The Sheikh’s Instant Family (The Safar Sheikhs 2)

1

Vanessa Hammerman squinted into the dim expanse of the club. Every so often, the carpeted path weaving between the tightly clustered tables lit up under the sweep of a strobe light. Disco balls offered scant illumination. Serving girls in tight outfits and short skirts flitted by, beautiful shadows under the pulsing thrum of the electronic music.

And here she was, in the VIP section, a very nonalcoholic and very empty cranberry juice spritzer in front of her.

She’d come to this club a thousand times in her life. And in more recent times, this had become her meet-up place with Amad. Her sexy Middle Eastern lover. The man who had punctuated her whirlwind life in Vegas in a way that she might never forget.

Amad was out getting refills. He didn’t seem to notice that she’d specifically asked for no alcohol tonight, even though most nights she rocked cosmopolitans like it was her job. Vanessa smiled down at her glass. She and Amad weren’t serious, not by a long stretch. Life was just fun at his side.

She wanted it to stay that way.

“Excuse me?” A sharp feminine voice cut through her thoughts. Vanessa looked up, finding a busty waitress leaning down over the table. “Your boyfriend says he needs you on the dance floor.” The waitress set down two full drinks and then jutted her thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll leave your drinks here.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Vanessa said weakly, though it was more out of habit than any real need to correct the waitress. Nobody cared here. Much less this woman.

“What?” the waitress asked over the throbbing music.

“Thank you!” Vanessa said, louder this time, and scooted past her. She weaved her way down the aisle, heading for the dance floor, where countless heads could be seen shifting under the liquid flow of the lights.

Amad was out here, in this sea of human bodies, and normally, Vanessa was more than happy to meet him in the middle of it all.

But tonight, she just wanted some quiet, a warmly lit place to meet up so she could get some things off her chest.

The moment she caught sight of Amad’s ear-to-ear grin, both index fingers making that come here gesture that she couldn’t refuse, her hips were swaying in time with the music. It didn’t matter that she was anxious or tired or distraught. None of that mattered on the dance floor. Amad’s grin tugged her forward, through the last vestiges of resistance. He snagged her hands in his and soon they were bumping and swaying in time.

Amad pressed his warm cheek to hers. He didn’t speak—didn’t need to—yet she swore they were communicating. It had always been like that with him. Even though they’d only been hanging out for three months, sometimes it felt like three years. Serious or not, they had real chemistry. An intensity that could gut her if he looked at her in a certain way.

She let herself fall into the music. Their sweaty foreheads met, serious gazes broken by childish grins as they both danced and danced and danced.

This was what she loved about Amad. She could always live in the moment with him. He was the most fun of anyone. Always.

God, she hoped that didn’t change.

“Let’s take a breather,” she finally said, once countless electronic songs had come and gone under the spell of their dancing. Amad nodded and followed her off the dance floor. She led them back to their seats in the VIP section, their drinks untouched. She collapsed in front of her cranberry spritzer with a sigh. Amad tossed back his gin and tonic and immediately flagged down another waitress.

“You’re so sexy when you dance, Vanessa,” Amad said into her ear once the waitress had gone. “I don’t know why you stopped.”

“Just kinda tired,” she said, figuring he couldn’t sense the worry flicking through her.

“You and I,” he said, “we should get out of Vegas sometime. I mean really out. Have you ever thought about that?” He shouted over the din of the music, though compared to the dance floor, their seats were practically in a quie

t zone. “We should go to Ibiza sometime. I went to the craziest party in Ibiza once. I even won a boxing competition there. I could probably get us a free meal just by flashing my trophy, not gonna lie.”

Vanessa snorted with laughter. Amad was no stranger to world travel and fantastical stories. “Was that with or without alcohol involved?”

“Without, without. Or maybe with. So when is good for you? Ibiiiiza.” He massaged her thigh under the table. “Come on, baby. Let’s set a date. I bet you’d be fun to travel with. Imagine all the seaside sex.”

It was hard not to get lost in the caramel swirl of his gaze. Amad had a heat that regularly intoxicated her. Saying no to him was never an option. Nor was disturbing this precarious balance of fun and lightness. They were dating, sure, but they weren’t anything serious.

Because who wanted to be the girl who brought that loaded topic up? Vanessa knew better than to expect he’d want anything long-term. Nobody did. Not a single man in her life had stayed, from her daddy on up.

Even the news she had to share with him didn’t convince her that he’d stay. More than anything, it would probably make him bolt.

“Let’s talk about dates later,” she said, nuzzling her shoulder into his.

“We’ll need to set it soon,” Amad said, pinching one eye shut to give her a half-drunken stern look. “I’m going home soon to see my brothers for some business, and I don’t want this to conflict. Ibiza can’t conflict.”

“My schedule is wide open, babe,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. She loved coming out with him. He was so fun and spontaneous, but also so affectionate. He didn’t want to hide the fact that they were dating, or fucking, or whatever it was they were doing. That’s what she’d miss the most, if he chose to end things—the way it seemed like he actually loved being with her.

Sadness pinged through her. She loved being with him. Three short months and already he was the best man she’d ever known. The funnest. The sexiest. She had a whole scroll of words reserved just for him.

She didn’t want him to leave. To leave her behind. But she had to get the words out of her mouth. She had to tell him.

“Amad—" she began.

“I’m trying to get this meeting with a huge, like…department store,” Amad said. “It’s huge. And high-end. I’m trying to get my family’s clothing line in stores around the world, see.” He wet his bottom lip as he studied the other side of the club. “They’ll set the date. It’s all up to them. This is just my chance to bring something new to my tribe, you know?”

Vanessa smiled up at him. He tended to spill his business dealings when he’d had a few drinks, which was cute. This wasn’t the first time he’d referenced his tribe, though. Amad was trendy, but that part always stuck out to her as a bit too trendy. Why didn’t he just call them his friends and family?

“What if your tribe was about to get bigger?” she asked, heart racing suddenly. Here it was. She was going to tell him. She just had to say it.

“My tribe is always getting bigger,” he said.