Pregnant by the Sheikh

by Olivia Gates

  “Think happy thoughts. At least nothing vicious. Zee and Fay can’t withstand a drop of your aggression.”

  “Zee and Fay, eh? You don’t expect me to call them that?”

  “Why not? And I’m Jen, by the way.”

  “No. You’re Jenan.”

  Her smile widened at his proprietorial attitude as she again wondered how she adored things from him that she’d abhorred from others. “All my life, when anyone called me Jenan, always meaning madness, they regretted it.”

  “You’re my Jenan. My madness. Anyone else who trifles with your name and that meaning of it will regret it.”

  “Don’t go all Terminator on me, or I will end up without relatives.”

  “Relatives who provoke you and sneer at your name and character? They certainly deserve terminating.”

  “Let me fight my own battles, okay?”

  His ominous expression eased as he bowed his head in concession. “Until you call on my intervention.”

  She rewarded his newfound flexibility with a loving nip of his chin. As he groaned, tried to deepen the intimacy, she pulled away with a sigh of regret.

  “About Zee and Fay... Since they were babies, they adored that I came up with abbreviations for their names. Especially Fayza. She hates her name even more than I do mine.”

  “You’re more a mother to them than an older sister.”

  It was a statement. A very astute one. Though the girls’ mother—her stepmother—was alive and well, she wasn’t maternal in the least, and she’d left both girls to the care of relatives and hired help from birth. Jen had intervened early, making them her responsibility. Even after she’d left for the States, she’d had them with her there every summer and holiday possible. She sure had the lion’s share in raising the girls.

  She sighed. “They’re my girls. I’m the one who’d do anything at all for them.”

  Something...enormous flared in his eyes.

  She was thinking she’d only guess at its significance, unable to trespass on what felt like an intensely personal reaction, when he ended any speculation.

  “I feel the same way about my brothers.”

  She blinked. “I thought you were an only child.”

  “I am. Those brothers are ones of my choosing, our bond not one of blood, but forged in trials of fire.”

  “Your Black Castle partners.”

  She wasn’t asking, just stating. He nodded. She wished he’d elaborate about them, about how he’d chosen them, about their trials.

  But she was never one for probing such deep privacies. He’d tell her when and if he wished.

  “So Fay and Zee? Will you call them that? For me?”

  “For you. You’ve invoked the binding spell that makes me do anything.” Indulgence and self-deprecation twitched on his lips. “No one has ever made me change my mind once it’s made up. You’re seriously messing with it, ya jenani.”

  Her heart hitched again. “Only fair, since you’re scrambling mine big-time.”

  He opened his mouth to object, and she rose on tiptoes and closed it with an ardent kiss.

  Before he deepened it, she stepped away, giggling. “You probably don’t have to worry about them anyway. I bet being exposed to you will excite them so much, they’ll be exhausted in a couple of hours.”

  That lethal smile of his dawned again. “In that case, let’s go get those girls of yours, and let me proceed to knock them out of our way.”

  Giggling again, feeling as though she was perpetually a few inches above ground, she called out to her sisters.

  In a minute, Fayza and Zeena came sauntering in, their eyes widening again as they fell on Numair, no doubt stunned all over again by his sheer physical presence.

  She understood the feeling exactly. Every single time she looked at him, it was a total shock to her system. Just like that first time. Even more each time.

  Numair invited them all to take their seats, then gave the order to take off. Little was said until the jet was done climbing and was cruising almost imperceptibly.

  Then Fayza turned to him. “So you’re the ‘undisclosed businessman’ this jet was sold to a couple of months ago.”

  Numair turned his focus on her, and Jen felt that Fayza regretted inviting it, struggled under its impact.

  “I think you have it mistaken with another plane.”

  “I saw a hundred-million-dollar high-tech customized Boeing 737 in an aviation exhibition in Shanghai, China, unveiled three months ago that looked a lot like it. They said they made a replica for an undisclosed businessman.”

  Numair gave a slight nod. “I’ve heard about it, but this jet is two years old, and is a Black Castle Enterprises production.”

  “You mean your business makes planes, too?” Fayza’s eyes widened. “But how does that fit with being one of the world’s most important contractors in military intelligence and counterterrorism?”

  Numair’s gaze sought Jen’s, communicating so much in the brief visual embrace. It assured her he was “thinking happy thoughts,” as she’d recommended. It also expressed approval of Fay’s curiosity and intelligence, but above all appreciation of Jen’s efforts in raising her sisters.

  Turning his gaze back to Fayza, he said, “You’ve done your homework, I see.”

  Fayza looked at Zeena, and the two grinned conspiringly at each other.

  It was Zeena who said, “We’ve been doing Google searches on you since Jen told us you’d be taking us all back to Zafrana on your jet.”

  “Very efficient of you.”

  After that kudos, Numair’s expression turned enigmatic. Jen couldn’t help thinking it made him even more menacing than usual. This man did have something inside him that wasn’t a soul. Some spirit of vengeance, maybe.

  “But now you know what I am,” he drawled. “Weren’t you worried about coming to the panther’s lair alone?”

  “We’re not alone,” Zee blurted out. “Jen is here.”

  “You think Jenan can protect you?”

  Zee nodded vigorously. “She always has. She’d never let anything bad happen to us.”

  “Even if you turn out to be some nut,” Fayza said. “Jen can take on anyone. She’s a black belt in kickboxing.”

  “Is she, now?” He turned to Jen, his gaze cascading down the body he had an inch-by-inch knowledge of, inspecting the memory of every muscle, sending her hairs standing on end so hard they almost shot out of their roots.

  “No, she isn’t anymore,” Jen groaned. “My competing days are long gone. I now kickbox to stave off the march of pounds.”

  “You’re still the best!” Zeena protested.

  “She is!” Fayza chorused, looking as if she’d die of chagrin now that Jen had shot down her bragging.

  “I’m sure she is,” Numair placated them smoothly, before turning back to her again. “I would pay anything for a demonstration of your skills.”

  Fayza quirked her lips smugly. “You can get one for free. Just make an inappropriate move.”

  “That’s a pity, as I don’t make those. My moves are all preemptive.”

  Zeena giggled. “Those would probably also qualify you for a demonstration.”

  He turned his burning gaze to Jen. “Would they?”

  She pulled a mock challenging face. “Why don’t you try one on me and see?”

  He shook his head. “I bet you reserve your demonstrations for defending others. A satisfactory one would only be on the girls’ behalf, I suspect.” He turned his gaze to them, and they visibly shrank back and huddled together like two cornered cats. Suddenly, he laughed. “Relax, Fay, Zee. I promised your big sister I won’t eat you.”

  As the girls’ faces brightened at his amusement, she rushed to alleviate the rest of their alarm. “Don’t listen to him
, girls. He won’t abstain from eating you because he promised, but because you’re not his staple diet.”

  Numair’s nod was seriousness itself. “It’s true. To my species little girls are grass, while we’re meat eaters, blood drinkers and bone crushers.”

  For a moment or two the girls appeared unsure whether he was serious, then they must have decided he was really funny because they burst out laughing.

  She noticed that something came into Numair’s eyes as he watched them splutter. Like what came into his eyes when she said something that particularly appealed to him or surprised him. It was indulgence—minus the heavily sensual undercurrent, of course. The protector vibe was back full-on.

  “Grass!” Fayza howled. “We’re grass!”

  Numair’s lips quirked in response to their hilarity. “Yes. So watch out for the hares and the sheep of this world. They’re the real danger.”

  Which was absolutely right, come to think of it. Ed had definitely been a cross between the two creatures. She still couldn’t believe she’d married him. Sure, she’d been rebelling. At Fayza’s age, she’d been looking for the opposite of her kingdom’s chauvinistic men. But still, Ed? She’d put up with him for six whole months before she’d kicked him out on his ear. She must have had a severe judgment blackout at the time.

  “But we’re not little girls!” Zeena protested belatedly.

  Numair’s faint smile was all forbearing. “Oh, yes, you are. You’re so little I can barely see you. But you’ll soon grow bigger and bigger, and your worries and burdens and responsibilities will grow with you. Being little is good. Savor it for as long as you can.”

  Her throat tightening with emotion at the direction the conversation had taken, Jen interjected, “They’ll always be little, as long as they have their big sister.”

  “Having a big sister like you is a sure way to remain protected, to never face the world alone.”

  His eyes held such warmth. She’d seen them in every temperature, but that was the hardest hitting yet.

  “Were you ever little?” Fayza asked, her expression filled with curiosity.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t get the chance to be.”

  Jen’s throat closed completely at the world of pain hidden behind his words. She’d thought he’d acquired his scars as an adult. But had he? A history of early abuse didn’t coincide with what was known of his past. But was it his real past? A man like him could rewrite his history with utmost ease. So had he? And what was his real story? Would he ever tell her?

  Seeming unwilling to discuss his past, he said, “About your earlier question, Black Castle Enterprises has companies and businesses that produce everything from screws to planes. We produce all our methods of communication and transportation from start to finish. This way, we get everything done to our specs, and it slashes our cost by two-thirds or more, not to mention it puts us in control of our electronic security and personal safety.”

  The girls looked even more impressed, if that was possible, as Zeena asked, “So how much did this plane end up costing you?”

  “Around fifty million,” he said. “It’s still a lot, but if I’d bought it at this level, it would have cost a hundred and fifty. It’s paid for itself in the past two years with the amount of commuting I did with hundreds of people who are key to my businesses. It seats up to thirty people, and I fly up to two hundred times a year, not to mention the other benefits I reap from it. I didn’t get to become a billionaire by splurging on things that cost far more than they’re worth and aren’t an investment that will pay back in spades for the effort, time and money I put into them.”

  Fayza chuckled. “Fifty million is pocket change compared to the whopping half a billion one of our region’s royals recently paid for his latest private jet.”

  Numair raised one eyebrow. “I will have to hunt him down and rid the world of his excesses.”

  Jen covered her forehead theatrically. “Don’t give him ideas, girls. If you don’t want to get rid of someone for good, don’t bring them to Numair’s attention.”

  After the girls laughed, thinking that was an excellent joke, Fayza pursued her line of questioning. “So what’s the specs of this jet?”

  Numair’s answer was immediate, and involved. “It’s between a Boeing 737 and 777 in size, but you’re excused in thinking it was the first, since seeing the interior without the usual seating doesn’t give you an accurate estimate of its size, and it’s also a twin jet. It flies seven thousand nautical miles at point eight Mach uninterrupted, or roughly sixteen hours of nonstop flight, before it needs refueling. It has three sleeping areas, and the meeting area has an internet signal booster, so it’s the best place to talk on your smartphones, play on your tablets or work on your computers online. You’ve seen the entertainment/conferencing system. In case you want to hold a party in the air, just let me know.”

  Both girls’ jaws dropped.

  Then Fayza exclaimed, “God, you mean it?”

  “Ask Jenan. I never say anything I don’t mean.”

  Jen nodded sagely. “He means it.”

  The girls squealed with delight, deluged Numair in thanks. Even though they were the daughters of a king, the girls hadn’t grown up in anywhere near that level of luxury. Their father would have indulged them even with Zafrana’s deteriorating economic conditions, but Jen had made sure he didn’t, so they didn’t grow up spoiled and desensitized from excess.

  But now a little indulging from someone who could so afford it was okay. And how they appreciated it. Numair, on the other hand, didn’t seem at ease under the bombardment of their gratitude.

  To end the subject, Numair asked Fayza, “So how do you know about that other plane you thought this one was? I didn’t realize following the news of aviation exhibitions was among the things a girl your age would be interested in.”

  Fayza sat forward eagerly. “I want to be a pilot, and I’m interested in everything man-made that flies.”

  And Jen was doing everything to make sure Fayza realized her dreams and soared as high as she could.

  The next second, her heart scattered its beats at his feet as Numair said something to the same effect. “Whatever you need to realize your ambition, I’m at your service.”

  When the girls realized he indeed meant it, and what it meant for someone of his power to help open closed doors or level road bumps for them wherever they needed, Fayza and Zeena again buried him in delight and gratitude.

  Intervening this time, Jen began to interact with the trio more instead of only watching them and contributing to their exchange at key points. Then over an exquisite lunch, the conversation and banter flowed more fluently with every passing second.

  The girls of course kept trying to get to the truth of why Numair was helping Jen, and by association, them, what was in it for him and what exactly had happened in the past four days. Numair deflected their persistence, gave them answers that were at once true, yet said absolutely nothing of the truth. It was uncanny.

  But what most delighted Jen was how Numair, for all his widely known misanthropy and his initial reluctance to have her sisters on board, treated them much like she did, with care and indulgence, albeit with his own version of overwhelming authority and firmness. He acted as she’d always imagined a magnificent older brother would be with them. She knew she was getting way ahead of herself, but she’d stopped worrying about anything that would happen down the road. She’d just enjoy the incredible present.

  With that in mind, she threw herself into being with the three people she loved being with most in the world...and hoped her sisters would go to sleep soon.

  * * *

  Numair stood at the top of the stairs of his jet and looked over the land he hadn’t set foot on since he was a child. Zafrana. Half of his heritage.

  Suddenly, all his senses revved, and he turned to t
he one who had total dominion over them now. Jenan looked even more breathtaking than ever as she approached him. Together they’d step onto the land she’d relinquished by choice and he’d lost by treachery. He would now reclaim it for himself, and make it a place where she could be happy and fulfilled, a home that deserved her.

  Her eyes were full of all the wonders they’d experienced together. But for appearances’ sake, so they wouldn’t invite people’s interference into their new and vital bond, she kept to herself the hands that had sent him mad with desire and ecstasy for four straight days.

  He luxuriated in how refreshed and satiated she looked. For the girls had slept. They’d woken up only during descent. He’d had Jenan in his arms, under him, all around him, for ten straight hours. Half of the time had been consuming pleasure, and the rest rejuvenating slumber.

  When her two sisters stepped out behind them, he turned to look at them. It had surprised him to find himself liking them, needing to please and defend them, and not only because they were her family. They smiled at him with that growing fondness and admiration that so affected him as they all descended the stairs to the limo waiting to take them to the VIP arrivals lounge.

  As they entered the lounge, the girls rushed to their friends, who’d come to inspect Numair’s jet for the promised in-the-air party. He was exchanging an amused intimate smile with Jenan when a deep voice boomed behind them.

  “Jenan.”

  As they swung around, a man, almost as tall and big as him, was striding toward them, his face tinged with an anxious, angry fire. Numair recognized him at once.

  Najeeb Aal Ghaanem. Saraya’s crown prince. His cousin and the oldest son of his murderous uncle.

  Then Numair’s head almost exploded with aggression. Najeeb had reached for Jenan, took her by the shoulders in an urgent grip.

  “I cut short my tour as soon as I heard. I went to New York last night but couldn’t find you or anyone, couldn’t get any reliable account of what happened. I called King Khalil, who told me you were returning home, so I flew here to wait for you.” His teeth gritted. “My father has crossed every line this time. I can’t apologize enough to you, but you don’t need to worry. I’ll put a stop to this.”