She skidded up to him a moment later, her sweater similarly doused. He ignored how the fabric clung to her breasts. As much as he could, at least.
“Contingency plan is ready,” he said, gripping the handles of his crutches. “We’ll move to the ballroom on the east wing. Can you start heading people that way?”
“Of course.” She flashed a grin and started to go but stopped suddenly. “And just so you know, that was my contingency plan too. You passed the test.”
He resisted the urge to squeeze her waist as she passed by, allowing himself to smile to himself once she was gone. Her voice carried over the din, calling for the children and other event helpers to follow her. While she herded a big group of people toward the back-up plan, Robel waved for Ana, whom he’d spotted wandering around with an arched brow.
“What is going on here?” she asked.
“Change of plans,” he said tersely. “This rain storm was quite unexpected, so we’re going to move everything over to the ballroom. Can you have your staff set up over there?”
“Of course. I think some of the desserts might have been rained on, but we can do our best to replace them.”
Robel thanked her and followed the trail of people heading down the hall. When he reached the ballroom, Sondra was standing on top of a chair, directing people to the appropriate places. She’d already wrangled the unfortunate circumstance into a semblance of control. He watched her for a moment, admiring the strength in her voice, the calmness she oozed despite the chaos.
In moments like these, he was reminded of the calming touch of his mother organizing past Christmases.
There wasn’t a situation that could ruffle her. He could see why his father had chosen her.
Robel crossed the threshold of the ballroom and joined the fray of reorganizing the procession.
12
The day after the musical procession mishap, Sondra walked on eggshells. Every inch of her body trembled with anticipation at seeing Robel, but she didn’t know what to say or how to say it. A large majority of her just wanted to throw herself at him, consequences be damned. Something had shifted between them during yesterday’s event. It wasn’t just the fact that he’d hoisted her against the wall, probably without using pain pills prior.
No, it was something much subtler than that. She’d caught Robel watching her inside the ballroom with something that looked like appreciation. Like maybe, despite his hard-ass, future-ruler exterior, he actually appreciated her contribution. Maybe even had come to rely on it.
He’d disappeared from the event too quickly for her to catch up with him. And like hell would she go seeking him out. Everything was confusing and amiss right now.
But of course, their noontime meet-up loomed. There were plenty of things on today’s agenda to ensure that they wouldn’t dissolve into a mess of roaming hands and lips. Not like Robel would allow that anyway. With her luck, he’d probably just grind up into her and tell her that was that.
She knocked hesitantly on his door, drawing a fortifying breath. What was wrong with some casual sex? Oh yeah, her personal life. His status as the next king. And everything in between.
“Come in.” Robel’s clipped tone made her smirk. She pushed the door open, stepping into his office. He barely glanced at her as she took her seat in front of his desk, which immediately sparked irritation. So this was how he was going to play the game—continue as he had before.
“Good morning,” she said, plopping her files onto his desk. He jolted, meeting her gaze for the briefest of seconds.
“Afternoon,” he corrected, returning to his typing on the computer.
“Whatever.” She sighed, leaning back into the chair. All bets were off now. There was nothing worth hiding anymore. “So why’d you run off so quickly last night?”
“You know I can’t run anywhere,” he muttered.
“Thought maybe you were afraid of seeing me again. You know, like I might stir your passions or something?” She lifted a brow.
He laughed, but it was humorless. “My passions have been sufficiently stirred, thank you. At this point, they need to settle down.”
“Or maybe congeal into a Jell-O mold or…something.” She snorted. “Weird metaphor.”
A grin fluttered across his lips, but it disappeared quickly. A few moments of tense silence crawled by.
“So are we just going to act like there isn’t attraction here?” she ventured, her ears burning. It was hard to be this direct about something so intimate. But at this point? Screw it. She was over the niceties and the pussy-footing. Not just with Robel, but with men altogether in her life.
He grimaced, his dark eyes raking over her. “That’s the best course of action.”
“Ah.” She leaned back in her chair again, dissatisfied with the response. “Great. This will be fun.”
Another ghost of a smile, and then Robel said, “You have a job to do, as do I. And during this busy season, we need to remain focused. And out of the headlines, if at all possible.”
What he said made perfect sense. It was logical, sane, and smart. Only her pussy was protesting, but that would quiet down in time. At least, she hoped so.
Better to just let it go. She would thank herself later.
Instead of continuing that train of thought, Sondra opened her planner, and they got to work. The two of them launched into the next event on the docket: the living nativity scene, the one thing she’d pegged as her pride and joy. This was going the be the pièce de résistance of her time here, and it needed to be excellent. Planning progressed quickly, and by the end of their hour, Robel had already lined up volunteers to come to the palace for casting as the various characters.
But they were on a roll, and planning stretched into two hours and then three. At one point, Robel ordered coffee and cookies to be delivered. Then it was time to assign parts, which segued into a confirmation via email that the purportedly “very cooperative donkey” had been rented for the event. With Nessa on deck to act as the baby Jesus, almost all the details were complete.
All in a day’s work.
“I need a break,” Sondra finally said, checking her watch. It was a quarter to five. “Or maybe it’s just quitting time. Haven’t we achieved enough today?”
Robel consulted his own watch, then pushed up from the office chair. “Almost. But there’s one last detail to see to.”
“What’s that?” Sondra gathered up her papers, filing things back into their proper folders.
“A well-deserved snack.”
“We had cookies earlier.” Her stomach grumbled at the mention of food, but she didn’t want him to know that. Lest their passions be stirred.
“Yes, but we deserve something better than that. We worked very hard today.” He maneuvered around his desk, jerking his chin toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go.”
She didn’t protest and instead packed up her things and held the door open for him while he crutched his way through. His steps clicked and tapped softly down the spacious hall.
“Where are we going?”
“The kitchen,” he said. “Obviously.”
She snorted. “Good. Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t your bedroom.” She paused, judging just how flat the joke had landed. “You know, because of the rules and all.”
She liked teasing him. It came easily and naturally. Almost as easily and naturally as her attraction for him. She nudged him softly. “This is the part where you laugh.”
He snorted, finally. “Very funny. Making fun of my judicious and very mature approach to an uncomfortable situation.”
She grinned, her stride turning into a sashay. She liked that everything was out in the open now. It made things more fun. “Judicious, maybe. But mature would be sucking out every last ounce of fun before time’s up.”
The words had popped out of her mouth before she could think better of it, and the second they floated in the air between them, she cringed. That had been stupid.
“And for what? So we can
both be miserable once you fly back to the United States?”
His words sliced through the air, but all she could hear was I’m falling for you. Maybe that was reading too much into it—or maybe that’s just what she was thinking herself.
Because the only way messing around could make them miserable was if they fell for each other. Was that his concern?
“We wouldn’t be miserable. We’d be satisfied.”
“Among other things.”
They arrived at the double doors of the kitchen. Sondra pushed through, holding the door open for Robel. Inside, the scent of garlic assaulted her in the best way possible. Back against the far wall, Chef Ana mixed something in a bowl while Noel bent over the countertop, studying some papers. The two had become very close in recent times, and Sondra wondered what might be brewing under the surface there.
“Brother.” Robel’s gruff voice held a note of tenderness. Or maybe Sondra was just finally learning to hear the register in which tenderness appeared in his voice. When she’d first met him, she hadn’t believed he had an ounce of tenderness in him. Now, she knew otherwise. It was just hidden well. Under the royal armor.
“There’s my big brother Robel,” Noel said, shoving aside the papers. Ana looked up, smiling at them as she whipped something in her bowl.
“Didn’t expect to find you in here,” Robel said. “What’s the occasion?”
“Ana is experimenting. Care to test?”
Robel’s eyes lit up, his gaze immediately sliding to find Sondra’s. In the dark umber of his eyes, there was something much heavier than trying food. Sondra sent him a private smile, then turned her attention toward Noel and Ana.
“We’d love to,” she said simply, noticing how the use of the word “we” thrilled through her.
Which meant that it was too late.
She was already falling for him…even if he was desperate to suffocate this attraction.
13
After a “snack” of lightly fried dumplings and enough flatbread to feed a small army, Robel and Noel had directed the group conversation to the only true rivalry between them: football. Or as the American women called it, “soccer.”
“Trust me,” Noel said, looking back at Ana. “I have made quadruple the goals that my brother has.”
Ana crossed her arms, looking suspiciously at both of them. “Uh huh. Sure.” To Sondra, she said, “I can’t figure out who’s telling the truth.”
“We need to show them,” Robel insisted. “Once my ankle heals…”
“They’ll see I’m clearly the more skilled football player,” Noel finished.
Robel and Noel loved to rib each other, but the football field was the only area where things got heated between them. Maybe it was better he was still in the cast; otherwise, he probably would have leapt to his feet to show off his footwork skills right here in the kitchen.
“Ridiculous.” Robel squeezed the bars of his crutches, scoffing. “I am the oldest brother and also the best at football. It’s a fact. Ask Father.”
Noel groaned loudly, which sent Sondra into a fit of giggles. Robel shook his head, waving Noel away.
“The truth hurts, brother,” Robel said, fighting a grin. He saw how Ana looked at Noel when Noel spoke, and he had just caught Sondra looking at him much the same way. Here in the brightly lit, stainless-steel sanctuary of the kitchen, surrounded by laughter and family, the truth seared through him: he and Sondra made sense.
As soon as the thought appeared, though, his rational mind arrived to tackle it. Reminding him of the facts. The throne. The obligations. The tradition. Definitely the tradition.
“So Robel is the most skilled with balls,” Sondra teased, leaning against the counter. Ana snort-laughed.
“Hey.” Noel sent Sondra a teasingly severe look. “It’s more than just balls.”
“Yes, I can agree with that,” Ana said, and then both women burst into laughter.
Delight rippled through Robel, and he tried to temper it, to keep it at bay. Noel was in a different position—he wasn’t first in line for the throne. Both he and Yonas enjoyed greater freedoms that way. The throne, to them, was more of an employer and less of a responsibility. Only Robel had to shoulder that burden.
It was clear that Noel and Ana had something going. And maybe it was clear to them that he and Sondra had something as well. Even if Robel actively tried to squelch that something as often as possible.
Ana excused herself to go pick up her baby Linh, and Noel followed her out, using some excuse about paperwork. Sondra and Robel shared a glance once they were left in the quiet of the kitchen.
“I left my folders in your office,” she said, looking over her shoulder toward the double doors. “Did you leave your door open?”
“Let me accompany you,” he said.
“You don’t have to walk all the way back there.”
“It’s no bother.” He didn’t want her to go just yet. He wanted to stay at her side and would use any excuse possible to gain more guilt-free time with Sondra. “I needed to get something from there anyway.” He swallowed, taking a page from Noel’s book. “Some paperwork I left.”
Sondra pushed out of the kitchen, holding the door for him once more, and the two started a slow, thoughtful walk down the main palace hall. Sondra tilted her head back and forth as she looked around, seemingly caught in her own dream space. It was hard not to stare, to just soak in the beauty of her profile.
“What are you thinking about?” Robel ventured.
“Nothing.” A naughty smile crossed her face.
“Hm.” Robel squinted up ahead, his office in sight. “I don’t believe that.”
“I shouldn’t share,” she said, almost breathily. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. “It’s sort of against the rules.”
His cock pulsed, and he knew exactly where this was heading. Where it would absolutely head. Because he’d already started to think with the wrong head.
When they got to his office, Robel fished for his key in the pocket of his linen pants. He pulled it out without taking his eyes off her. “Why don’t you share anyway?”
He pushed the door open, which creaked softly. Sondra didn’t step inside.
“You already said I can’t,” she said, lifting a brow. As though testing him. Testing his willpower.
“I take it back.”
She didn’t move, so he added, “Get in my office.”
Sondra bit at her bottom lip, that naughty smile back on her face. Desire rushed him, hot and fast. He’d die if he didn’t put his hands on her right now, this instant.
“And what are you gonna do in there?”
“Let’s find out. Now go.”
Sondra rolled her lips inward and scooted inside the office. Robel hauled himself inside and shut the door behind him, locking it for good measure. He set the crutches aside. Sondra watched him with a smirk on her face.
“Sit on the desk,” Robel commanded, walking carefully her way. She looked behind her, eyebrow arched.
“Good thing you keep it spick-and-span,” she murmured, sliding onto the wooden surface carefully. Her legs parted, the shiny black fabric of her leggings shimmering under the overhead light. He filled the space between her legs without a second thought, cupping her hips in each hand.
“Yes. Strictly for moments like these,” he said, burying his face in the side of her hair. His heart raced like a jackrabbit’s. He’d missed this. A little too much. Barely seventy-two hours of willpower, down the drain.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to be doing this,” Sondra whispered, fingers trailing up the sides of his arms. There was no conviction in her voice—she was just giving him a hard time.
“We aren’t,” Robel said, kissing her cheek and then her mouth. The scent of her overcame him, melted away the last dregs of his resistance. “But I can’t not. So tell me what you were thinking about.”
She laughed softly as his kisses trailed along her jawline. “You. How hot it was when you picked m
e up against the wall at the event yesterday.”
Robel growled through a kiss, knotting his fingers in the back of her hair. “You don’t know how bad I want to take you like that.”
She tilted her head to the side, allowing him greater access to the length of her jawline. “Too bad it won’t become a reality.”
He grunted, jerking her flush against him, groin to groin. “Want to bet?”
She cocked a smirk, her eyes hooded. “Not with your ankle like it is.”
“Afterward, then.” He brushed his lips over hers again, electricity sparking inside him. She was testing him. And he was failing. “After it heals.”
“Right.” She chuckled throatily, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Just like you said wasn’t allowed.”
“Fuck what I said.” He slid his hands beneath the loose fabric of her sweater, fingertips meeting her warm, soft flesh. He moaned low, burying his face in her shoulder. “I want you right here. On my desk.”
“I wouldn’t say no to that,” she murmured into his ear. He pressed his lips to hers, snagging her bottom lip with his teeth before pulling away.
Robel’s cock pulsed hard and seeking beneath his pants. Sondra snaked her hands between their bodies, stroking the length of him through his pants. He groaned low, grinding into her hand.
“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this?” His eyes were fastened to her hands rubbing him through his pants. Even this was highly erotic—simply because it was her. She made every last cell of his body turn on. Made him realize that he’d actually been dormant for way too long.
“One thousand,” she ventured.
“More.” He caught her lips in a kiss just as she tugged his pants downward, over the bulge of his erection. She fished her hands into the front of his underwear, her cool grip finding the hard heat of his shaft.
“Mmmmm.” He flexed his hips as she fisted him, her small hand on his cock setting him on edge. He thrust into her grip, but in the haze of arousal, forgot about his injured ankle. He winced, pain shooting through his foot. She gasped, gripping the sides of his arms.
Christmas with the Yared Sheikhs: The Complete Series Page 28
