Sheikh Obsessions - A Sheikh Romance Box Set

by Holly Rayner

  “Does your mother need a lot of help?” he asked, glancing back in the rearview mirror.

  Beth gazed out the window for a moment before she spoke. “She won’t admit it, but I think she does. My dad died two years ago, and she’s been on her own ever since. My dad had a good chunk of money put away in life insurance, but it’s not like she hasn’t had bills to pay and things to pay off. I just want to make sure she lives comfortably. I want her to be secure. I want her safe,” Beth breathed. She was so tired that she didn’t much care that she was confiding in a complete stranger.

  She thought she heard him mumble, “I understand,” but couldn’t be sure.

  “So what do you think you’ll be doing with us, here?” he asked.

  Beth felt a surge of annoyance before she stamped it down. The smooth ride of the car was lulling her to sleep, and she needed to stay awake until it got dark so she could adjust to the time difference. Conversation was the best way to do that.

  “I think I’m going to be protecting a spoiled little rich boy who thinks he can boss a woman around. Since he’s requested an American, I have to believe he must know that that will not be the case. I’m not some biddable woman; I’m here to protect and serve, and that’s what I’ll do, if I get the job.”

  The man’s eyebrows lifted in surprise again, and Beth mused that that was the second time she seemed to have shocked him today. Maybe she needed to tone it down a little. She really needed this job.

  “So you think a man who would specifically ask for female protection has no respect for women and their abilities?” Adil sounded defensive.

  Beth was right—in her fatigued state she had gone too far. Still, she was no stranger to such attitudes. She had watched many men use their power and influence to take advantage of a woman. She had rejected advances from men before finding herself, all of a sudden, without a promotion she was previously sure to get.

  “I just want to know what his intentions are. I’m curious about his motive for hiring me, if I’m being honest.”

  “You seem nothing if not honest, Miss Coolidge, but I think you’ll see that my employer’s intentions have nothing to do with your gender, or your pretty face. It is strictly business.”

  “I guess we’ll see,” she replied, gazing back out the window at the setting desert sun. It was so beautiful, the colors a gorgeous combination of oranges and pinks. She rested her head on the window for a moment, jerking awake a few seconds later. No sleeping. No sleeping.

  Looking around the interior of the car for something to distract her from her fatigue, she quickly spotted a magazine tucked into the back pocket of the front passenger seat. Pulling it out, a familiar face mugged back at her, looking like a male model.

  Her driver’s face.

  “What did you say you name was, again?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

  The man glanced back at her in the mirror, then back at the road. They were approaching a golden arched gateway, and he rolled down the window, tapped in a series of numbers on a console, driving through as the gate swung open automatically.

  “I didn’t say. Why do you ask?” He was smiling. She could hear it in his voice.

  “That’s pretty deceptive of you, trying to fool me like that, Your Highness” Beth said, realizing she’d been fooled into an interview with her would-be employer only moments after her arrival.

  Beth’s stomach twisted as she mentally rehashed their conversation. Hadn’t she called him a spoiled rich boy? How had he not turned the car around and tossed her right back on a plane back home?

  Just then her gaze was caught by a reflective sparkle, and she gaped in amazement at the vast and expansive mansion that came into view before them.

  The driveway led them past a huge, rectangular pool that reflected the shimmering lights from the mansion as dusk fell. He parked the car in front of two massive, polished wood doors, and turned off the engine.

  Getting out, he made short business of coming around to her side of the car, opening the door, and holding out his hand for her.

  Beth hesitated. Sure, he was extremely attractive, but he’d basically just tricked her into saying things she never would have said had she known the interview was already underway. Her eyes were stinging with exhaustion. Really, what other choice did she have?

  She gripped his hand firmly, ignoring the tingling sensation in her fingertips as he helped her from the car, and they stood face to face.

  “I am Sheikh Osman Al-Haddeni, heir of this estate and its current owner. I’d like you, Beth Coolidge, to help me keep it safe.”

  His gaze was warm, and Beth couldn’t tell if it was the heat or his eyes making her melt. She gave herself a gentle shake, pulling her hand back from his gentle grasp.

  “You seriously want to hire me? We haven’t even interviewed!”

  “Haven’t we?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow in an infuriatingly handsome way.

  “But you don’t know anything about me. You don’t know what I’ve done, what types of protective services I’ve engaged in,” Beth huffed. This was not going at all like she had imagined.

  “I think I know enough. Up until a few weeks ago, I had a full security outfit—all male—that I had hired to escort me wherever I went. They were competitive with each other and, I believe, threatened by me. I didn’t like the way they looked at me, with barely concealed hatred in their eyes. So, I’m hoping you might have a bit less ego for me to compete with. Your job won’t be too difficult, Miss Coolidge. I’m distant enough from the throne that no one would want me eliminated to get me out of their way. Aside from that, I hardly need protection, as you can see,” he held out his arms, as if to say, in case you haven’t noticed how built I am.

  “You’ll basically be a protection prop—a status symbol, to put it bluntly. I’ll keep you around so others know that I have enough money to pay you, and that is all. If you’d like some assurance that you’ll be adequately compensated for this, here is your first paycheck, in advance.”

  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a check. Beth took it, casting a glance down at the amount line. The blood rushed to her head. It was more money than she could make at any job back home in half a year! And that was just one paycheck.

  “How often are the payments?” she asked quietly.

  The Sheikh smiled. “Weekly, of course.”

  Beth felt her face go red. It was too much. If she could stick to this job for even just a year, she thought with a grin, she’d have enough to retire at the same time as her mother. Still, looking up at the Sheikh’s handsome face, she knew she couldn’t accept that quickly.

  “Can I have a night to think about it, Your Highness?” she asked, and saw him wince slightly at the use of the formal title. Good. She would use it permanently.

  “Of course. You’re exhausted. Please, allow me to escort you to your rooms. I had Adil take care of your baggage, and your other bag will be brought to you shortly.”

  “Got it,” she said, smiling. Beth wanted the Sheikh to see that she wasn’t going to be just another one of his servants to order around. To her surprise, he smiled back.

  “Yes. You certainly do,” he said, striding toward the massive front door, which was opened from the inside by an unseen member of staff.

  “Thank you,” she said, wondering if the Sheikh had ever had to open doors for anyone, let alone himself.

  Beth was beyond exhausted, but what she saw when she strolled through the door almost made her eyes pop out of her head. It was like entering a museum, except it was someone’s home. The foyer alone was as big as her mom’s three-bedroom home, tastefully decorated with warm colors and paintings that Beth guessed were all originals. She imagined that this must be what Elizabeth Bennett felt like when stepping into Mr. Darcy’s house for the first time, though comparing herself to Lizzy Bennett made the Sheikh Mr. Darcy, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about attaching that romantic moniker to him.

  As the Sheikh guided her down the ornately-decor
ated hallway with candlelight fixtures on either side, Beth caught sight of a painting of a naked woman combing her hair, as seen from behind.

  The Sheikh followed her gaze. “Ah, yes. I love Carrière. He had such a fascination with the female form, an appreciation really.”

  “It’s just a shame that back then women were seen as nothing more than vessels for babies, servants to do chores and otherwise keep silent,” Beth retorted.

  “I think it’s a bit more complicated than that, Beth, but I see your point,” he said, stopping at a door on the left.

  “Here you are,” he said, opening the door for her.

  Beth held tight to her bag, stepping inside and turning to face the Sheikh.

  “Thank you, Your Highness, for picking me up, and for the job offer. I’ll let you know my decision in the morning.”

  “Very good, Miss Coolidge. I certainly hope it will be a positive one. I also hope you will forgive me for starting the interview so underhandedly. I’m often treated differently because of my title, you see, so it was important for me to know what you really think.”

  “Then why am I still here? I insulted you, didn’t I?” Beth said, unable to keep herself from asking. To her great surprise, the Sheikh laughed.

  “It will take a lot more than being called spoiled to insult me, Miss Coolidge. You’ll find my skin is very thick,” he said, reaching unexpectedly for her hand and planting a kiss on it.

  Beth pulled her hand back. “Goodnight, Your Highness,” she said, moving to close the door.

  “Miss Coolidge?” he asked, before she could get it closed all the way.

  “Yes, Your Highness?”

  “Call me Osman,” he said with a grin.

  Beth grinned back. “No.”

  She closed the door on the Sheikh, smothering a laugh. She’d lost count of how many times she’d manage to raise those stellar eyebrows today, and she imagined it was more times than the women he was used to.

  Turning around and looking out at her suite, Beth’s mouth opened of its own accord and hung like a fish. It was like, she could only imagine, being inside Buckingham Palace. She had a sitting area with a fireplace (like that was ever necessary), and a huge bedroom with a canopy bed draped in sheer white netting. Her bedroom opened up to a balcony that overlooked the city.

  Dropping her bag, she headed straight to the bathroom, an open space with a showerhead dropped right down through the ceiling. When she turned it on and jumped in, it felt as though she was showering in warm rain.

  Donning a pair of shorts and a tank top, she snuggled into her enormous bed. Her last thought before losing consciousness was I could get used to this.

  And then she was fast asleep.

  FOUR

  Osman

  He’d dreamed about her that night.

  Osman stood on his balcony, staring out at the glittering city. It was still early enough to stand outside, before the heat would rush in like a wave, forcing everyone indoors.

  He wasn’t seeing the city, though.

  Her eyes were a rich brown color, just a little lighter than his own. Her hair was the color of chestnuts. And her body… There was something about her that Osman instantly liked. Maybe it was her toughness, or her desire to prove that she could handle anything a man could. He imagined being a female soldier would do that to someone. Nowhere else would you have to prove yourself more than as one of the few women in a world of men. Osman admired her for it. He hoped she would accept the position.

  A light knock at the door announced Adil’s presence, and he came in after a short pause with a silver tray laden with coffee and a light breakfast.

  “Your breakfast, sir,” Adil said, setting it down on a table just inside from the balcony.

  “Thank you, Adil,” Osman said, stretching in his satin robe as he cast one last glance at the city. “Will she be joining me?”

  “Momentarily, sir. She’s getting dressed.”

  Osman tried not to imagine her getting dressed, and instead sat at the table and fixed his coffee the way he liked it, with lots of sugar and cream.

  A few minutes later, there was another knock at the door.

  “Enter,” Osman said, trying not to sound too pretentious. It was clear Beth had strong opinions about his opulent lifestyle, but she certainly hadn’t complained while she gawked at his home the previous evening. Osman believed she’d quickly be able to adapt to the life of luxury. Everyone always did.

  When she entered the room behind one of his female staff members, his breath caught in his throat. She wasn’t dressed extravagantly. She seemed to have an attachment to low-budget jeans and T-shirts. Osman realized he was going to have to have some clothing ordered for her immediately.

  To his surprise, she laughed.

  “Do I look that bad to you, Your Highness?” she asked, her eyes mischievous. It was clear she liked making him feel uncomfortable.

  He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Two could play at that game.

  “On the contrary, you look like a dream. I trust you slept well?”

  She blushed at the compliment, and Osman suppressed a broad grin. Apparently Beth wasn’t so thick-shelled as to be completely immune to his charms.

  He knew he shouldn’t be flirting with her. He knew he couldn’t afford to mess this up. If she proved to be someone he could trust, they could end up being great friends for a very long time. He had already considered that, after a while, if everything worked out, he could offer to have her mother flown out to live on the estate, too.

  “I did, thank you. It’s nice to have a few hours of sleep under my belt so I can think clearly again,” she said.

  He gestured at the chair across from him at the small, circular table, and she took a seat, making a small face as she glanced at the tray.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing. This looks really good,” she said, reaching for a pastry and a glass of water.

  He watched her for a moment.

  “You don’t like coffee,” he guessed.

  “It’s not my favorite, no,” she said, taking a sip of water.

  “But you do like something warm at breakfast,” he guessed again.

  She took another sip. “I normally drink green tea. But in this weather, I might have to give it up.”

  With the sun fully risen, the heat was beginning to seep into the room, and Osman gestured for a staff member to close the door. He saw Beth’s eyes flash at this, and realized she was repressing another face.

  “You really don’t approve of the way I live, do you?”

  “I just think it’s weird that you have someone to open and close doors for you all the time. It’s not that hard.”

  “And yet this man has a job, a roof over his head, and—as you so keenly observed—his duties are very light for him. His family is well provided for, all of his children provided with a private education. But if you think I should give that up and simply get the door myself, I’m happy to tell him he is dismissed.”

  Beth put a hand up. “Okay, okay, point taken. I’ll bear that in mind from now on,” she said, taking a bite of her pastry.

  “‘From now on,’ you say? Can I take this to mean you’ve made a decision on my offer?”

  Beth chewed on her pastry for a moment before answering. “I will agree to work for you, on a trial basis, for six months. If I don’t find the job a good fit in any way, I will resign effective immediately. Those are my terms,” she finished, her gaze challenging.

  Osman was used to a challenge. He liked them, in fact. He waved a hand, and his assistant left the room, returning shortly after, carrying a document.

  “Those terms work for me. Here is your contract, ready to sign whenever you are,” he said, pushing the paper toward her across the table.

  Beth took her time reading it. She read every word, slowly turning each page. When she got to the end, she looked up at his outstretched hand, holding a heavy pen. She hesitated one more time, then took it, and signed her name.r />
  “Six months in the Middle East. Feels like another tour,” she said.

  “I think you’ll find the accommodations a bit more comfortable here than on a submarine,” he said with an encouraging smile. To his delight, she smiled back—a real one this time.

  “You do have a really nice shower,” she said, taking a heartier bite of her pastry now that everything was settled.

  Osman clapped his hands together, suddenly all business. “So, first things first—I’ll have some new clothes ordered for you. If you’re going to live in my world, you’re going to have to adapt to this culture. That means no jeans and T-shirts everywhere we go.”