A Sheikh for Christmas (All I want for Christmas is... 1)

“Yes.” Seemed Mel had been reduced to one word answers at this point. Still, this cultured woman didn’t need to know all the sordid details of Mel’s past. Besides, if she stuck around New York long enough, she’d find them out all on her own. “I can make you some toast and eggs, if you’re hungry.”

Shayma looked up at Mel then, her dark gaze narrowed. “Are you Heath’s girlfriend?”

“No.” Not a lie. Not anymore. Heat prickled her cheeks as realization dawned in the other woman’s eyes. Mel found herself fumbling to explain her presence to this woman she’d just met, this woman who would take Daveed away, back to his royal homeland and the life he was meant to have—a life without Mel. “I… I needed a place to stay and Daveed was kind enough to let me sleep in the guest room and…”

“What are you doing out here, habibaty?” Daveed asked from the end of the hallway, his hair tousled and his voice rough with sleep. At least he’d pulled on a pair of old sweats to cover himself from the hips down, but there were love bites all over his chest and a distinct hickey on his neck from where Mel couldn’t seem to stop kissing him last night. “Who are you talking to?”

He shuffled down the dark hall and into the dim light of the kitchen, illuminated only by the light over the stove. He rubbed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face, his smile sexy and inviting as he stared at Mel. Then his eyes slowly drifted over to where Shayma sat at the bar and his expression fell into a stony scowl. “Why are you here?”

Seemingly unfazed, Shayma stood and walked over to him, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek before stepping back. “Your parents sent me to find you and bring you back to Al Dar Nasrani. Our wedding is scheduled for next month. Surely you haven’t forgotten.”

Mel watched the two of them over the rim of her mug. Daveed’s stare had not left her since Shayma had joined him, but the look in his eyes wasn’t the warm heat she remembered from the night before. No. Now, it had been replaced by cold anger. At her? At Shayma? At his parents? Mel wasn’t sure. In fact, the only thing she was sure of at that moment was that Daveed wasn’t happy.

Good. Because she wasn’t happy either.

Daveed exhaled slow, as if summoning all of his patience, then took Shayma by the arm and escorted her back to the door. “You should go. This is not the place for you.”

“I’ve been your intended since the age of six, Daveed. Where else would I belong?” Shayma dug in the heels of her designer pumps, refusing to budge. “And what is this American woman doing staying with you? She said she was not Heath’s girlfriend. Does that mean you are involved with her as well?”

“No.” For the first time ever, Mel saw him blush. “I mean, yes.” He scrubbed a hand through his disheveled hair. “I don’t know. All that I know, Shayma, is that you shouldn’t have come here. I made it clear when I left my parents’ island that our engagement was over. I don’t know what they think to accomplish by sending you here now, but it won’t work. I have my own life, my own priorities, and a relationship and marriage is not one of them right now, understand?”

His blunt words were like a sucker punch to Mel’s heart. Yes, she’d known it was too soon to have deep feelings for this guy, but having him so blatantly throw it in her face that last night meant nothing to him left her raw and bleeding inside.

Trembling, she set her coffee aside and headed for the guest room down the hall, wanting only to be alone in her misery. Boy, she sure could pick ‘em, couldn’t she? First Heath, then Jefferson. Now Daveed. Tears stung the back of her eyes and threatened to spill over, no matter how hard she blinked them back. But the last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of these people. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing how deeply they’d hurt her.

Before she made it to her door, however, Daveed was by her side, his voice lower and his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry, habibaty. I didn’t know she was going to be here.”

“Stop it.” She wrenched away from him, uncaring now that hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She was pissed and she would have her say. “Stop calling me your sweetheart, when I’m clearly not. You lied to me. You used me. You’re no better than my parents and Heath, treating me like some kind of pawn to be used and moved around at your whim. Well, I’m sick of it. I’m done letting men walk all over me and leave me with nothing at the end. Fuck you, Daveed Rafik. Fuck you and all your lies.”

“I never lied to you!” he said, his voice edged with tension. “I never once made it seem like last night was anything more than two consenting adults enjoying each other’s bodies for the night.”

She wanted to punch him, right smack in his taut abs. Really she did. But violence was never the answer. And given the way his muscles were all clenched right now he probably wouldn’t feel it anyway. Bastard. Instead she crossed her arms and tapped her bare toes on the cold hardwood floor. “Yep, you’re a real hero, aren’t you? Being all up front and everything before taking me to bed. Let me clue you in on a few things, buddy. Lies of omission are still lies. Just because you mentioned having an arranged marriage when you were a kid, but then failing to tell me that you never actually broke off said engagement doesn’t let you off the hook. Secondly, contrary to what you might think and what the tabloids report about me, I do not sleep with every man I meet. When I give my body to someone, it’s because I care about them. Now, whether or not you return those sentiments does not make them any less real or valid. And I don’t remember you ever uttering the words ‘this is only sex’ anyway.” On a roll now, she stepped closer to him, poking her index finger into his chest and knocking him back a step. “And finally, in case you’ve forgotten, I don’t have anywhere else to go right now. So, until I can find a new place to crash, just stay the hell away from me, all right?” She glanced down the hall to where Shayma was watching the show with clear interest. “Listen to me, Daveed Rafik. You better get your shit together and figure out what the hell it is that you really want in life. Me or her. Your throne or your life here in New York. Because you can’t have both and before long, you’re going to end up with neither if you keep screwing around the way you are.?

?

With that, she walked into the guest room and slammed the door in his stunned face. Then, leaning back against it, Mel slid to the floor and allowed her sobs to escape at last.

* * *

Daveed stood staring at the door for several seconds, unable to wrap his head around what just happened. He’d woken up, so happy and carefree and optimistic about the day. Then he’d walked out into a shitstorm of epic proportions.

Last night with Melody had been incredible. The way she responded to his every touch, the way she held him and touched him and looked at him like he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. The way she made him feel warm and cared for and cherished. All of that and more made him want to keep her close and protect her from anyone or anything that might ever take her away from him, but love?

No. It was too soon for that. He wasn’t looking for that. Only trouble and heartbreak came with that.

As if in confirmation of his thoughts, Shayma came charging down the hall toward him, heels clacking loud on the hardwood and her expression furious. “So, you are sleeping with this woman? What about your promise to me, huh? What about our arrangement? What about our marriage?”

“There is no marriage, Shayma.” He side-stepped around her and headed for the kitchen. Jesus, he hadn’t even had any coffee yet and already the day had gone to hell. Jaw tight, he stood at the counter and fixed a mug of coffee while Shayma continued to berate him from behind. He tuned her out as best he could. The skills of concentration he’d learned on the battlefields of Iraq and Afghanistan were quite useful sometimes in civilian life. “We’ve been over this.”

“No. You’ve been over this. I’ve been kept hidden away on that island waiting for your return and you never, ever came.” She crossed her arms, her expression mulish despite her beauty. “I’m done waiting, Daveed. I want you to give me a date. A date and a location.”

“For what?” he asked, facing her at last, his hips resting against the granite countertop behind him.

“For our wedding.”

“There will be no wedding. How many times do I have to say it and in what language so you will understand?” He shook his head and prayed for calm. “That arrangement was made long ago by our parents. You and I had no say in the matter, no choice. We are both adults now and I refuse to honor that bargain. When I marry, I will marry for love. No other reason.”

“And you love her?” Shayma raised an exasperated hand toward the guest bedroom door. “That American slut who sleeps with anything on two legs? Don’t think I haven’t read the articles about her. About how she ran out on Heath to traipse after her actor lover to Tahiti. This is the kind of woman you crave? The kind of woman you love?”