Read Online Sheikh With Benefits by Teresa Morgan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Teresa Morgan
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
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of fire in the set of her mouth. "What did you say, Your Highness?"
His fist was no longer in his pocket, he realized. He knew he should recover himself and say something diplomatic to her. But his fist was out of his pocket. The spirits of his ancestors, the rebels who broke the republic from the empire whispered in his mind, telling him to take what he wanted and to make it his own no matter the cost.
"Ma'am," he said with great politeness. "I believe what you heard was, 'Fuck them all.'"
She gave him a wide grin. "The best idea I've heard in years," she told him.
"I'm going over there to sweep the woman I love off her feet," he told her. "I intend to make a scene no one here will forget for the rest of their lives. I know perfectly well that my brother has no designs on her, and that she would never think of him that way, but she deserves to know that I will do anything for her, and that she is mine, and that I will fight for her even if I have to create a villain out of thin air to do it. My brother may exile me for damaging his authority. Her father will definitely never approve of the marriage. They—" Here he paused for dramatic effect. "May go fuck themselves."
"An excellent plan." Her eyes danced with the light of a woman half her age. "If I was younger, she might have competition."
Never , he wanted to tell her, but he was a diplomat still. "If you were younger, I would have you both." He paused for a beat. "Perhaps at the same time."
She tittered with delight. "Go to her."
He favored her with a deep bow before striding across the dance floor to fight for the woman who belonged to him, his imaginary robes streaming in a desert wind that wasn't there.
Chapter Eight
"But," His Royal Majesty King Darius the Fifteenth whispered in her ear, "perhaps I do not want you to go back to Ottawa."
Arya felt his hot breath and got shivery. Not because of him, but because his voice was so similar to his brother's. It set off a chain reaction of memory. Javad licking her neck. Javad sucking her breasts. Javad between her thighs.
Exactly why she needed to go away so badly. "Your Majesty, I would be a great help there. I did excellent work for my father, and I know how the Embassy operates. I have years of experience in the office, and both the diplomatic and expatriate community know me."
"You would be a woman on her own," he said, spinning her around to music that didn't register in her mind. "It reflects badly on myself."
She had no choice but to convince Darius to let her go. She couldn't exist under her father's roof any longer and she couldn't marry Sheikh Zakharias. If she had to keep coming to these parties and endure Javad staring her direction like he was now, she would probably expire from embarrassment.
The only alternative was marrying him.
If she knew Javad at all, the man had planned his strategy for the situation last night. First, he'd talk to her, offer her marriage. He would assume she'd agree, and up until she'd talked to her sister, he would have been right. Then, he'd speak to her father. If she refused him, he'd speak to her father anyway. If anyone could convince her to marry Javad, it would have been her father. Once. No more.
While her body and her heart each voted an enthusiastic yes, her mind had a veto. She couldn't tie herself permanently to a man who put restraint above everything else. Who would teach their children to be seen and not heard and would scowl at them for just being themselves. She knew the effect that would have on their personalities all too well, and no way would she let it happen to her kids the way it had happened to her. Her sister was right. Time to strike out on her own.
"But, Your Majesty." She put on her best flirty smile, probably a pale imitation of her sisters', but she'd work on it, she decided. "You could come visit me. In fact, it would be a great insult to Canada if you didn't. Don't think of it as looking bad, think of it as being
His fist was no longer in his pocket, he realized. He knew he should recover himself and say something diplomatic to her. But his fist was out of his pocket. The spirits of his ancestors, the rebels who broke the republic from the empire whispered in his mind, telling him to take what he wanted and to make it his own no matter the cost.
"Ma'am," he said with great politeness. "I believe what you heard was, 'Fuck them all.'"
She gave him a wide grin. "The best idea I've heard in years," she told him.
"I'm going over there to sweep the woman I love off her feet," he told her. "I intend to make a scene no one here will forget for the rest of their lives. I know perfectly well that my brother has no designs on her, and that she would never think of him that way, but she deserves to know that I will do anything for her, and that she is mine, and that I will fight for her even if I have to create a villain out of thin air to do it. My brother may exile me for damaging his authority. Her father will definitely never approve of the marriage. They—" Here he paused for dramatic effect. "May go fuck themselves."
"An excellent plan." Her eyes danced with the light of a woman half her age. "If I was younger, she might have competition."
Never , he wanted to tell her, but he was a diplomat still. "If you were younger, I would have you both." He paused for a beat. "Perhaps at the same time."
She tittered with delight. "Go to her."
He favored her with a deep bow before striding across the dance floor to fight for the woman who belonged to him, his imaginary robes streaming in a desert wind that wasn't there.
Chapter Eight
"But," His Royal Majesty King Darius the Fifteenth whispered in her ear, "perhaps I do not want you to go back to Ottawa."
Arya felt his hot breath and got shivery. Not because of him, but because his voice was so similar to his brother's. It set off a chain reaction of memory. Javad licking her neck. Javad sucking her breasts. Javad between her thighs.
Exactly why she needed to go away so badly. "Your Majesty, I would be a great help there. I did excellent work for my father, and I know how the Embassy operates. I have years of experience in the office, and both the diplomatic and expatriate community know me."
"You would be a woman on her own," he said, spinning her around to music that didn't register in her mind. "It reflects badly on myself."
She had no choice but to convince Darius to let her go. She couldn't exist under her father's roof any longer and she couldn't marry Sheikh Zakharias. If she had to keep coming to these parties and endure Javad staring her direction like he was now, she would probably expire from embarrassment.
The only alternative was marrying him.
If she knew Javad at all, the man had planned his strategy for the situation last night. First, he'd talk to her, offer her marriage. He would assume she'd agree, and up until she'd talked to her sister, he would have been right. Then, he'd speak to her father. If she refused him, he'd speak to her father anyway. If anyone could convince her to marry Javad, it would have been her father. Once. No more.
While her body and her heart each voted an enthusiastic yes, her mind had a veto. She couldn't tie herself permanently to a man who put restraint above everything else. Who would teach their children to be seen and not heard and would scowl at them for just being themselves. She knew the effect that would have on their personalities all too well, and no way would she let it happen to her kids the way it had happened to her. Her sister was right. Time to strike out on her own.
"But, Your Majesty." She put on her best flirty smile, probably a pale imitation of her sisters', but she'd work on it, she decided. "You could come visit me. In fact, it would be a great insult to Canada if you didn't. Don't think of it as looking bad, think of it as being
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