Frowning and now doubly curious, she picked up the box and tore into it. Then she looked back to him as she pulled out a small charm made in the shape of a padlock yet coated with thick Tiffany diamonds.
“What is it?”
“May I?” he asked, gesturing to her neck.
She nodded and lifted up her blond waves so that he could put the necklace on her. Jennifer shuddered a bit as she felt his hands so near her, as she smelled that turmeric teasing her nose. God, she’d even missed the spiciness of him.
“So, what is it?” she asked, letting her hair down and leaning back into his embrace.
“It means,” he said, “that I still remember that day on the bridge in Paris. I want us to always be together, to be truly married. You already have my great-grandmother’s ring on your finger.”
She gasped and held up her left hand. “I had no idea it was an heirloom. You didn’t have to do that at first.”
He kissed her cheek. “I wanted to, but now you have a memento from me,” he said, letting her go and crossing around to her front. Then Bahan made her tear up as he got to his knees. “Will you stay married to me, my wild one? Will you be by my side a year from now, or a dozen?”
“For forever?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“Yes, forever,” he said, standing back up to face her fully.
Jennifer nodded and then gladly accepted his kiss, loving the feel of his tongue tangling with hers and reveling in the fact that this was just the beginning of such love, such tenderness.
“So we have forever?” he asked again, as if even he hadn’t believed her.
She could understand that. She had so much to make up for. Reaching up, she stroked his goatee and then kissed him long and hard. He was hers and she was his, and that was as it always would be, until the end of their lives and beyond.
The End!
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Sheikh's Revenge
By: Sophia Lynn and Jessica Brooke
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Sheikh’s Revenge
By: Jessica Brooke and Ella Brooke
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright 2015-2016 Jessica Brooke
Chapter One
“Zahir,” Clayton McDermott said, shaking the man’s hand. “I’m so glad you were able to make it all the way out here for the merger meeting. Frankly, I assumed that for something this by the book, you’d be sending Fairuza instead.”
Sheikh Zahir Amun smiled tightly back at the manufacturing mogul. Yes, it was unlike him to travel for these things. He felt that Amun Petrol did best when he was in Dubai and overseeing everything with eagle eyes. Maybe he’d never heard of the art of delegation, at least not completely. While he trusted his sister with his life, Zahir was well aware of how oily and difficult Clayton could be to deal with. He was a man who was eternally wriggling out of deals and was as likely to pat you on the back as shiv you in it. Yet the Boston businessman had access to some of the best steel refineries in the States, and Amun desperately needed those resources to help update his oil pipes. Dealing with the devil was the best thing they could hope for, but Zahir still didn’t trust him.
“We’re opening a new well outside of Al Ain, and there’s no one I trust more to put the fear of Allah in the workers than my sister. No one in our family appreciates being trifled with,” he said, and he let his grin ease closer to a snarl. Zahir wanted Clayton to understand that double-dealing was a poor choice when the Amun family’s reputation was on the line.
“What a shame. She’s a lovely woman,” the other man said, breaking the handshake apart and smoothing back his bright blond hair. Clayton’s hair was overly processed and shiny, just like everything else about him, and Zahir was vaguely reminded of the American newscasters and their coiffed looks. Again, so much artifice when dealing with the other man.
“Indeed.”