Chapter 3 #2
The third was beautiful but beige.
I’d worn enough beige in corporate life.
Then I tried on the blue one.
Deep sapphire silk skimmed my breasts, narrowed at my waist, and fell smoothly over my hips to my ankles. The neckline dipped enough to be unmistakably evening without making me feel exposed, and the color turned my eyes almost painfully blue.
I studied my reflection.
My stomach was still soft, my hips still wide, and my breasts still very much present.
None of that changed when I turned sideways.
But the dress didn’t ask me to hide any of it.
I looked good.
Actually, I looked very good.
“I’ll take this one.”
The stylist smiled.
“Excellent choice.”
Back upstairs, I showered again, redid my hair, and applied the makeup I’d packed in a rush because apparently some part of me had believed mascara would become strategically important in Dubai.
At seven fifty-five, I stood in front of the mirror. Sapphire silk skimmed my body beneath bare shoulders, my strawberry-blonde waves fell down my back, and my freckles were still visible.
I almost changed my mind about the dress.
Then I remembered Tariq looking at me yesterday after I told him I was nervous. He hadn’t told me I shouldn’t be nervous or pushed me; he’d listened.
I picked up my small bag and left the guest wing.
***
The rooftop terrace looked different at night.
The city spread below in glass and light, but the dinner table had been set farther from the edge near the planters, where the space felt private rather than theatrical.
Candles flickered inside low glass holders.
There was no orchestra, flower wall, or line of staff waiting as though I were arriving for a coronation, just a beautiful table for two beneath the open night sky, with discreet fans stirring the heavy summer air.
Tariq stood when I stepped outside.
His attention moved over me slowly, and awareness prickled across my bare shoulders.
He wore dark trousers and an open-collar black shirt, the sleeves fastened neatly at his wrists. Without the suit jacket and room full of executives, he looked less corporate but no less powerful, and definitely no less dangerous to my decision-making.
“You chose that.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, I did.”
His eyes returned to my face.
“You look beautiful.”
Warmth spread across my cheeks.
“Thank you.”
One of the attendants stepped forward and drew back my chair while Tariq waited until I was seated before taking his own.
Staff poured water and left us with the first course, then retreated far enough that I no longer felt watched.
I glanced at the table.
“You resisted feeding twelve people.”
“This required negotiation.”
“I’m impressed.”
“You shouldn’t be. The kitchen sent enough food for six.”
“That sounds more familiar.”
He smiled.
Dinner began with small plates: grilled prawns, warm flatbread, vegetables bright with herbs and citrus.
We talked about work first.
“The second campaign direction is stronger,” Tariq said.
“I know.”
His brows lifted.
I took a bite of prawn.
“Sorry. Was I supposed to pretend to be modest?”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Good.”
“I was going to say you were right to defend it.”
“That’s much better.”
He smiled.
“And dangerously close to praise.”
“I can withdraw it.”
“You’re too late.”
I smiled into my water.
The next course arrived.
By the time the plates were cleared, his attention kept catching on my lips, mine kept dropping to his hands, and every silence stretched a beat too long.
Dessert appeared in small glass dishes with cream, pistachio, and jewel-bright pomegranate seeds.
I looked at mine.
“You’ve found a food even more dangerous than melon.”
“You mean pomegranate?”
“It has projectile potential.”
“I’ll alert security.”
I laughed.
Tariq picked up one ruby-red seed between his fingers.
My smile faded.
He held it toward me.
“May I?”
A prickle ran down the back of my neck.
I could’ve taken the seed from him.
Instead, I leaned forward.
“Yes, you may.”
He touched the seed lightly to my lower lip.
I opened my mouth.
His fingers didn’t enter.
They didn’t need to.
I took the pomegranate from him and bit down.
Sweetness burst over my tongue.
Tariq’s attention stayed on my face as I swallowed.
My pussy ached beneath the silk.
“That’s unfair,” I said.
“What’s unfair?”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Yes, I do.”
He didn’t joke or apologize.
I pressed my thighs together beneath the table.
I picked up a seed from my own dish.
“Then open your mouth.”
His shoulders went still.
He did.
I leaned across the table and pressed the seed to his lips.
Tariq took it slowly.
His mouth brushed the pad of my finger.
A shiver ran through me.
“That was also unfair,” he said.
“Good.”
The attendants cleared dessert several minutes later.
When we were alone again, Tariq poured water into my glass.
“Tell me something.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It isn’t.”
“Your track record with questions says otherwise.”
He leaned back.
“You know I’m Qadiran.”
“I know now.”
“My family is part of the ruling house.”
That explained the title in a way CEO never could.
“You’re actually royal.”
“I am.”
I blinked at him.
“I probably should’ve researched you more thoroughly.”
“I’m pleased you didn’t.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you’ve spoken to me like I’m Tariq, not a title.”
“You told me I could.”
He gave me a faint smile.
“That isn’t the same as doing it.”
I thought about the breakfast attendant going rigid because I’d called him Tariq.
“I can imagine.”
He looked down briefly at his glass.
“For most of my life, there have been assumptions attached to marriage.”
A knot formed low in my stomach.
“What kind of assumptions?”
“That I would eventually marry. That there would be children. Heirs.”
The word sent a strange little pulse through me.
I took a drink of water.
“And you never wanted that?”
“I always assumed it would happen eventually.”
“That sounds romantic.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
I smiled faintly.
He continued.
“I simply had no interest in choosing a wife because she was appropriate.”
“Have you been with other women?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Were they serious?”
“No, they weren’t.”
“And what about now?”
His gaze held mine.
“Now I’ve met a woman I want in my life in ways I’ve never wanted anyone before.”
My heart gave one hard thump.
“I’m not asking you for an answer.”
“That’s a very large thing to say when I still have a return flight in three days.”
“I know.”
“This is fast.”
“I know that too.”
I looked away toward the lights beyond the terrace.
The city glittered below us, huge enough to make my life in Omaha feel very far away.
“I don’t understand how you can be this certain.”
“You don’t need to understand it tonight.”
I looked back.
“What do you need?”
“Nothing you don’t want to give me.”
I pressed my thumb against the cool stem of my glass.
He waited without moving closer or reaching for me.
“I want you.”
My belly went warm.
“But I leave in three days,” I continued. “You’re the client. I’m living in your home. This is faster than anything I would normally trust.”
“I know.”
“I keep saying that.”
“And I’ll keep hearing you.”
I drew a slow breath.
“What happens if I sleep with you?”
“You mean tonight?”
“Yes, I mean tonight.”
“Tomorrow, you go to work, and nothing about your room, your transportation, or StayWell changes because we slept together.”
“What about you?”
His voice lowered.
“I still want you.”
My pulse jumped.
“That wasn’t exactly what I meant.”
“It’s the answer that matters.”
He rose.
My breath caught.
Tariq came around the table and stopped in front of me.
He didn’t touch me.
“What do you want tonight, Chrissy?”
The skin beneath my dress prickled.
I tipped my face up to him.
“I want you.”
His hand came to the side of my neck.
He moved slowly enough that I could move away.
I didn’t.
He kissed me.
My hands went to his chest as his mouth opened over mine, and the first sweep of his tongue erased every reasonable thought I’d brought to dinner.
I rose from the chair.
Tariq pulled me against him.
His body was hard everywhere mine was soft, and the contrast made a moan slip out of me.
He broke the kiss just long enough to look at my face.
“Do you still want this?”
“Yes, I do.”
His mouth came back to mine.
We crossed the terrace badly, unwilling to stop touching each other long enough to walk like civilized adults.
Inside the residence, he led me through the opposite corridor from my guest wing.
He was taking me to his rooms.
My heart pounded harder with every step.
The bedroom was enormous, all dark wood, soft amber light, and tall windows above a wide bed.
Tariq closed the door.
Then he stopped.
We were both breathing too hard.
His attention moved down my body.
“Before this goes farther, I need to ask you something.”
My stomach gave a hard little twist.
“What do you need to ask?”
“Are you using contraception?”
I blinked.
The question cut cleanly through the heat.
“No. I’m not on anything that would prevent pregnancy.”
His expression didn’t change.
Tariq stepped closer but still didn’t touch me.
“If I fuck you without a condom, you could become pregnant.”
My thighs pressed together.
“I know.”
“I need more than that.”
My breath shook once.
“I understand the risk.”
“Do you want a condom?”
I met his eyes.
“No, I don’t.”
His throat worked once.
“I don’t want one.”
“Tell me because you mean it, not because you think it’s what I want to hear.”
Three days ago I’d been in Omaha, yesterday I’d kissed him, and tonight I was standing in his bedroom telling a sheikh I wanted him inside me without protection.
I wanted exactly that.
“I mean it.”
He exhaled slowly.
“I want you without one.”
His hand finally settled at my waist.
“And if we do this bare, you understand I may come inside you.”
A hard pulse went through my pussy.
“Yes, I understand.”
“You want that too?”
“Yes, I want that.”
He kissed me hard enough that I stumbled into him.
His hand caught the back of my neck while the other moved over my hip, gathering sapphire silk.
I caught the front of his shirt.
“Take this off me.”
He kissed my jaw.
“You chose this dress.”
“Yes, I did.”