The Sheikh’s Stubborn Assistant

by Leslie North

  Finally, when she thought she might lose her mind, he thrust into her. She brought her knees up and rocked in an attempt to take him deeper.

  Hard and fast. Slow and deep. His fingers dug into her body as he licked and nibbled on her, fucking her until she was clawing at him and crying out for more.

  “Come on, Katie,” he grunted. “I’m so close. Give me one more. One more. Fuck, Katie. Come for me.”

  He pinched her nipples, and she arched against him and shattered.

  He immediately cried out her name as he thrust hard and fast, spilling his seed inside her.

  10

  They didn’t leave the hotel for the rest of the weekend. Khalid fucked her on the floor, in the shower, and against the wall. He licked her on the couch, and he spread her across the chair. He couldn’t keep his hands or his mouth off her. He’d never felt so addicted to anything in his life.

  He wanted to paint her.

  The idea terrified him, and he immediately started to distance himself on the plane back.

  She stared out the window the entire time and didn’t press him. He could see the wheels in her mind turning.

  When they landed, he made sure that there were two cars waiting for them: one to take him back to the palace and one to take her home. “Feel free to stay home on Monday,” he said softly before she got into the car. “I know you’re probably tired.”

  “Night and day, remember?” she said as she forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “One has nothing to do with the other. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sheikh Khalid.”

  The word was an invisible slap, and he flinched. Angry, he slammed the car door behind her and stalked to his own car.

  The foul mood followed him for several days. She showed up to work during the day, but she always skipped out before he could have a chance to seduce her at the gallery. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him. He could see the desire in her eyes, but that weekend had changed everything. Their quickies in the museum weren’t enough for her, either.

  On Thursday, she approached him nervously. “The girls have invited me to dinner at the palace tonight. I accepted.”

  What did she want from him? “Okay.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” she demanded.

  He wanted to shake her and tell her that it wasn’t okay. He didn’t want to share her with anyone else. He wanted her in his bed. “If you wanted my permission, you would have asked before you accepted. Since you didn’t, I assume that you don’t care for my opinion.” He looked at her quizzically. “You don’t need my permission to hang out with your friends.”

  “You’re damn right, I don’t!”

  “So why are you so angry?”

  Her mouth opened and snapped shut. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought you would care. I guess that I was wrong.”

  “Asad and Rashid already got in touch with me. I already knew that you were coming. I’ll be there as well.”

  She immediately straightened and backed up a step. “You will?”

  “I will. Do you have something to say about that?”

  “No.”

  He shrugged and returned his focus to the computer screen.

  His pieces were arriving tomorrow, and his usual appraiser was out of town. He didn’t want to wait for the man to return to get the pieces appraised for the collection, but he was having trouble finding someone he trusted. “Okay, then.”

  “Okay, then.”

  As she walked away, he lifted his gaze and stared after her. The strange rift between them needed to come to an end soon. He was tired of satisfying himself with just the memories of her. He needed her again—and soon.

  Tonight.

  Amira, who had returned only last night from a trip of her own—she’d been away in London with their parents for the opening of some show, or was it a charity gala with the young royals?—was waiting for him in his suite when he returned home to change. “How was your weekend with Katie?” she asked immediately as he stripped off his tie.

  “Go away,” he growled. “I’m tired, and I want a drink before dinner.”

  “I heard the Batuk collection is rather eye-opening. When do I get a chance to look?”

  “If Father has his way, never.” Amira might enjoy the attention of men, but Khalid knew that his sister was still innocent. It had nothing to do with his father’s strict demands or even her religion. He knew that Amira had high standards when it came to men, and she hadn’t found anyone that she thought might satisfy her.

  She perched on the table and examined her gold manicured fingernails. “I was thinking of getting some girls together and hosting a private party once it’s on display. I bet we’ll find it educational. Katie, especially. She really knows how to appreciate fine art.”

  Khalid rolled his eyes. She was trying to bait him. He stripped off his shirt and reached for a clean green button-up. “You are not having a chick party in my gallery.”

  Amira didn’t miss a beat. “I had lunch with Katie today,” she said, elaborately casual. “I tried talking to her about the weekend, but she just said that she enjoyed meeting Batuk and observing his collection. I can’t imagine that anyone actually enjoys meeting that man. Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine.” He buttoned up his shirt and turned to face her. “Amira, I am her boss. I’m not privy to her personal thoughts and life. That’s what her friends are for, and I do not appreciate you using me to get more information about her.”

  Her eyes grew cold. “Maybe I’m just worried that you did something to hurt her.”

  His body stilled. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Katie might be hurting. “I don’t know how. All I did was give her an opportunity to learn more about acquisitions,” he lied.

  “Good.” Amira hopped down from the table. “You’re not like Asad and Rashid. They may have been against love in the beginning, but they were made to love. You’re not quite there, yet.”

  What the hell did that mean? He stared after his sister as she left his suite. This whole time, he’d been assuming that Amira had been trying to set him up with Katie, but maybe he was wrong.

  Maybe his sister didn’t think that he was good enough for Katie.

  Suddenly, she stuck her head back in at the door. “I forgot to ask—has she mentioned any of the guys from our dinner party that she met? I think she might be lonely, and I’m trying to set her up.”

  “No,” he snapped.

  Amira blinked. “No, she hasn’t mentioned anyone?”

  “No, she’s not lonely. Why don’t you quit meddling in other people’s business and just let things be?”

  Her face fell. “Why are you so angry?”

  “I’m not!” He yanked at the buttons on his sleeves.

  He felt like an ass. First he was upsetting Katie, and now he was attacking his sister. “I’m just hungry. I’m sorry, Amira. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Straightening, she walked back in and gently buttoned the sleeves on his shirt. “Are you okay, Khalid?” Her eyes darkening with concern, she added, “You seem colder than usual. I say that with love. I just worry about you. I thought . . . never mind.”

  “You thought what?” He kept his voice gentle so he wouldn’t upset her again.

  “This past month, you’ve seemed happier. I thought that maybe you’d met someone, but I didn’t want to pry.”

  She finished, and he dropped his arms to his sides. “It’s like you said, Amira. I’m not built for that.”

  “I didn’t say that. I said that you weren’t there, yet.”

  “Right.” He smiled tightly. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs so you can fuss over the dinner.”

  With a mock gasp, she gently punched him. “I do not fuss.”

  “Nitpick?”

  “I will uninvite you.”

  “I live here. You can’t uninvite me.” He closed the door to his suite and followed her down the hall. Although he was upset by what Amira had said, he was still looking forward to se
eing Katie again. If he was lucky, maybe he’d actually get to see her smile at dinner.

  If he was even luckier, maybe that smile would be for him.

  11

  Katie tried to seem engaging at dinner. She chimed in when she could and laughed at the jokes, but mostly, she spent the greater part of her energy trying not to stare at Khalid.

  He sat next to her at dinner, and occasionally, their thighs would brush together. It was enough to make her heart beat erratically, but he didn’t do more than that.

  To hide the trembling in her hands, she drank.

  Too much.

  By the end of dinner, her head was spinning.

  Liyah had been watching her with concern. “Katie, of course we can have a driver take you home, but if you want to spend the night here at the palace, I can let you borrow some clothes.”

  The last thing she wanted to do was spend the night at the palace. She didn’t think that she could make it through the night, knowing that Khalid was under the same roof. “No, that’s okay. But I appreciate the offer. Dinner was amazing, Amira. Thank you so much for the invitation.”

  “We don’t see nearly enough of you,” Mila complained. “Khalid is a slave driver!”

  Katie laughed. “He’s not, although the gallery does keep me busy. The truth is that I have met another friend, and I have dinner with her once or twice a week.”

  Fatima called her frequently, sometimes several times a day, but she seemed more interested in Khalid than in Katie.

  Katie was starting to feel uncomfortable having dinner with the woman, but it was the one time she could talk with someone who wasn’t directly related to Khalid. Although she hadn’t come out and told Fatima that she was sleeping with Khalid, she could vent about him without actually telling the whole truth.

  It was almost cathartic.

  “Well I demand that we do this once a week,” Amira declared. “I have far too much fun with you guys.”

  “Me, too!” Smiling, Katie stood—but wobbled just a bit. “Okay, it is definitely time for me to go home. It was really good to see you guys. When the Greek collection is live, we’ll all have to go see it. It’s rather enticing.” She winked, and the table laughed.

  She hoped that Khalid would walk her to the door, but it was Asad who offered. She wasn’t so drunk that she couldn’t walk down the hall, but she was pleasantly buzzed.

  “You and your brothers are so interesting,” she murmured as he opened the door to the valet station for her.

  “I assume you’re talking about Khalid,” Asad laughed. “He’s a good man. I just think that he’s not allowed to be himself.”

  Turning her head, she stared at him. “Because he doesn’t paint?”

  “A lot of things.” Asad bowed his head as the driver pulled up. “Have a good night, Katie.”

  “You too, Asad.” On impulse, she hugged him before climbing into the car.

  To her surprise, rather than taking her home, the driver simply drove around the block before heading back to the other side of the palace.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Following orders,” the driver said in a neutral tone. “Sheikh Khalid wanted me to drop you off at his door.”

  “What? Why?” She glanced out the window and saw him standing outside the door, waiting for her.

  Grumbling under her breath about his ridiculous controlling nature, she climbed out and marched toward him. “What do you think that you’re doing?”

  “You’re spending the night with me,” he said shortly as he opened the door. “Come on.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest. “You couldn’t be bothered to ask me rather than order me?”

  “You’re a little drunk, Katie. Do you want to go home to Sahaar like that? I don’t plan on taking advantage of you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “No, I guess you had your fill last weekend,” she muttered in disgust. “If you wanted me to spend the night, why not say something at dinner? Why make the driver circle the palace and sneak me in as if I were some mistress of yours?”

  “Katie . . .”

  “Am I not good enough for your family?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t think that you’d want the girls to know that you’re sleeping with me like this. I felt that you’d want to tell them yourself.”

  “Slept with,” she corrected before stomping inside.

  His hand snuck out and grabbed her arm. “Just so we’re clear, Kadija, I have not had my fill of you. I’m not even sure that it’s possible.”

  Jutting her chin out, she stared at him. “Then what have you been doing this week?”

  “Following your lead. You seemed hell-bent on ignoring me, and I didn’t want to push you.”

  Oh. “That’s oddly nice of you. Okay. I’ll stay here tonight. I should have borrowed something from Liyah, after all.”

  Khalid chuckled as he followed her inside. “I may not be taking advantage of you, Katie, but that doesn’t mean you have to wear clothes to bed.”

  She expected his suite to be cold and impersonal and was pleasantly surprised to find it covered in art. Paintings and murals hung on the walls, some contemporary and some prints from well-known masterpieces. At least, she assumed that they were prints. The originals were supposed to be hanging in museums. His shelves and bookcases were littered with pottery and small statues.

  And some of the paintings . . .

  “Those are mine,” he said roughly. “I went through a landscape period. Dubai was my muse.”

  The barren scenery glowed under the moonlight. His strokes were bold and deliberate, and there was a haunting beauty to his work.

  “They’re beautiful,” she whispered as she reached out a careful finger to the nearest, stopping short of touching the surface. “Why would you stop?”

  He was silent for a moment before he opened the doors to the patio to let in the small breeze.

  Curious, she followed him out and stared down at the city below.

  He gripped the railing and smiled sadly at her. “My father is a traditional man. He’s relented quite a bit in the past few years, but when we were growing up, he had strict ideas about what he wanted from us. I always knew that I would disappoint him. I used to sneak away and paint at night so that I could be what he wanted me to be during the day and be what I wanted at night.”

  Night and day.

  “He found out?”

  “He wasn’t angry. My mother encouraged me to paint, and he’d always assumed that it was a hobby, but when I failed to take an interest in the family’s various businesses, he grew alarmed. The gallery was a last-ditch effort on his part. We fought—argued,” he corrected as if feeling the shock radiating from her. His look grew far away as if the conversation had transported him to the past, and she saw the sadness in his eyes.

  “He’s a businessman by nature,” she said gently to pull him back to the present. “It can be difficult when children are so unlike their parents.”

  Khalid sighed and nodded. “He felt that I was never going to amount to anything, and I guess I was starting to feel that, too. He promised me the gallery, to do whatever I wanted with it, if I gave up painting.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Couple of years.” He shrugged slightly, not meeting her eyes. “I’m okay with it. I love the gallery.”

  Tentatively, she touched his chest. “You can do both.”

  “Maybe.” He grabbed her wrist and kissed her hand. “But I haven’t wanted to paint in a long time.”

  His eyes darkened as she leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Maybe you just need the right person motivating you.”

  His fingers stroked her cheek. “Why did you come here, Katie?”

  “Your sister invited me.” Pulling back, she wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Not here to the palace. Here to Dubai. You aren’t really here to find your mother’s roots, are you?”

  “Yes.
” Under his steady gaze, she sighed and bit her lower lip. “Sort of. It’s difficult to explain.”

  “We have all night.” Moving closer, Khalid wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “I want to hear what you have to say.”

  “As long as it’s not about art?” Katie snorted.

  He didn’t flinch or move away, and she sighed. “My parents’ marriage wasn’t a happy one. My mother was beautiful, and I think that’s all she was to my father. He never would have married her if it wasn’t for me. A brief affair that turned into a shotgun wedding.”

  She laughed bitterly as she remembered the way that they used to fight. “He ordered her around like she was his slave, and she never stood up to him. I used to think that she died of a broken heart, but I don’t even know that she loved him.”

  A lump formed in her throat, and she struggled not to cry. Khalid didn’t push her to continue, but his hold tightened gently, and he kept holding her, making her feel oddly secure in his arms, until she could keep going. “He used to tell me that I was going to be exactly like her. Pretty—and not worth anything. I did everything that he wanted. I was a good student. I kept to myself. I never partied or stayed out past curfew. I didn’t drink or do drugs. I went to the school that he wanted me to go to, and I picked the classes that he wanted me to take.”

  “I take it that wasn’t art history?”

  In spite of the pain, Katie laughed. “I signed up for summer school after freshman year so I wouldn’t have to go home. I was supposed to go to room 321, and instead, I stepped into 312. It was an upper-level art history class, and it focused on the transition of art between the Age of Reason and the Age of Imagination. I didn’t understand half of what was going on, but I was intrigued.”

  A smile twisted on his face as he adjusted his grasp and pulled her under his arm. “Really? I figured you’d be the type to get up and immediately correct the mistake.”

  “I did the good-girl thing and found the right class, but I skipped almost a third of my classes that semester to sneak back into art history. The pain . . . the love . . . the passion. It was everything I had yet to experience. I changed my degree at the end of that summer.” She snuggled against him and, despite the warm night, enjoyed the heat radiating from his body.