. And, the main hall is enormous, but there are lots of places for you to tuck yourself away, if you need to hide for a while.” In a matter of seconds, Lia had Daisy stripped down to her plain white underthings and stepping into the olive gown. In the brighter light, Daisy could tell it was not one shade of green, but several. The dress was cunningly sewn so that the different shades of fabric combined into a beautiful textured whole. The part of Daisy that adored colors and textures loved the effect. The rest of her was terrified of wearing something so beautiful and obviously expensive. “Breathe in...” Without thinking about it, Daisy did as her sister said. When she felt Lia start to do up the bodice's buttons, she gasped.
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“That's too tight!” she said. “It's not, trust me,” Lia said patiently. “It's supposed to fit like that.” Now that Daisy was looking, he could see that Lia's gown nipped her in at the waist and pushed her breasts up. “All right...” Lia was just reaching for the buttons again when the door opened. “A one-month anniversary doesn't mean much if a man must celebrate it alone,” said Sheikh Khilafa Baykara. “Khilafa! I will be right down, and next time, for the love of all that's good, knock! This is my sister's room!” “Beautiful sister,” came an amused voice from behind Khilafa. There was
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another man there, one that Daisy couldn't see, but she still yelped, gathering up the edges of her dress and turning away. Her face was on fire. Khilafa laughed. “At your convenience then, beautiful women,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “I swear, that man only plays the savage sheikh when he thinks it's funny,” Lia muttered. “Now come here, and let me take care of you. We really are a bit late.” Daisy submitted to her sister's ministrations, her face still flaming red. She could imagine how she looked, half in and half out of a gown that was far too beautiful for her, her skin pale and doughy in the bright light.
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Lia was right. The dress was comfortable once it was secured. Daisy could feel the way it made her stand up straighter. She was a little self-conscious about the way her breasts were pushed up and her hips were pushed down, but she figured there would be enough people there that she wouldn't stand out too horribly. Lia ran a quick brush through Daisy's hair. Like Lia's, it was wavy and naturally sleek and shiny. All it took was a brush to make it glow. “There, now you're beautiful,” Lia said approvingly. “Do you want to see what you look like in the mirror?” “Not at all,” said Daisy. “Let's go before we're that much later.” Lia rolled her eyes at her sister's reticence, and arm in arm, they left the room.
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*** When Lia had spoken about the one month ceremonies, Daisy had been expecting something formal, long, and impressive. The main hall, decked out in hothouse flowers with a real fountain sparkling at one end was indeed impressive, as were the people who crowded its length. Some of the attendees were dressed in traditional Samaran splendor, others were dressed in western ball gowns and tuxedos, but clearly all were there to impress and stun. Daisy had never felt more out of place in her life. There were no long speeches or rituals, however. Khilafa, dressed in white robes and handsome as a movie star, had stepped up to the dais. With a glowing grin, he gave a brief speech on his duties as the protector of Samara and how he had found the one who would protect it just as fiercely as he would. He presented a brilliant Lia to
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thunderous applause. When the tumult died down, they raised their joined hands. “May all be welcome in our house!” they cried together, and the music had started. Daisy knew that her sister wouldn't be able to take up her old role of social buffer for her. It didn't stop her from feeling adrift and lost amongst all the beautiful people, though. A few of them smiled at her, but her answering grin, probably nervous and shy, prevented most from approaching. When she saw a few who did want to come near, Daisy couldn't stop herself from ducking through the crowd. Maybe I just need to loosen up a little, she thought hopefully. She made her was to the long refreshments table and was promptly confused by
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the variety of things offered there. There was a lull in the crowd, so she didn't feel so very pushed, but still, she wasn't sure what she wanted. “Do you need some help, beautiful girl?” They were the first words spoken to her since the party began. It was just as well she hadn't been holding a drink because she would have spilled it all over herself. “I... I don't know...” The man standing beside her was dressed in an impeccably fitted European tuxedo. The stark black of the suit and the gleaming white of the shirt only served to emphasize the bronze of his skin and the dark luster of his hair. Unlike many of the men at the event, he was completely clean shaven, which gave him a roguish, boy-like
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look. His black eyes danced with merriment, and his smile was very white and very sharp. “If you came from America, you will not have many of these drinks available to you, I do not think. Perhaps you would care for some help?” The calm assurance compared with his muscular frame made her think of Khilafa, she realized. She wondered with a bit of panic whether she was talking with a Samaran noble. “I would like that a lot,” she said, wishing her voice wasn't so quiet. “I mean, I want to try something new, but I don't want to order something...completely inappropriate, I guess? I mean...” His soft laugh was utterly without sting or censure.
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“Of course. When I was at Oxford, I made an ass of myself because I didn't know how powerful scotch is. Let me help you.” Daisy thought that he would simply order for her, but instead he stepped close. The crowd at her back meant that she couldn't pull away. Now, she realized how truly large he was, how powerful his frame. He smells like mint and flowers, she thought hazily. “Now, that bottle contains raki. It's from Turkey originally, but Samara has made it its own. Licorice, strong, and a little coarse. Maybe not so suitable for a young lady?” Daisy bit her lip, but before she could say yes or no, he continued.
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“There is tej, which is made from honey. Sweet, lovely, and runs from light to heavy, but still very strong.” The tej was beautiful, with a soft golden color that immediately drew her eye. Before she could comment, the man went on. “And, there at the end is something that might suit you. It's not so popular in Samara, but it is a traditional drink in Marat. Lemon juice, orange juice, rosewater, honey syrup – I think you would enjoy it...” Daisy stared up at him with dismay. “Are you saying that I should be drinking lemonade?” His grin was white and sharp. “Well, you looked a little intimidated by the alcohol...”
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“I'm not a child!” Before he could make a response, a charmingly dressed little girl in a pink Samaran gown walked up to the table, and as Daisy watched with irritation, she asked for the lemonade. She turned a glare on the man standing next to her. He only looked amused, which made her even more irritable. “Thank you for the advice,” she said, doing her best imitation of Lia when Lia was irritated. “I think I've got it from here.” The worst part was that the rosewater lemonade did sound good. She loved floral flavors, and she had always had a love of overly sweet drinks. Still, there was a point to be made. “May I have some of the raki, please?”
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Daisy was a little dismayed when the smiling server poured her what looked like an enormous glass of the milky liquid. She took it, feeling less certain by the moment. When she saw the man smiling at her out of the corner of her eye, however, she felt even more determined. Bracing herself, she took a careful sip. She just barely managed to keep herself from coughing at the rough burn. The licorice flavor was unmistakable, and it scourged her throat. “How is it?” asked her companion with interest. “Fine, it's good,” she said. She was proud that she managed to keep her voice relatively level.
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“Good. Perhaps when your sister is helping you with your clothes tonight, you will remember to put in a good word for me.” Daisy frowned. For a moment, she had no idea what he was talking about, but then she flushed. “You were standing behind Khilafa earlier,” she sputtered. “You saw...” “Less than I would like,” he told her with a sly note to his voice. If Daisy hadn't been convinced that the alcohol being served was of the best quality, she would have liked to dash it in his face. Lia was practically the queen of the country, she could probably smooth over any trouble that might have caused. Instead, she took a deep breath, gathering what was left of her dignity.
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“Thank you for your help,” she said. “I'm afraid I must be off now.” The man looked like he wanted to protest, but then a woman materialized out of the crowd. Like him, she wore Western garb, a sleek gown in vibrant blue with golden stitching along the seams. There were diamonds at her throat and her ears and venom in her eyes. For just a moment, those eyes set on Daisy, causing the young woman to shiver instinctively. The man looked faintly irritated, and that look became even darker when she set a hand on the crook of his elbow. It was all the chance that Daisy needed. She had had plenty of experience fading into the background when she could. She melted away into the crowd like a shadow, still clutching her drink. When she
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glanced back, she could see the man and woman standing closely together. Are they married, she wondered indignantly. If she was married, she wouldn't want her husband giving beverage advice to confused women. Something about the whole scene gave her a pang, however. He had teased her, mocked her, and perhaps propositioned her, but she couldn't deny that there was something powerfully magnetic about him. As she walked through the crowd, his dark eyes haunted her. She realized she was still holding her glass of raki. The second sip still burned, but she thought that it was a little less painful. The third sip was even smoother. It's not so bad, she said to herself. I'm here for a party, and after tonight, I'll hang
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out with Lia for a bit, and then it'll be back to Albany for me... *** The gardens outside the ballroom were dark and lush. She could hear some faint footsteps, some soft words. They told her that she did not walk alone. She had almost finished the glass of raki. Daisy felt obscurely proud of herself. She knew that the alcohol was powerful, but still, she had managed it. She could feel it making her soft and warm inside. Unless she was very careful where she put her feet, she would have stumbled. The crush of the ballroom had seemed too much, so she had found refuge in the dark gardens. All around her were the scents of jasmine and gardenias and other exotic flowers for which she had no names.
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Samara was so beautiful that it made her hurt. She loved the palace, the way it seemed to cradle all of the people within. It was the perfect setting for Khilafa and Lia, who glowed like gods come to earth. Watching them dance together had been enthralling. “You look pensive, little one.” The voice came from the darkness beside her, and for some reason, that didn't even seem strange to her. “Maybe a little,” she said with a smile. “I... It's so beautiful here. It's amazing, all of the history that Samara holds.” “Oh? Are you an art buyer like your sister to speak so of beauty?”
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Daisy laughed. “Oh no, not me. Well, I guess I know a little because Lia's my sister, but no, I'm an interior decorator.” “Ah, so you are in the business of beauty yourself.” “Maybe... I tend to think of it as making homes?” “Oh?” Most people weren't actually that interested in why she did her work as long as they liked the look of their new homes. Perhaps the speaker from the darkness wasn't interested either, but the raki made her brave. “Yes. We all need places to live, and so many people just...choose to accept whatever they get. I think that every home should reflect and enhance the people living there.
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Your home should be a part of you, and you should be a part of your home. That is what I do.” “Your home must be a beautiful place, then.” Daisy's laugh was self-deprecating. “I don't know about that. Sometimes, it feels as if I'm so busy building a home that I never think of what I want in one. Something I do for all my clients is that I get to know them. I want their home to be real to them, you know? Maybe I just don't know myself well enough to create a place that suits me.” “That sounds sad.” “Maybe it is. All I know is how to make homes for other people. I guess that is a little sad. But they are very beautiful homes.”
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There was a soft chuckle, rich and smooth as chocolate. It warmed her up from the toes. “I'm sure you do.” “I really do. I always want my clients to have the best.” The weariness from her long trip and the exhaustion from the party were beginning to wear on her. She felt herself waver on her feet a little. Suddenly, there was a strong arm around her. “Hey, I don't-” “Shh, little one. I'm safe, and so are you. You simply look a little...worn out.” “I am,” she said, the alcohol loosening her tongue more than she would have guessed. “I could sleep for days.”
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“Well, we'll see about getting you to bed, then, shall we?” Daisy muttered a token protest, but bed sounded lovely. She wanted to get out of her gorgeous dress, shut the door on all of the beautiful people, and dream away the rest. “This isn't an invitation,” she said. If she were sober, she would have been horrified at her bluntness. Instead, she only saw it as appropriate. “I mean it. I don't... I don't go to bed with...with just anyone.” Or anyone at all, but the nice voice in the darkness didn't need to know that. “I can see that you are not like that at all,” he assured her. “Your honor is safe with me, but perhaps we should get you into bed before you fall over?”
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She muttered something in affirmative. The alcohol was hitting her hard now. She drew herself up as straight as she could, which honestly wasn't very straight at all. “Take me to my room, please,” she said, doing a credible impression of Lia. “As my lady wishes,” was the response, and if there was a slight grin in that voice, she decided magnanimously that she would forgive it.
CHAPTER TWO The bedroom that she had been assigned was luxurious beyond anything she could have dreamed of. The bed was an enormous four-poster with silk brocade covers, and the makeup table in the corner would have satisfied any 1930s movie star. Above, the ceiling had been painted with silvery stars that glittered in the low light. Daisy couldn't see any of that, though. Instead, she could only see the gown that hung up on the standing mirror nearby. It was a traditional Samaran gown, with a tight bodice embroidered with sequins and swirling silk thread patterns. Even in the dim light of the room, the olive gown glimmered with a beauty that could not be hidden.
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Daisy was terrified. Somewhere in the palace, the clock struck nine. She flinched. She should have been downstairs half an hour ago, but she had seen the dress the palace girls had left for her, and she had frozen. I can't wear that, that's not me! her mind insisted. That's like something for... As if the thought had summoned her, the door creaked open and Lia appeared. “Oh no, Daisy, are you all right?” Lia Gardner was a tall and willowy redhead with a face that was saved from severity only by the splatter of freckles on her nose. She wore Brooklyn street fashion and haute couture dresses with ease, but tonight, she wore the signature white and gold gown of Samaran royalty. By contrast, Daisy
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was shorter, rounder, and still dressed in the black sweater and long black skirt she had been wearing all day. Lia strode into the room, turning on the lights with a brisk efficiency that Daisy could only envy. As she watched Lia examine the dress hanging off of the mirror, she felt that familiar stab of jealousy that was so common whenever she was around her older sister. Where Lia was a sharp yes, Daisy had always been a hesitant maybe. Instead of Lia's fiery red mane, Daisy's hair was a dark chestnut, and where Lia's eyes were a flashing green, hers were a softer hazel. When Lia had flown away to exotic Samara, however, Daisy had missed her sister immensely. It seemed like a fairytale when, only a few months later, she received news that her sister had married Sheikh Khilafa Baykara, the protector of the country.
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Daisy had missed the wedding, but Lia had insisted that she appear for the one month anniversary. In Samaran culture, the one month celebration was even more important than the wedding, and Lia had brooked no disagreements. That was why Daisy had swallowed her fear of planes and come all the way to Samara. Through the long trip, she had held on to the fact that she was going to see her beloved sister again. Lia had been wrapped in a long series of preparations, rituals, and a dozen tasks, but still she had found the time to see her wayward little sister. Leave it to Lia to appear just when I have to do something I don't want to, thought Daisy wryly. “Is there something wrong with the dress? I know that Samaran gowns can be a
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bit tricky, but this was cut to your measurements...” “It's not that, it's just so much. There's so much going on and so many people...” A sudden horrid thought struck Daisy. “And, they're all here for you! Oh, Lia, I shouldn't be keeping you from everyone...” Lia waved a careless hand. “If they think they can start without me, they're welcome to try.” Some might have thought that it was marrying Samara's most powerful man had given Lia airs, but Daisy knew that she had always been like this. Lia knew who was important to her, and she didn't hesitate to let that be known to the rest of the world.
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Lia pulled the gown off the hanger, handling it with care for the beautiful embroidery work on it. “Now tell me what's the problem, sweetheart.” “It's just too much,” Daisy tried to articulate. “There are all those people, and they're going to be looking at me, and...and...” “Wrong,” said Lia briskly. “They're going to be looking at me. I promise, if anyone looks at you sideways, I'll come down on them like the fist of an angry god. Now, can I help you get into this?” Daisy's smile was small, but it was genuine. Somehow, Lia always knew what to say to make her feel better. “Okay.”
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“Good. And, the main hall is enormous, but there are lots of places for you to tuck yourself away, if you need to hide for a while.” In a matter of seconds, Lia had Daisy stripped down to her plain white underthings and stepping into the olive gown. In the brighter light, Daisy could tell it was not one shade of green, but several. The dress was cunningly sewn so that the different shades of fabric combined into a beautiful textured whole. The part of Daisy that adored colors and textures loved the effect. The rest of her was terrified of wearing something so beautiful and obviously expensive. “Breathe in...” Without thinking about it, Daisy did as her sister said. When she felt Lia start to do up the bodice's buttons, she gasped.
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“That's too tight!” she said. “It's not, trust me,” Lia said patiently. “It's supposed to fit like that.” Now that Daisy was looking, he could see that Lia's gown nipped her in at the waist and pushed her breasts up. “All right...” Lia was just reaching for the buttons again when the door opened. “A one-month anniversary doesn't mean much if a man must celebrate it alone,” said Sheikh Khilafa Baykara. “Khilafa! I will be right down, and next time, for the love of all that's good, knock! This is my sister's room!” “Beautiful sister,” came an amused voice from behind Khilafa. There was
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another man there, one that Daisy couldn't see, but she still yelped, gathering up the edges of her dress and turning away. Her face was on fire. Khilafa laughed. “At your convenience then, beautiful women,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “I swear, that man only plays the savage sheikh when he thinks it's funny,” Lia muttered. “Now come here, and let me take care of you. We really are a bit late.” Daisy submitted to her sister's ministrations, her face still flaming red. She could imagine how she looked, half in and half out of a gown that was far too beautiful for her, her skin pale and doughy in the bright light.
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Lia was right. The dress was comfortable once it was secured. Daisy could feel the way it made her stand up straighter. She was a little self-conscious about the way her breasts were pushed up and her hips were pushed down, but she figured there would be enough people there that she wouldn't stand out too horribly. Lia ran a quick brush through Daisy's hair. Like Lia's, it was wavy and naturally sleek and shiny. All it took was a brush to make it glow. “There, now you're beautiful,” Lia said approvingly. “Do you want to see what you look like in the mirror?” “Not at all,” said Daisy. “Let's go before we're that much later.” Lia rolled her eyes at her sister's reticence, and arm in arm, they left the room.
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*** When Lia had spoken about the one month ceremonies, Daisy had been expecting something formal, long, and impressive. The main hall, decked out in hothouse flowers with a real fountain sparkling at one end was indeed impressive, as were the people who crowded its length. Some of the attendees were dressed in traditional Samaran splendor, others were dressed in western ball gowns and tuxedos, but clearly all were there to impress and stun. Daisy had never felt more out of place in her life. There were no long speeches or rituals, however. Khilafa, dressed in white robes and handsome as a movie star, had stepped up to the dais. With a glowing grin, he gave a brief speech on his duties as the protector of Samara and how he had found the one who would protect it just as fiercely as he would. He presented a brilliant Lia to
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thunderous applause. When the tumult died down, they raised their joined hands. “May all be welcome in our house!” they cried together, and the music had started. Daisy knew that her sister wouldn't be able to take up her old role of social buffer for her. It didn't stop her from feeling adrift and lost amongst all the beautiful people, though. A few of them smiled at her, but her answering grin, probably nervous and shy, prevented most from approaching. When she saw a few who did want to come near, Daisy couldn't stop herself from ducking through the crowd. Maybe I just need to loosen up a little, she thought hopefully. She made her was to the long refreshments table and was promptly confused by
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the variety of things offered there. There was a lull in the crowd, so she didn't feel so very pushed, but still, she wasn't sure what she wanted. “Do you need some help, beautiful girl?” They were the first words spoken to her since the party began. It was just as well she hadn't been holding a drink because she would have spilled it all over herself. “I... I don't know...” The man standing beside her was dressed in an impeccably fitted European tuxedo. The stark black of the suit and the gleaming white of the shirt only served to emphasize the bronze of his skin and the dark luster of his hair. Unlike many of the men at the event, he was completely clean shaven, which gave him a roguish, boy-like
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look. His black eyes danced with merriment, and his smile was very white and very sharp. “If you came from America, you will not have many of these drinks available to you, I do not think. Perhaps you would care for some help?” The calm assurance compared with his muscular frame made her think of Khilafa, she realized. She wondered with a bit of panic whether she was talking with a Samaran noble. “I would like that a lot,” she said, wishing her voice wasn't so quiet. “I mean, I want to try something new, but I don't want to order something...completely inappropriate, I guess? I mean...” His soft laugh was utterly without sting or censure.
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“Of course. When I was at Oxford, I made an ass of myself because I didn't know how powerful scotch is. Let me help you.” Daisy thought that he would simply order for her, but instead he stepped close. The crowd at her back meant that she couldn't pull away. Now, she realized how truly large he was, how powerful his frame. He smells like mint and flowers, she thought hazily. “Now, that bottle contains raki. It's from Turkey originally, but Samara has made it its own. Licorice, strong, and a little coarse. Maybe not so suitable for a young lady?” Daisy bit her lip, but before she could say yes or no, he continued.
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“There is tej, which is made from honey. Sweet, lovely, and runs from light to heavy, but still very strong.” The tej was beautiful, with a soft golden color that immediately drew her eye. Before she could comment, the man went on. “And, there at the end is something that might suit you. It's not so popular in Samara, but it is a traditional drink in Marat. Lemon juice, orange juice, rosewater, honey syrup – I think you would enjoy it...” Daisy stared up at him with dismay. “Are you saying that I should be drinking lemonade?” His grin was white and sharp. “Well, you looked a little intimidated by the alcohol...”
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“I'm not a child!” Before he could make a response, a charmingly dressed little girl in a pink Samaran gown walked up to the table, and as Daisy watched with irritation, she asked for the lemonade. She turned a glare on the man standing next to her. He only looked amused, which made her even more irritable. “Thank you for the advice,” she said, doing her best imitation of Lia when Lia was irritated. “I think I've got it from here.” The worst part was that the rosewater lemonade did sound good. She loved floral flavors, and she had always had a love of overly sweet drinks. Still, there was a point to be made. “May I have some of the raki, please?”
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Daisy was a little dismayed when the smiling server poured her what looked like an enormous glass of the milky liquid. She took it, feeling less certain by the moment. When she saw the man smiling at her out of the corner of her eye, however, she felt even more determined. Bracing herself, she took a careful sip. She just barely managed to keep herself from coughing at the rough burn. The licorice flavor was unmistakable, and it scourged her throat. “How is it?” asked her companion with interest. “Fine, it's good,” she said. She was proud that she managed to keep her voice relatively level.
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“Good. Perhaps when your sister is helping you with your clothes tonight, you will remember to put in a good word for me.” Daisy frowned. For a moment, she had no idea what he was talking about, but then she flushed. “You were standing behind Khilafa earlier,” she sputtered. “You saw...” “Less than I would like,” he told her with a sly note to his voice. If Daisy hadn't been convinced that the alcohol being served was of the best quality, she would have liked to dash it in his face. Lia was practically the queen of the country, she could probably smooth over any trouble that might have caused. Instead, she took a deep breath, gathering what was left of her dignity.
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“Thank you for your help,” she said. “I'm afraid I must be off now.” The man looked like he wanted to protest, but then a woman materialized out of the crowd. Like him, she wore Western garb, a sleek gown in vibrant blue with golden stitching along the seams. There were diamonds at her throat and her ears and venom in her eyes. For just a moment, those eyes set on Daisy, causing the young woman to shiver instinctively. The man looked faintly irritated, and that look became even darker when she set a hand on the crook of his elbow. It was all the chance that Daisy needed. She had had plenty of experience fading into the background when she could. She melted away into the crowd like a shadow, still clutching her drink. When she
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glanced back, she could see the man and woman standing closely together. Are they married, she wondered indignantly. If she was married, she wouldn't want her husband giving beverage advice to confused women. Something about the whole scene gave her a pang, however. He had teased her, mocked her, and perhaps propositioned her, but she couldn't deny that there was something powerfully magnetic about him. As she walked through the crowd, his dark eyes haunted her. She realized she was still holding her glass of raki. The second sip still burned, but she thought that it was a little less painful. The third sip was even smoother. It's not so bad, she said to herself. I'm here for a party, and after tonight, I'll hang
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out with Lia for a bit, and then it'll be back to Albany for me... *** The gardens outside the ballroom were dark and lush. She could hear some faint footsteps, some soft words. They told her that she did not walk alone. She had almost finished the glass of raki. Daisy felt obscurely proud of herself. She knew that the alcohol was powerful, but still, she had managed it. She could feel it making her soft and warm inside. Unless she was very careful where she put her feet, she would have stumbled. The crush of the ballroom had seemed too much, so she had found refuge in the dark gardens. All around her were the scents of jasmine and gardenias and other exotic flowers for which she had no names.
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Samara was so beautiful that it made her hurt. She loved the palace, the way it seemed to cradle all of the people within. It was the perfect setting for Khilafa and Lia, who glowed like gods come to earth. Watching them dance together had been enthralling. “You look pensive, little one.” The voice came from the darkness beside her, and for some reason, that didn't even seem strange to her. “Maybe a little,” she said with a smile. “I... It's so beautiful here. It's amazing, all of the history that Samara holds.” “Oh? Are you an art buyer like your sister to speak so of beauty?”
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Daisy laughed. “Oh no, not me. Well, I guess I know a little because Lia's my sister, but no, I'm an interior decorator.” “Ah, so you are in the business of beauty yourself.” “Maybe... I tend to think of it as making homes?” “Oh?” Most people weren't actually that interested in why she did her work as long as they liked the look of their new homes. Perhaps the speaker from the darkness wasn't interested either, but the raki made her brave. “Yes. We all need places to live, and so many people just...choose to accept whatever they get. I think that every home should reflect and enhance the people living there.
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Your home should be a part of you, and you should be a part of your home. That is what I do.” “Your home must be a beautiful place, then.” Daisy's laugh was self-deprecating. “I don't know about that. Sometimes, it feels as if I'm so busy building a home that I never think of what I want in one. Something I do for all my clients is that I get to know them. I want their home to be real to them, you know? Maybe I just don't know myself well enough to create a place that suits me.” “That sounds sad.” “Maybe it is. All I know is how to make homes for other people. I guess that is a little sad. But they are very beautiful homes.”
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There was a soft chuckle, rich and smooth as chocolate. It warmed her up from the toes. “I'm sure you do.” “I really do. I always want my clients to have the best.” The weariness from her long trip and the exhaustion from the party were beginning to wear on her. She felt herself waver on her feet a little. Suddenly, there was a strong arm around her. “Hey, I don't-” “Shh, little one. I'm safe, and so are you. You simply look a little...worn out.” “I am,” she said, the alcohol loosening her tongue more than she would have guessed. “I could sleep for days.”
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“Well, we'll see about getting you to bed, then, shall we?” Daisy muttered a token protest, but bed sounded lovely. She wanted to get out of her gorgeous dress, shut the door on all of the beautiful people, and dream away the rest. “This isn't an invitation,” she said. If she were sober, she would have been horrified at her bluntness. Instead, she only saw it as appropriate. “I mean it. I don't... I don't go to bed with...with just anyone.” Or anyone at all, but the nice voice in the darkness didn't need to know that. “I can see that you are not like that at all,” he assured her. “Your honor is safe with me, but perhaps we should get you into bed before you fall over?”
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She muttered something in affirmative. The alcohol was hitting her hard now. She drew herself up as straight as she could, which honestly wasn't very straight at all. “Take me to my room, please,” she said, doing a credible impression of Lia. “As my lady wishes,” was the response, and if there was a slight grin in that voice, she decided magnanimously that she would forgive it.
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