The Sheikh's Surprise Mistress (Jatar Sheikh 5)

It sounded all wrong when he threw my words back at me in his uber-sexy masculine accented voice. I sucked in the side of my mouth, trying not to laugh. I managed a strangled, “Yeah, I guess. Yeah…”

He continued, seeming incredibly sincere. “Julie—this is not—just a thing! How long before you admit the same?”

I blinked at him and decided he was right, and I was wasting time. “I have to tell you something.”

He gave me an expression indicating I needed to go on. I opened my mouth, but the words stuck. I felt the warm tears as they slid down my cheeks, and I started shaking my head. I cry-talked for a few seconds, and I knew he didn’t understand a word I said. I finally ran to my bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it from the inside.

He knocked and asked me to open the door. I cry-shrieked that I needed a few moments alone. I heard his footsteps as he returned to the living room. I laid on my bed and wept for far too long. I knew there was no escaping this inevitable future. A future I had never planned nor dreamt of living. But it was looming, and I knew I had to live it—with him. I cried for all that I was giving up. Part of me also cried for all that I was gaining.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Amir knocked on my door and announced, “I am going to my hotel. You will join me for dinner this evening. A car will pick you up at seven.”

I didn’t reply. I looked at the clock and sagged back against my bed. I had hours and decided I needed a nap. I knew I had to meet him. If I didn’t, he would come and carry me out. Or he’d just enter and fill my apartment with more of his powerful self.

How was I going to tell him? I didn’t want him to feel as if I were playing him or as if I were trying to snag my own sheikh. I wasn’t. I actually wished I’d never gone down that road—never let him touch me. I thought back and wondered how things might have gone if I’d never let him near me. I replayed my memories from the first moment I saw him—looking at me like a hunter and I was in his sights.

The first time our eyes locked, I knew. I had to be honest with myself. It was one of those moments when time stands still or moves in slow motion. Just him and me as the rest of the room faded away into oblivion. I felt the weight of his gaze as if he’d touched me. Even Anna had felt it from across their table that night. What had I said to her? I was defiled—contaminated—a man like him would never want a woman like me. What a crock. I was grasping at straws even then.

Amir and I were probably meant to be. One of those stupid love stories where no matter how hard we try, we can’t stay apart. I still fought within myself. Hoping against hope that I could magically be okay without him in my life. Still full of numerous doubts—way more than I had hopes it would work out.

I struggled to make myself presentable. My eyes were so puffy and swollen I really couldn’t do much with them. I washed and straightened my hair, and I put on a denim skirt that hit me mid-thigh. Instead of heels, I wore a tall pair of leather boots and no nylons. I tried on every bra I owned, but none fit my new much larger breasts. So I opted for a tank top under a sweater.

I descended the stairs promptly at five to seven, and as promised a limo was waiting. The driver was just co

ming around the car and nodded at me, “Miss Stanley?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent, His Majesty sent me.”

His Majesty? I was suddenly re-petrified, and my legs shook as I walked to the waiting open door. I expected to be alone, but one large man sat in the passenger seat in the front. He looked over his shoulder and gave me one quick nod before the privacy glass rose and I was alone in the cavernous vehicle. I noticed the bar with decanters full of golden and amber liquids, probably the best on earth. I could so go for a drink—or ten—right now. Then I remembered my pregnancy and halted my progress to the liquor I so desperately needed.

My hands were still shaking when the limo came to a halt in front of an exclusive bistro in downtown Boston. I’d eaten here once when Anna’s dad was in town and took us all out. Otherwise, I could never afford to eat in a place like this. When the door opened, a large hand was proffered to help me out. I knew it was Amir, and I gratefully set my hand in his. Almost instantly, my entire body settled. His calming effect on me was a truly miraculous thing.

He held my hand and let his eyes travel over my semi-casual outfit. “You are the most beautiful woman in the entire world.”

I pfffffted at him and he grinned. Then he traced a finger across my cheek, and my eyes went half-mast. I sighed and whispered, “How do you do that?”

“Do what, my princess?”

I blinked as I refocused on his handsome face, “Calm me instantly.”

His expression was one of extreme satisfaction. “There is no greater gift a man can give his female. You should take that as an omen.”

I pffffted again and he chuckled, and we went into the restaurant. Our table was private and candle lit, and when he pulled my chair around so that I was sitting directly next to him—not acres away—I knew he was not going to play any games with my fragile state of mind. I sat and smoothed my skirt, and my hands started shaking again.

He ordered wine, and I was about to decline, but decided I would pretend to sip at it. I still wasn’t ready to tell him. Besides, wine was allowed during pregnancy in small doses—at least, I thought I remembered that little tidbit. Or I wanted to remember that because I sorely needed something to settle my nerves and dim this quickly erupting anxiety attack.

He asked me what I felt like eating. This surprised me. I told him I could go for an entire cow, making him laugh.

He turned his chair and picked up my hand, his knees touched along the outside of my thigh. “Julie, I am sorry if I upset you earlier.”

My tone was way too airy, “You didn’t—I mean it’s okay—I mean, not your fault—hormones, you know? Being a girl is a tough road to hoe.”

His face took on a way too serious expression, “You were going to tell me something?”

“Um, no—um, just that—well, Amir?” He lifted his brows as I continued to sound like a retard unable to form coherent sentences. “I like you, too.”