by C. J. Miller
Sarah. She crossed his mind more than she should. She had not returned his calls, at least not to his knowledge. He had been busy and not the easiest to get through to. But he wouldn’t press her by showing up at her hotel room or cornering her. If she didn’t want to see him again, he’d find a way to accept that.
His phone rang and he answered it. “Yes.”
“Your excellency.” The words were spoken as a sneer. Saafir’s suspicion spiked.
“Who is this?” Saafir asked.
“Don’t you recognize your old pal’s voice?”
Rabah Wasam.
“I thought we should have a chance to talk directly,” Wasam said.
Saafir hadn’t spoken to Wasam in years. How had Wasam gotten his number? It was a temporary one while he was staying in this hotel. Wasam had resources and this phone call was a show of how much he knew about Saafir’s movements and how extensive his network was. “What do you want, Wasam?”
“I’ve made it clear what I want. I want you to cease bargaining with a country of infidels and step down as emir.”
“For someone without a lot of power, you’re making some big demands,” Saafir said, hoping to bait Wasam into admitting the role he’d played in recent events, enough that he could jail him without public backlash.
“I am not making these demands alone. I am making them as the leader of the Conservatives. We are hundreds of thousands strong. We have an international reach. Perhaps you need a display of my reach and power to see that I am serious. I am willing to do what is necessary to protect Qamsar.”
Saafir didn’t want Wasam instructing his followers to take action against the people of Qamsar or the Americans. Some were stupid enough to follow them without regard to their lives or others. “I know you are serious. You don’t need to prove anything to me.”
“Royals are all the same. You want your special treatments and your pampering. When it comes time for the real work, you’re useless. Step down and let a real man take over.”
Saafir had once held a great deal of sympathy for the man who had lost his leg in a military operation in which Saafir had taken part. But Wasam’s thirst for revenge against those he believed were responsible was too great. He could only see his anger and his resentment and had lost the ability to have a balanced perspective.
“Our country needs us to band together,” Saafir said. He should disconnect the call. Only the slim ray of guilt and sympathy for Wasam kept him on the phone.
“Our country needs me to lead them out of the darkness and into the light. You’re a fool to believe that a progressive direction is a good direction. When America owns every one of our streets, what will you do then? When they’re making you dance like a puppet, who will help you? You’re being their willing pawn and everyone will see the truth.”
Saafir had heard these accusations before. His intel monitored Rabah Wasam and his website and various social networks to keep tabs on him. “You are letting your past cloud your judgment. This agreement will help Qamsar.”
“My past? You mean the time I spent in prison being tortured nightly while you walked free?” Wasam yelled.
Wasam was losing control. His temper was on a hair trigger and it wasn’t Saafir’s intention to rile him. The consequences of Wasam unleashing his rage had a ripple effect. “We can meet and I can help you to understand how this agreement will help—”
Rabah Wasam disconnected the call. He was likely worried that Saafir was tracing it. Saafir had no intention of going after Wasam directly until he had more intel on the man and his movements. Saafir needed a way to defuse the conflict without massive bloodshed and a revolution inside Qamsar’s borders.
Adham entered his open office door. “Captain, Sarah’s here to see you. She’s waiting in the hallway.”
Sarah? After not seeing her for what seemed like an eternity, he hungered for her. The mention of her name ignited his senses and expectation plowed through him. He’d been carrying a torch for her, hoping she would return. Speaking to Wasam had him on edge, and his stress level was too high. Talking to her and seeing her would make it better. It wouldn’t change Wasam or the problems his country faced, but she eased him.
“You want to take over here and let me take a break with Sarah?” Saafir asked Adham, pointing to his side of the desk.
A half joke. In a different world that acknowledged all children as legitimate, Adham would be in his position. Though he and Adham had only spoken of it a few times, Saafir often pondered the leader that Adham would make. He had been a leader in the army and a true Qamsarian Warrior, one of the few with almost pure bloodlines. With his family ties, he was an obvious choice as the emir’s lead guard, even if his position did not allow him to use his talents to the fullest.
Adham lifted his brow. “I have no interest in being the emir, even for an hour. A twist of fate I consider a gift that I am here and you are there. I don’t need to ask, since I know the answer by your expression, but do you want to see her?”
He did. Desperately. He couldn’t turn her away. His body and his heart beckoned to her. Even if she were here in some official capacity, Saafir wanted to talk to her.
Growing up, Saafir had known his wife would be handpicked for him by his parents. The woman he had been promised to when he was three years of age had died in a car accident a few years before they had planned to wed. Parveen was a stranger to Saafir, though he’d mourned for her family and their difficult loss. Arranging his marriage after Parveen’s death hadn’t been a priority for his parents though Saafir knew his marriage would be to another woman who had the same status and credentials. Never to someone like Sarah. His wonderful Sarah.
“Please tell her to come in,” Saafir said.
Half a minute later, Sarah entered carrying a white box tied with red-and-white string. “I have dessert if you have tea.”
“Tea can be ordered.” Saafir pressed a button on his phone and requested more tea be sent to his suite. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked enticing in a purple dress with a low neckline and skirt that hugged her body.
Sarah sat across from him, the desk between them. She set the box on the top of the desk and untied it. When she opened the lid, the scent of sweet pastries filled the room.
“My favorites. How did you know?” Saafir asked.
Sarah smiled. “I’m your event coordinator. I’m paid to know what you like.” She blushed. “What you like to eat, that is.”
She knew what he liked in the bedroom, as well. She’d proven that. “Is this a parting gift or a peace offering?” he asked, trying to read her intentions.
“A little of both,” she said. “I know this will end. I know it can’t go anywhere. If I see you for personal reasons, we have to do it behind closed doors, in secret and accept it won’t lead to a future. But I’ve been thinking about you. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
“Nothing has changed with my marriage plans,” he said, needing to be clear. He didn’t want to hurt Sarah.
“After my disastrous marriage, I’m in no hurry to rush into a serious relationship.” She paused as if checking her words. “I realize you’re the leader of a country. It’s not something I can conceptualize, but I know you have responsibilities to others that may overshadow personal plans.”
If he wasn’t the emir, he would have made different choices over the last several months. “What are you suggesting?”
Sarah sighed. “I’m suggesting we do what feels right and that what we do stays between us.” She nodded over her shoulder. “Although I think Adham knows more than he should.”
Adham could be trusted to say nothing on the matter to the public.
A secret affair without expectations of a future was perfect for the moment and yet was sad, too. It highlighted how far out of reach Saafir’s personal desires and wants were. Love came seco
nd to duty.
“Given what I saw in the news, I thought maybe you could use a friend,” Sarah said. She circled the desk and leaned a hip on the edge of it. She crossed her ankles, one over the other, drawing his gaze to her legs. She was wearing shoes with straps that laced up her ankles in a crisscross pattern. He wanted to unwrap her feet, start at her toes and use his hands and mouth on every inch of her body.
He could smell the light, refreshing scent of her skin. The scent brought an immediate visceral reaction and reminder of the night they had spent together. Being alone with her, lacking sleep and his country’s problems playing on his mind, Saafir wanted the relief of confiding in her. He wanted to tell her what had been going on, let loose the thoughts and decisions running wild in his head.
Saafir couldn’t discuss the situation with Rabah Wasam, not when his PR team was working to spin the situation to maintain America’s faith in the trade agreement and Qamsar’s faith in him. “I have a lot on my mind.”
She waited for him to continue.
“I tried calling you,” he said.
“I tried calling you, too. You are a difficult man to reach.”
He’d have to give out instructions that her messages were sent through with higher priority, or better, her calls forwarded to him immediately. “I’ll tell my staff to make sure you can reach me,” he said. “I’ll tell them you could have a food-related emergency that needs to be addressed immediately.”
Sarah pursed her lips. “Are you making fun of my job?”
“Not at all. Just trying to keep our cover,” he said. If she wanted their liaison to remain a secret, he would honor her request.
“I’m here now. Tell me what’s going on.”
He had too much to say and it was hard to find a place to start. He spoke the first thing that came to mind. “You know my brother stepped down as emir. I’d been working on other things and then this big wave swallowed me up. I’ve been swimming, but I’m paddling against a tsunami. I feel like I need to keep going, but I’m not sure where exactly I’m trying to go.”
It was the first time he had spoken the words to anyone and the dam of his restraint collapsed. He had been presenting a certain face to the world and he hadn’t had the time to consider how it was wearing on him. “Every time I get some distance and make progress, another wave hits me and drags me back.”
“By all accounts, you’re doing a great job,” Sarah said.
“There’s an entire political party devoted to forcing me out of power and some people are trying to kill me,” Saafir said, thinking of the Conservative party and the extremists.
Sarah pressed her lips together. “That sounds bad when you phrase it that way, but no leader has a one-hundred-percent approval rating. Political analysts say you’re doing the right things. World humanitarian organizations are on your side. Economists believe the decisions you are making will help Qamsar. I think you’re doing a good job with the economy. You’re making the decisions that will lead your country somewhere better.”
Saafir didn’t hear an agenda in her voice. He heard honesty. It sounded like she was aware of the situation. She must have been reading about him in the media. “How do you know so much about political analysts and economists?”
She blushed. “I looked you up on the internet. Not just your food preferences this time. This time I read the heavy stuff. The stuff that made me wish I had paid better attention in social studies to understand.”
She took his tie between her hands and played with it. Heat flamed across his body. He could bend her shapely body over the desk and make love to her. Pull her into his lap on this chair. Carry her to his bedroom and stretch out beside her on the bed. The possibilities were endless.
His heart rate escalated. As close as she was, his palms ached to reach out and touch her, to run his hand over her fair skin, to slide his hand around the back of her neck and draw her close to him. He gripped the chair handles harder to keep from grabbing her. He wanted her to make the first move. She had come to his hotel room, but he’d give her every opportunity to change her mind. Once she started something, he wouldn’t stop.
“You’re a good man and this is a tough situation. You’re under pressure. No one can withstand it without some release,” she said.
Saafir ran a hand over his face. Pressure was part of the job. “Since I took over for Mikhail, I haven’t had a day off. I haven’t taken a vacation. Qamsar needs me and I am honored to serve. But this wasn’t the life I expected. Before I was emir, I started every day meditating. Now the day starts with someone telling me the problems that developed overnight that need to be addressed even before I’ve had breakfast.”
Sarah nodded in understanding. She dropped his tie. “You’re the leader of your country. If you don’t like something, change it.”
Saafir met her gaze and held it. “I am a servant to the people. I make decisions thinking first of their prosperity, their happiness and their needs.”
“What about your needs? What keeps you sane?” she asked. Her hands moved to his shoulders and down his arms. Back up again.
Saafir stood and raked her with his gaze. His thoughts turned to her more often than they should. His country was in crisis and he was thinking about Sarah, her curvy body and the seductive way she moved. She didn’t even know how sexy she was. The more he tried not to think about her, the more he found her in his thoughts. Their attraction was an inconvenience to her. To him, it was unexpected and downright impossible to ignore. “Having you in my private office is not helping me stay sane. Touching me is not making this easier. It’s making me want to kiss you.” He wanted to take her into his arms with the pent-up emotions that had been running hot in his blood from the moment he’d met her. He’d pull her against him, take off all their clothes and not let go until they were both sated. Once, twice, a dozen times—whatever it took.
Sarah’s lips parted. Shock? Invitation? Sarah skimmed her hand down the side of his face. The caress set his lust wild.
“What’s stopping you?” she asked.
Her question pushed his desire for her over the edge. He could no more keep his distance than he could stop breathing. He pulled her tight against him, and shifted his pelvis to press his arousal against the V of her legs. She had to know just how much he wanted her. Rocking against her, he read the excitement in her widened eyes and in the firm grip she had on his shoulders. Possessiveness roared inside him. He had to have this woman. She had to belong to him. “While you are mine, I will treat you like a princess. I will spoil you for every other man. You will think of me and the nights we spend together long after I’m gone. Is that what you want?”
She nodded, the corners of her mouth turning up. “As long as you know the same.”
He loved her spunk. “I want you to say the words,” he said. “Say my name and tell me what you want me to do to you.”
“I want you, Saafir.”
“To do what?” he asked, running his hand between them, pressing his fingers close to her core.
She said a phrase that was hot and dirty. He had never been this hard, his arousal straining against the zipper of his pants. He wanted to be free and he wanted to be inside her.
Bringing his lips to hers, he let them brush against hers for a long, slow moment. Then he deepened the kiss. This was his opportunity to have this woman and he would take it and enjoy it as the gift it was.
Sarah sat back on his desk and spread her legs. He pushed her tight dress up her thighs, tempted to rip it off. Her skin was soft and her hair like silk between his fingers. She smelled of cinnamon. The scent of her perfume would cling to his clothes for hours.
A knock on the door. “Room service.” The tea he’d ordered.
“Leave it outside,” he said.
He turned his full attention to Sarah. She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falli
ng, her skin flushed. Burning with need, he kissed a trail from behind her ear to her collarbone and he ran his hands over her delicate skin. He skimmed a hand down the side of her breast.
She shivered and clasped the sides of his face so he was looking into her eyes. While she studied him, he waited for her to speak. She said nothing and pushed forward off the desk. He took a step back and bit off a groan as she turned and bent over his desk, spreading her feet and wiggling her hips. Clasping her hips in his hand, he mimicked exactly what he planned to do with her.
“How did you know I was thinking about this?” he asked.
She looked over her shoulder, her brown hair swinging to the side. “I guessed.”
He lowered the zipper on the back of her dress, tugging the dress over her arms and dropping the dark fabric to the ground. She stepped out of it. She was wearing a pink lace thong.
Excitement tweaked at his body where her backside pressed against his hardness. A sharp knock at the door. Room service again?
“Later,” he said, unable to take his eyes off that backside and the way the pink scrap of fabric disappeared.
“Captain.”
Adham stepped into the room and averted his eyes to the ceiling. Saafir pushed Sarah behind him, blocking her near-naked body. Of all the times to be interrupted, this was not it. “This better be life or death.”
“We need to leave,” Adham said.
Saafir noted the alarm in Adham’s voice. He wouldn’t question Adham when time could be of the essence. “Sarah, let’s go.”
She was already pulling on her dress. “What’s wrong? Is there another shooter?” Fear was taut in her voice. Saafir helped her zip up her dress, cursing their luck. Asking for time alone was a heavy request, but he had hoped to carve out at least half an hour for them.
“A journalist is in the lobby pressing the front desk for information about you. We have you both registered under assumed names, but she knows you’re here. If she knows, others know,” Adham said.
