“Sir, it’s Omar. I think you’d like to know that Miss Yoder’s been admitted to the hospital.”
Chapter Five
It felt stupid to cry.
Trudy had had too many ups and downs since her job had started on Monday to process all of them. This seemed like just the next step. Of course, she was being held overnight at the hospital for observation.
Maybe I’d have to demote Barakaa’s score to a five on the knight in shining armor scale. After all, tackling me to save me did give me a mild concussion.
She’d grown progressively nauseated and dizzy on the drive back to the city, and a concerned Mr. Kaiyam had taken her to the hospital. At first, Trudy felt like she was just being a paranoid burden. Then she’d passed out for a few minutes on the drive over there and been rushed into observation. After a CAT scan and an MRI, they’d figured out it wasn’t something massively serious, but that it was still best to keep her the rest of the night. She wanted to call her cousin, but it was still afternoon in Oklahoma when she got access back to her phone. Sonia’s boutique had a strict “no cell” rule that they’d had to enforce on her loquacious cousin more than once.
She’d have to wait a few more hours before hearing her cousin’s familiar voice.
It wasn’t that Mr. Kaiyam wasn’t still watching after her, and she didn’t know what she’d done to earn a surrogate uncle overseas, but she was grateful. Besides, rationally she knew she was going to be all right. It just would have felt nice to hear her cousin’s voice, to have someone who cared about her like that tell her it would be all right as well.
Her head throbbed, felt like it was connected to the tempo of her heart, like her temples were pounding in time with her veins. Staying awake was hard and, for a while, she drifted in and out of consciousness. She tried hard to keep her wits about her, but became too overwhelmed by the stress of the day to do much more than sleep. When she opened her eyes, she was sure that she now had yet another symptom to report to her doctors. She had to be hallucinating.
Because there was no way that Sheikh Barakaa Tahan was standing by her bedside in the dark of the night with a massive bouquet of roses clutched to his chest.
Blinking blearily up at him, she studied those steady hazel eyes of his, that gaze that seemed to see through everything and anything. Frowning, Trudy asked, “I’m dreaming aren’t I?”
Barakaa laughed, and it was a sound that she never thought she’d hear from him, not with all the chaos and tension in their relationship. “That’s not exactly the welcome I was hoping for, kitten,” he said. “Here, I thought something gorgeous to look at would help you keep yourself from focusing on the pain. Oh! And I brought roses too.”
Trudy chuckled despite herself and eased her body up into her sitting position. “Seriously, I didn’t hit my head harder than I thought, did I?”
Barakaa frowned and reached up to stroke her hair back from her face. “I’m here.”
“I thought I made it clear where I stood,” she said, accepting the flowers from him, overwhelmed by the sweet aroma of the roses. There must have been close to three dozen in her arms, and it took both of them to encircle the bouquet. “I can’t ruin my career.”
Taking the flowers back from her, Barakaa set them on the table. “And I just almost saw you die and then had a heart attack driving over here, breaking every speed limit in Dubai because I was convinced that you’d suffered something inconceivable because of me. I know I can come on strong.”
“And be unyielding,” she added, frowning.
The concern in his eyes wasn’t new. It had been there when he’d saved her from the falling pipes, but now it stirred something in her and gave her a sense of warmth and security that she had never felt before. She’d always felt so isolated—she’d always been so different from her family, then she spent so long struggling on her own. There was something safe in what Barakaa was offering.
Could it even be like home?
She sighed and let his hand take hers. “I’m scared.”
“Well,” he purred. “There are times to be nervous. Like I said, there are so many things I want to introduce you to, so many things I want to train you to be.”
“All I want to be is an engineer.”
“But you can’t deny there’s something between us, and that we almost lost that just today. I lived that scare twice in twenty-four hours. Tell me that you didn’t have any regrets when you thought you might die. Tell me that you could have died content, knowing you’d done all you wanted.”
What kind of presumptuous question is that?
Shaking her head, she wished she wasn’t tethered to a million monitors. She desperately wanted to stand up and pace. “I’m twenty-two. I’ve never even had a full-time job before. I thought one day that I’d make up everything with my family, somehow. I want to see the world, have children.”
“And those are all great goals,” he said, eyeing her with such intense scrutiny that she began to blush.
“But,” she said, realizing how dull the scenes of the farm and the library had been as they flashed before her eyes; realizing that outside of leaving her family and going straight into Sonia’s care, she’d never taken a chance. She was getting damn sick of never daring to do more. “I would have regretted that you and I never could have explored this. I can admit that.”
“Then you have to see that there’s more to life than just playing it safe, or hell, doing what’s expected.” He said clenching his jaw.
“I don’t know. There’s a lot to be said for what’s supposed to happen.”
“It didn’t help my family,” he said.
She blinked back at him, completely surprised by that change in conversation. Rubbing at her temples, she frowned back at him. “I don’t understand.”
Sighing, Barakaa let his fingers stroke against the petals of the roses before him. “My mother was a Bedouin princess, and it was expected for her to marry my father. Their marriage was often fraught because she never accepted the tradition of a harem.”
Trudy’s face wrinkled up as she blanched at that thought. It was that kind of sexual liberty she’d never understand. Theoretically she should be running wild, trying new things. Rumspringa and her own shunning meant she could have any life she wanted. But the lessons of childhood were too ingrained in her. It was years of training that she’d never shake. It was daunting enough to entertain the idea of going further with Barakaa while her professional reputation was on the line. What if he really was just using her as a distraction? What if he didn’t care about her? No matter what, even if she no longer attended church at all, Trudy still had some of that Amish indoctrination in her.
Sex wasn’t just anything, wasn’t just pleasure.
At the very least it was a gift and about trust.
I don’t want to be just another story for him to tell others.
“You seem confused, kitten.”
She narrowed her eyes back at him. “I’m not a tiny cat.”
He reached up and stroked her cheek and, despite her better judgment, she let him. “But you’re fierce, you just don’t know your own strength yet, like any true kitten,” he said. “I was explaining that Mother never agreed with Father over the harem and it tore her apart. Eventually, I think it broke her heart and that’s why she died. Not literally, of course, but I think people can just give up too.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Then I was supposed to take over Tahan Oil Subsidiaries after my father died. I was twenty-one and a kid just out of college, much like you.”
“As if I’m so young.”
“Ten years can be quite a difference, kitten,” he corrected.
God, the way his voice rumbles…the things it does to me.
“But you act like I’m some babe in the woods,” she huffed, even though that wasn’t too far off. As far as the business world actually worked, she only had textbooks and what her professors had told her to rely on. Trudy knew even less about the real world and ro
mance. “I’m so sorry about your family.”
“It’s long past,” he said, but something dark seemed to cloud over his eyes as he spoke. “I will say, I’ve never been a harem person myself. I have cousins who indulge in such things, but they’ve never interested me. However, I just feel like I’ve spent so much of my life doing what’s expected. It’s netted me many things, I understand and I appreciate that, but there’s something missing.” Leaning closer, he kissed her, his tongue forceful and probing her own. Heat flared in her belly and wetness flooded between her legs.
Forget his voice, just his kiss leaves me weak.
“Aren’t you tired of always being the good girl, kitten? Don’t you want to live without regrets?” he asked, sitting up beside her. “Once you’ve recovered, just come with me. All I ask is a weekend to show you what life could truly be like.”
Her eyes widened in her shock. This was all too Pretty Woman for her, but she’d been lonely almost her whole life, more so since fleeing Pennsylvania. Didn’t she deserve something real? He’d just said that he wasn’t like so many of the other powerful men out here. The pain he held in his voice when speaking about his mother—that shadow in his eyes—told her as much.
“A trip?”
“Yes. I want to tempt you shamelessly. Let you see what the life of a proper sheikha will feel like. Don’t you want to experience it as well?”
“I’m supposed to be your assistant,” she argued, her voice just a whisper. Both of them had to know how little protest she was offering. She wanted this connection as deeply and surely as he did.
“Then I need assistance to truly live,” he added, stroking her breast through the thin fabric of her hospital gown. “Don’t you want to help me with that, kitten? Don’t you want to help yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s all I needed to know,” he said, smirking at her. “Now, once you’re feeling better and discharged, get to packing. We’ll be heading to Abu Dhabi as soon as you’re up to it.”
“Where?”
Chapter Six
She wasn’t as familiar with Abu Dhabi as she was with some other places in the United Arab Emirates. She’d focused her studies especially in Dubai as well as Saudi Arabia, considering its important role in U.S. trade. If the name seemed familiar to her, then it wasn’t just from her Middle Eastern studies classes at OU. It was also from Garfield. That poor cat, Nermal, was always being mailed to Abu Dhabi.
Now she was rousing bit by bit from a restful sleep on Sheikh Barakaa Tahan’s private jet. That much Trudy had to admit was a complete bonus to allowing the sheikh to pamper her, to show her that true sheikha experience. An actual flight in coach sucked. Even if it wasn’t a far hop between the two countries, she’d never loved the hassle of flying. This time, she’d spent the flight curled up in the leather seat next to the sheikh. Okay, maybe not completely next to. She’d definitely been encouraged to put her chin on his shoulder and sleep curled up next to him, to enjoy the rigid muscle of his chest under her, to enjoy the heat of him.
Blinking up at him, she took a deep breath as the plane stopped on the tarmac. It must have been the lack of velocity that roused her in the first place.
“Do we go to the hotel first?” she asked.
“Well, since you were able to get enough sleep, I actually want my people to take the bags first and go on ahead. I have a few surprises set up for you today. Like I promised, this is going to be the type of day and journey you’ve always wanted,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest.
With those hazel eyes regarding me, and that voice, how can I be tired?
That was an understatement. Having him that near her, smelling his uniquely masculine scent mixed with turmeric, was like a bolt of lightning had struck her. She was already energized and ready for anything the sheikh had to offer her.
Well, almost.
I can only go so far. Good girls don’t…good Amish girls never would…
And how could Hellfire and brimstone still scare her when she’d grown up and left that life behind? Except maybe she hadn’t, maybe she’d be dragged back to that damn farm in Pennsylvania sooner rather than later.
He quirked his head at her and frowned. “Trudy? Are you all right?”
“I’m doing fine,” she said. She stood and offered her hand so she could take his. “I’m up for anything you’d like to do, Barakaa.”
The sheikh laughed and curled his lips devilishly back at her. “I think the part about being up is my line.”
* * *
The Souk Al Bawadi was one of the busiest places she’d ever been to. Granted, she’d thought that once of downtown Tulsa, but this was different. Dozens of bodies were pressed against each other in the market, stalls filled with dozens of swirling spices propelled the scents toward her nose, and people called and beckoned to her with a cacophonous rhythm. The center was one of the biggest markets in the Arab world, and clearly the largest here in Abu Dhabi. Situated next to the Bawadi Mall, it was a living, breathing organism, a whole society unto itself filled with hand cast lamps, fine silks and everything in between.
Shopping had never been something that Trudy reveled in. First, it was because she or her family handmade everything they needed. Then, she was a student supporting herself and living on her cousin’s sofa. Once she’d landed the internship, she’d splurged on some nice suits and outfits in order to seem business appropriate. Frankly, she was most dangerous if she went into a local indie bookshop. She could spend hours there, getting lost in the pages before her, and then end up taking home armfuls of books.
“So, my kitten,” Barakaa said, sweeping his arm wide and just narrowly avoiding a passing customer, “what do you think?”
She looked back at him and, despite her better nature, licked her lips. Trudy was sure the question had been blatantly about him, but it didn’t matter. Her sheikh looked delectable in a loose, white linen shirt and pants. The shirt was unbuttoned down a few extra places and she could spy the rich, olive expanse of his skin that contrasted with the ivory of his shirt.
I think you’re too attractive for words.
Shaking her head, she forced herself to be in control of her emotions.
Trudy, get a grip. This is just a date…over a weekend sure…but I can’t jump all over him in a market.
Of course, she wasn’t making any promises if he unbuttoned his shirt any lower. Nope, none at all.
“I think it’s amazing. I’ve never seen any place quite like it,” she said. She leaned over to take a closer look at the beautifully intricate glass lamps before her. The individual pieces of aquamarine and royal blue had been fitted into a tessellated brass lining. When on, it cast a beautiful, dizzying array of colors all over. “I could spend the whole day here just soaking everything up.”
He laughed again. “Oh I have far more plans than that. I’m good at being in control.”
She gulped, still unsure of what all of that meant, of how far he wanted to take her with things.
“Then this isn’t what you wanted me to see in the market?”
“No, I’d love for you to get a feel for things. You’ve spent so long studying or in the office. There’s such a difference between books and life. My people are such a vibrant group. How can you understand the way oil and business sustain us if you don’t see who we are?”
“So far, I had about four days of work, a near death experience, a few days of bed rest on doctor’s orders till the concussion cleared, and this trip,” she snarked. “I feel like I’ve got some experiences at least.”
He nodded and took her hand, the warmth and strength of his own surrounding hers. “Well as fun as passing fresh fish and arrays of vegetables and rugs can be, I actually had something more in mind, kitten.”
“What could be more interesting than gorgeous handwoven rugs and the most amazing glass craftsmanship?” she asked. “I’ve never seen anything quite like them even in the markets back in Dubai. These are just so e
xquisite.”
“Then you’re not going to know what to do with yourself next,” he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her down a particular corridor.
Trudy rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to make out with you in a random alley in Abu Dhabi no matter how many times you call me ‘kitten,’” she joked, feeling lighter than she had in days. Then her mouth dropped open at the shining brilliance before her. “Oh man!”
Each stall in this aisle was set up with tons of gold jewelry and baubles. The first on her right was tended by a small woman with a wizened face and a dark-black scarf covering her white hair. Her stand was overflowing with bracelets—thin filigree ones set out on dozens of polls, huge bracers that seemed like cuffs that would encircle half a wrist and dotted in the center with semi-precious stones, and even ones that had bangles that hung off of them. Reaching up tentatively, she touched the bangled bracelet and then grinned to herself as it jingled, sounding a bit like a wind chime.
“These can’t be real,” she whispered. She’d never seen something so opulent as stall after stall of gold trinkets laid out before her. “It’s just so gorgeous.”
“First, of course it’s real. It’s only the very best for myself and the woman I care for.”
She felt the heat flare over her cheeks. That was nice, to be cared for, as long as he was sincere about it. Then again, hadn’t he already been proving it? Hadn’t he paid for her hospital bills? Of course, someone more bitter or suspicious could say he was just trying to avoid a lawsuit and that this was just a weekend diversion for him. But this seemed different. Yes, he was still the domineering sheikh, still that slightly dangerous man who had promised to train her, to bring her up in certain, ahem, arts that he practiced. Still, it warmed her to think this gorgeous hunk of a man was caring about her, and that maybe there was more she could risk. Her life had been so empty, with nothing of excitement or depth outside her ties to her cousin, but certainly no true passion.
The next stall had massive, braided gold belts that hung from the poles. One was thinner than the others, and its golden scales seemed to interlock like a snake’s. A second was made of huge, intertwined flowers with multiple petals. A third was thin until it expanded in the middle and almost reminded her of the ostentatious prize fighter belts from professional wrestling. All were too far over the top for her to imagine wearing, but it was no less dazzling to marvel at how they all glinted in the dappled sunlight overhead.
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