The Sheikh's Surprise Mistress 3 (Jatar Sheikh 7)

Amir took his time joining us. With a muttered, “Female,” he picked up my hand and we left the penthouse floor. The attendee didn’t say a word, but his cheeks were tinted so I knew he’d picked up on our sexual tension.

***

The days sped by, and each one was filled with more preparation for the big day. We hosted five large dinners for attending dignitaries on the five nights just before the big day. I met more influential and powerful people than I even knew existed on the planet. Royal couples from all corners of the globe were there to rejoice in our wedding. I remained wide eyed and overwhelmed, but I put forth a brave veneer and did my best to act the part of future queen.

Amsi was surprisingly social and loved meeting and then wooing every straight-laced dignitary that came through our doors. Even the apparent child haters would crack a smile and either tickle his double chin or comment on his strong grip as he clung to their finger with his chubby fist. He was a born statesman, and I had this odd sense he would know all of these world leaders, and their children, in the years to come. I found it strange he seemed to be cultivating memorable relationships even before he could talk.

While in bed I commented on it to Amir, “Your son seems comfortable with his celebrity status.”

Amir bumped his chest, “Yes indeed, he was born to the station. This pleases me immensely.” He stroked my cheek and tenderly kissed me. “How is the mother doing? I see the strain in your eyes—the set of your jaw—are you okay?”

I shrugged. “As good as can be expected. I wasn’t born for this—steep learning curve.”

“You are doing splendidly, my love. Some of them are commoners thrust into this world through marriage—they understand.”

I snorted and to my own ears I sounded indignant. “You’re so fucking arrogant sometimes!”

He looked confused, “I was only speaking the truth. What would you have me call you?”

I waved him on and muttered, “Whatever.”

He grabbed my wrist, “Julie, no! Don’t shut me out. Tell me what to call you? Soon I shall simply refer to you as my wife and the mother to my children. You of all people prefer truth. You are a commoner. Not born into high society.”

“Alright, you’re right. Sorry. I’m just overly sensitive about all my lack. I don’t know what to call me. I just think of the term commoner with a negative connotation—I guess it’s apt enough. Sorry.” My tone was still abrupt and dismissive, and he only shook his head in dismay.

“All that matters is I adore you beyond all comprehension. This is a joining of love! Who cannot comprehend this joy?” He made me look at him with a finger under my chin. “Perhaps I should punish you again?” Now he was trying to alleviate the tension between us, and I knew it. I lifted one eyebrow and gave him a stern look.

He lifted and bobbed both his eyebrows and tucked my hand into his, “I so enjoyed punishing you.”

I mumbled and then couldn’t help giggling, “It really wasn’t a punishment.”

“Indeed, princess.”

We both made snickering sounds at knowing what punishment really meant.

Chapter Eight

Our wedding day finally arrived, and I spent literally all day in preparations. There was a team to beautify me and do my hair. Another team to fit me into the dress which needed to be sewn onto my body. And yet another team helping Anna prepare along with getting both the boys dressed in the tiniest little tuxedos I’d ever seen. They were going to be pushed down the aisle by Omar, and Amsi was going to have the ring on his wrist, secured by a ribbon. We were hopeful that if we kept them together in the double stroller, neither would make much of a fuss.

Amsi was the cutest little doll I could have ever imagined, and my heart swelled. He was decked out in the finest Armani tux and even had teeny back patent leather shoes. Bob was dressed the same, but was considerably bigger than my still developing preemie, so he wasn’t quite as adorable as the little mini-me decked out just like his daddy.

I’d not seen Amir for two days. He had to fly home and attend to some matters, and we’d decided to make our wedding night something special. Needless to say, over forty eight hours without his hands on me was more than enough, and I c

ouldn’t wait to see him again. I figured our hotel suite was going to get quite a workout, as well, since he never went two whole days without sex. Just at the thought of our evening, my cheeks tinted.

I was tired from all the prepping, however, and ordered a mocha triple expresso shot which would hopefully wake me up. Anna joined me, but asked for a decaf version. I gave her a questioning glance. She grinned and patted her tummy. “I hope this one is a girl, but I want a few more, so another boy would make Omar happier. What is it with the men and their boy children?”

“I dunno—Amir is the same way,” I said with a slight eye roll. “Not that I would know what to do with a girl. I’ll have to send her to you to learn all the feminine stuff. I’d give her a blank stare if she asked me for her first doll.”

“Oh, I love dolls! It’s the outfits!” Anna squealed.

“Yeah, well I was a reader from as soon as I could—either that or sports. I was such a tomboy growing up. I was probably headed toward being a lesbian. At least, thinking back.”

Anna snickered, “Yeah, but you like the pole too much.” I snorted so hard I almost got coffee on the dress. It was so funny for Anna the forever a virgin to talk that way.

The best I could do was grin and respond, “Truth sista!”

As we sipped our hot beverages, Anna asked, “Isn’t this a fairy tale?”