The Sheikh's Christmas Maid (Shadid Sheikhs 1)

“I’m not sure. I spoke to him yesterday, and he didn’t seem well.”

“Like, he was ill?”

“No. Like he was upset about something. He mentioned that he wanted to see us all together before the end of the year.”

“All of us? Together?”

“My thoughts exactly.” Samir ran his hands lazily over the fabric of the couch and waited for his brother to respond. It was clear that he was just as shocked.

“I’ll talk to him and see what’s going on,” Jarik promised. “Where are you?”

“Nowhere in particular,” Samir lied. The last thing he wanted right now was another lecture. He hesitated a moment. “Stay safe, brother.”

Without bothering to see how Jarik responded, Samir quickly hung up the phone. It was strange that Jarik didn’t know what was going on with his father, but Samir wasn’t worried. Their father probably told Kashif.

Samir had no wish to speak to his older brother. No doubt, Kashif knew where Samir was and why he was there, and if he hadn’t wanted a lecture from Jarik, he certainly didn’t want a lecture from his oldest brother.

Maybe he’d call him tomorrow. Right now, he had more important things on his mind.

Poppy stirred. She was some place warm and dark, but it wasn’t her bedroom. The sheets were far too nice and slid over her body like silk. When she stretched out her leg, it didn’t hang off like it would have with her small mattress.

And it smelled like Samir.

Feeling somewhat drunk, she smiled and burrowed further under the covers. She shouldn’t know what Samir smelled like, but she couldn’t help it. Every time he was near, she breathed him in and wondered what it would be like to be in his arms.

Only she did know what it felt like to be in his arms. Her memories returned in flashes, and her eyes popped wide open.

She’d begged Samir to fuck her.

Embarrassed, she moaned and peeked cautiously out from her spot of safety. At least she was alone.

The towel that Samir had wrapped around her was balled up under the sheets. Pulling it out, she covered herself and slipped out of bed. The sun had set, but the clock told her that she’d only been out for a couple of hours.

Shuffling to the bathroom, she grabbed her clothes, but they were wet and cold from the snow. Annoyed, she glared at them as if it was their fault. She couldn’t go downstairs dressed in a towel, but there was no way in hell she was putting those clothes on again.

Desperate, she opened the closet and stared at the few shirts hanging in the closet. They were big enough to cover all the important bits. Dropping the towel, she pulled a red shirt on and buttoned it up. It hung to her knees.

Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do with her hair, which was a mess of unruly curls. Praying that she didn’t see anyone, she took a deep breath and tiptoed quietly from the room.

Just as she reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs, the front door flew open and Melka and Samir rushed in. They both stopped short and stared at her.

“Uh,” she muttered and stared. “I was just…I meant it’s not….I didn’t have any….I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know why you’re sorry,” Samir whistled. “I think I just died and went to heaven. Melka, call my father. I want this to be the new uniform.”

Poppy moaned in despair as she felt a flush creep to her cheeks. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stared at them. “What were you guys doing out there?”

The men unzipped their jackets. “We were finishing up organizing the shed. Taj was the one who closed the door, by the way. He remembered that he left it open. He didn’t know that you were in there.”

She immediately felt better. “Poor, Taj. He probably feels awful.”

“He does,” Melka said shortly. “I didn’t mention you. I didn’t want him to feel bad.”

Poppy smiled at him. “Thank you. That was kind.”

He growled something under his breath and stomped away. Samir chuckled. “Melka is a good guy but he doesn’t like people to know that. How are you feeling?”

As he took a step toward her, she lowered her eyes. “Like maybe I should be fully dressed before we talk about that,” she whispered.