Chapter 9
I don’t know what came over me to challenge him like that, but now it doesn’t matter, because I can’t think clearly. My brain is jelly.
He looks angry and intimidating, but suddenly, to my surprise, I notice him taking a deep breath.
“Your skin smells like flowers,” I hear him say, and I close my eyes for a few seconds, a shiver of pleasure running through my body as I detect the huskiness in his voice.
I know it’s wrong. More than that, Kamal is off-limits to me in every way, but it’s hard to have him so close and not be affected.
His large, strong body makes me feel feminine, makes me long to be under his control.
What’s wrong with me? I ran away precisely to avoid fitting into someone’s mold.
A little voice in the back of my mind, however, warns me that the control I desire from Kamal has nothing to do with taking charge of my life. It’s raw desire. Carnal need.
“You can’t say those things to me,” I repeat what I told him the day we met.
“I can do anything,” he replies arrogantly, and it only turns me on even more.
I open my eyes and meet the steel glint in his. Kamal’s intensity is irresistible.
He knows what I’m thinking and feeling. He’s too wise not to notice.
Take a few breaths, you fool, I reprimand myself. Snap back to reality.
The problem is, the way Kamal looks at me makes it clear what he wants from me. I don’t need to be experienced to understand that’s an invitation to luxurious sex, a promise of delightful pleasures.
He gives me a slow, devastating grin, and I have no doubt that he knows how much he affects me.
“No.” I force myself to react and take a step back. “You can’t, not with me.”
He approaches me like a tiger, a predator stalking its prey, and my heartbeat quickens. His gaze lowers to the level of my breasts, and I wish a hole would open under me so I could hide because I know what he sees: my hardened nipples against the fabric of the dress not even the lace bra can hide.
“I can, but I would never force you, Madeline. It’s not my style to take women who don’t admit to themselves what they want. If . . .” He pauses. “Or rather, when you come to me, it will be a thought-out decision.”
I close my eyes again. I can’t control it, and the image of the two of us in a bedroom, without our clothes as a barrier, invades my mind.
I remember his hands. They are as large and strong as the Sheikh himself.
What would it feel like to have them on my body?
I hear a groan, and when I open my eyes, I realize it’s him. His eyes are darker now, almost cruel.
“You’re sending me mixed messages, Madeline. Your words say one thing, but your body says another.”
My heart races because I know he’s telling the truth. Before I have to come up with a lie, though, a knock on the door makes me leap away from him.
“Your Excellency, you have a meeting in ten minutes on the twentieth floor,” Sinara, his secretary, informs him.
As if we weren’t caught in a sexy trance just seconds ago, his face turns into a mask of indifference. “You heard her, Madeline. Meet me there,” he commands, dismissing me.
After exposing how attracted I am to my boss, I force myself to stay focused throughout the meeting.
As he explained, I don’t need to pay attention to the matters that are being discussed because there are two secretaries taking notes.
My duty is to analyze Kamal’s behavior and inform him later if he was rude in any way during his interactions.
So far, I haven’t seen anything that could be considered rude. He is certainly assertive. When he says something, there is no room for ambiguity, but he never raises his voice.
I wonder what goes through people’s minds while negotiating with him because the man is incredibly intimidating. Like a king, he conveys the message that everyone must obey him.
I see him conclude the meeting and wait for everyone to leave. Despite being embarrassed by our little exchange earlier, I need to ask him what I should wear to the party tomorrow so I can find an appropriate dress.
He didn’t spare a glance in my direction during the entire meeting, so I’m quite nervous when the last person leaves and closes the door.
“You have nothing else to do here, Miss Turner.”
“Isn’t it Madeline, Your Excellency?” It’s imprudent of me to ask, even though I’m ashamed of momentarily giving in to the physical attraction I feel for him, we need to deal with it like adults.
“What do you want, Madeline?”
“Well, first of all, I must tell you that you were just rude in that excessively direct question. The proper way to address me would be to say: ‘How may I assist you, Madeline?’“
I hear him sigh as I gather my notes together. When I look back at him, he’s not angry as I thought he would be—he’s almost smiling.
“You’re quite cheeky, Miss Turner.”
This time, when he addresses me like that, I understand it as provocation.
“Occasionally, my Sheikh.”
His smile fades, and his eyes grow darker again.
I quickly stand up before I fall back into the ridiculous role of being just another admirer of the Tempting Sheikh. “I waited for everyone to leave because I want to ask you about the party tomorrow.”
“What about it?”
“I have no idea how I should dress for the occasion. I didn’t think about it when I was hired. I brought only one evening gown, but even if I had brought others, I couldn’t wear them. So I would appreciate it if you could give me some guidance because I don’t want to embarrass you.”
“Why is it that you couldn’t wear the ones you had at home, in the United States?”
“They are very . . . uh . . . inappropriate for work events.”
He shifts in his chair. “Inappropriate how?”
“Suggestive cleavage. Thigh-high slits. My mother picked them out for me, but they don’t suit me.”
His forehead creases. “Why would she do something like that?”
“She wanted me to impress potential suitors,” I answer honestly, “although I never intended to marry any of them.”
“Because you’re too young?”
“Because I won’t get married unless it’s for love,” I explain, awkwardly. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, if you could either recommend me a store or have one of the secretaries recommend one for me where I can find an appropriate outfit, I would be grateful.”
He stares at me for a few seconds, and I have the feeling that he’s fighting an internal battle before saying, “I’ll do better than that. I’ll give you a whole new wardrobe.”
“What? No! I can’t accept that!”
“Did I give you the impression that you had a choice in the matter, Madeline? You don’t. I’ll ask Christos to close one of his stores so we can buy everything you need.”
“Oh my God! How did I not think of that before? Christos! Yes, I don’t need your help. I’m such a fool. I just need to call Zoe, and she’ll take care of everything. I did talk to my cousin, but I don’t think either of us thought about how easy it would be to solve my problem.”
“You won’t do that. As I told you, you have no choice, Madeline. I will accompany you on the shopping trip.”