by Ella Brooke
“Well, now neither are you,” she said, her jaw clenched tight after she finished. Taking a deep breath, Juliana pointed to the door. “Now, get out, both of you, and never call me again.”
***
Juliana hadn’t slept well.
No, that was an understatement. Saying that she slept poorly would imply that she slept at all. Maybe she had a few microsleeps, enough to keep her from going nuts, but mostly she’d lain awake on her sofa (there was no way she was going to lie on that mattress ever again) and tried not to cry. She’d failed on that account too. Tears had streamed down her face all night, and she’d tossed and turned, terrified about having to tell her mother and sister about what had happened.
God, how badly would that suck?
Her sister, Amanda, had the perfect marriage back home in Maryland. She was the wife of an up-and-coming executive for a sports apparel company. Together, Amanda and Josh had two gorgeous daughters and the nice house in the suburbs. Even with Phillip’s salary as an accountant, they’d been eking by with a modest home. The prices in Silicon Valley were just insane. She’d always told herself that was the main reason they hadn’t married and started their family yet. Now she knew it wasn’t true. Even if she’d seen the rest of her life as something happy with Phillip and their brood of kids, he had not.
Bleary-eyed and with her skin feeling as raw as if she’d been rubbed by sandpaper, she walked into the offices of Simcom Systems and fumbled to boot up her computer. The last thing she needed was to hear her name being called over the intercom, beckoning her to the boss’s office. Sighing, Juliana, shoved her chair back in and walked (almost in a straight line) to the offices of Karen Grant, the head of the company.
At forty, she was older than some of the scions of Silicon Valley, but she was one of the few women in control out here. Her smart-house technology was being installed in the homes of celebrities and royalty around the world, currently beta tested mainly in the Middle East. Ms. Grant was wealthy, incisive, and successful—everything that Juliana wished she could be. She was also a rip-roaring bitch and someone whose bad side Juliana never wanted to be on.
Showing up a red-eyed, tear-stained mess probably wasn’t going to help matters much.
“Juliana,” she said, gesturing to the door. “Please shut that behind you.”
“Yes, ma’am. What’s going on?”
“You’re getting down to business. I like that,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Juliana.
Karen was impeccably dressed in a chic black dress that would have fallen completely wrong on Juliana’s ample curves.
Some women are always put together…
“I just wanted to make sure I could help you as fast and as well as possible,” Juliana corrected.
“Again, I really appreciate that spirit, Ms. Caine. I’ll get right to it. The smart-house hardware installed in Jordan for the sheikh there is malfunctioning. He was one of our first customers, and I’d hate for him to badmouth our company or our service. We aim to serve and we aim to be the best.”
“I understand,” she said, a bit amused even in her exhaustion that Ms. Grant was giving her the sales pitch. Juliana was on the team; she didn’t need the spiel. “I was working on the 2.0 update code…”
“I think you’re the second best programmer we have here.”
Despite her crappy day, Juliana couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face. “Thank you, Ms. Grant.”
“Don’t thank me. It’s a statement of fact. You just need to get your butt on the company jet at noon, and then you have a week to fix everything for Sheikh Cemal Samara. The company’s reputation is riding on it.”
She left the room, not exactly thrilled to be traveling on four hours’ notice overseas. On the other hand, it would be easier to deal with the breakup and cheating if she wasn’t in the place she’d “shared” with Phillip for years. Apparently, he hadn’t been sharing anything with her. Well, it was time for a bit of a working vacation in the Middle East and to prove to her boss that she was management material. Maybe she’d finally be able to advance past lead coder, to prove herself worthy of that vice president status she’d always wanted.
Juliana hurried out of the office and back to her house, determined to pack in record time.
This is going to be the opportunity of a lifetime, just you wait and see.
Chapter Three
“I think you’re confused,” Juliana said as an older woman led her deeper into the labyrinthine halls of the palace.
The older woman shook her head, her long, snow-white braids splashing over her shoulders. “You’re the representative from Simcom, are you not?”
“Yes, but I thought you’d show me to your main server room. I feel more like we’re lost in the deepest corner of the palace.”
“I’ll be honest,” the woman continued. “The master did not expect a woman to be coming. Once Ms. Grant clarified her lead coder was a woman…well, he ordered the harem to make you as comfortable as possible. He knows more than anyone how exhausting flights from different parts of the United States can be. It’s been over ten hours and now the desert sands of Jordan must be covering you from the open Jeep ride.”
Juliana sighed. She hadn’t exactly been able to sleep on the plane, either. Even though it was now almost 7 a.m. in Jordanian time and she was running up on thirty-six hours without sleep, true rest had eluded her. And, yeah, the woman wasn’t wrong. The Jeep ride through roads that were just barely drivable had ended up with sand and grit all through her hairs and unmentionable crevices. If they wanted to help her clean up before she got some food and to the briefing, then she really shouldn’t complain.
“I’m not joining the harem, am I, ma’am?”
“My name is Yasmeena, and I have been the head woman for the harem for over thirty years. I served for the sheikh’s father and now am one of the chief advisors to him and his mother.”
“How does that work?” Juliana blurted. “I…I mean, wouldn’t the sheikh’s mother be…uh...what I mean is—”
“The custom to have a harem is outdated. The women who live here have been here for at least twenty years and served Sheikh Cemal’s father. We’re what you call retired.”
“But you weren’t always,” she countered as they finally stepped up to two, huge and intricately carved doors. Juliana craned her neck at them. They had to be over fifteen feet tall and incredibly heavy. At least the three men guarding the quarters helped Yasmeena push open the door. Otherwise, Juliana wasn’t sure how they would have done it. “I just meant that I don’t know how you and the Mrs. Sheikh—”
“The sheikha,” Yasmeena said, her voice a wry chuckle.
“Exactly. How can you get along?”
It was nothing that Juliana could understand. Even though she’d known Candy for eight years, even longer than she’d known Phillip, there was no way for her to ever think about the other woman without daggers tearing into her own heart. The idea that two women could have shared a partner and still remain friends utterly baffled her. It didn’t seem possible.
Yasmeena shrugged as they passed into the main room of the harem chambers. “There are many old customs. I was what my king needed of me, but I was never emotionally attached to him. Now I care for his son and his wife as best I can to honor him. But these are ancient customs and Sheikh Cemal abolished them when he took the throne. I suppose everything must change sometime.”
“I still doubt that if I were a male programmer,” Juliana said, setting down her purse and laptop bag on the nearest collection of soft, silken pillows, “that he’d be giving me a rest in the harem room.”
“Well, he’d still provide time to freshen up, but Cemal said, and I quote, that you ‘must be pampered’ for coming to do such a great service.”
“Really, just show me to some wires, and I can more than help,” she said, even as her jaw went slack. Juliana had never seen such a beautiful sight. The palace’s roof was easily close to thirty feet above them. The ceili
ng spiraled out into cupolas decorated with intricate geometric patterns filled with semiprecious stones and gold leafing. It was like being in a museum, but more lovely than she ever could have imagined. “This place is amazing!”
“It is, and so we must prepare you, so please sit down at one of the mirrors.”
Juliana sighed and sat as directed. It was probably better not to fight this. If it made the sheikh happy, and if Yasmeena was going to help brush the dirt and sand out of Juliana’s long, dark hair, then she wasn’t going to complain.
The older woman went to work, pulling the old, mangled scrunchie from her hair. “If you continue to pull it up so tightly, then you will lose your hair, go bald.”
“I think that’s an old wives’ tale. Besides, I can’t have it get in my face when I’m fixing hard drives.”
Yasmeena chuckled. “You have beautiful hair,” she said, even as she began to comb it with an ivory-encrusted brush. “If you wish to have a boyfriend or a husband, it is best to keep it down, to frame your face and those sea-green eyes of yours.”
“Now you sound like Mom. She always said that if I kept slumming around in jeans and flip-flops that…” Juliana stopped and sniffled. Her throat felt raw, as if someone had clawed at it from the inside, and she could no longer speak.
“You trailed off,” Yasmeena urged as she picked up a jeweled comb from the vanity. It was silver but highlighted with a giant red stone. Juliana was almost sure it had to be a real ruby. “Why did you do that?”
“I had a fiancé. I guess I wasn’t fancy enough to keep him,” Juliana said, finally breaking down and crying with someone.
It felt good to admit that out loud. With her mother, she’d just offered a few brief texts before flying. At work, she had to be professional. But she was tired of the brave front for others. Usually, when things in her life got FUBAR’ed, she’d just call Candy, but she didn’t have that option anymore. Yasmeena wrapped her arms around Juliana’s shoulders and hummed a song to her, eventually singing words (probably Arabic) that Juliana had no hope of understanding.
“Shhh, Miss Caine, I promise that nothing bad will happen to you here. Besides, when I’m done, you’ll be the most beautiful woman the sheikh has ever seen.”
She chuckled and swiped at her eyes. “I think I just need to fix his security system. He doesn’t need to like me, merely like my work.”
Yasmeena grinned back at her, offering her a Mona Lisa smile. “But he can do both, can he not?”
***
Juliana had no idea what the hell she was doing. Thirty-six hours ago, she’d lost her friend and her fiancé. A little over twelve hours ago, her boss had sent her on an important, possibly career-making mission to fix Sheikh Cemal Samara’s home security system. Now, she had been summoned first to the dining room to have breakfast with the sheikh and to discuss the problems with his electronics, except she was dressed like an extra out of Lawrence of Arabia. Yasmeena had taken her work seriously and now her hair hung in long, wild ringlets down her back and was held back by that attention-grabbing ruby comb. Her eyes were rimmed in kohl, something that drew even more attention to her blue-green eyes, and her lips had been accentuated with the deepest of red lipsticks, something that contrasted with her pale skin. But the topper on all of this was the insistence by Yasmeena (and the other harem women) that she take full advantage of the sheikh’s generosity, sartorially speaking. Currently, Juliana wore a bandolier around her middle, something that left a small sliver of pale skin between her breasts and her hips exposed. The bandolier and roomy harem-style pants were the palest shade of canary yellow and adorned with crystals as coins.
She felt like Princess Jasmine, yet no Disney princess had ever had to worry about fat rolls.
She wasn’t sure that Yasmeena should have gone this far, not that she was here to impress Sheikh Cemal like that. No. Juliana had humored Yasmeena, but now she was regretting that choice and pacing before the dining hall’s doors. The exotic, exposed stomach look was for some women, but she was a curvier girl, a size fourteen who was too scared to wear a bikini. This was a terrible idea. If she hurried now, she could get back to the harem room and put her suit jacket and skirt back on.
That would at least keep me from looking like a beached whale….
Turning, Juliana was about to rush down the hall when she saw someone who made her blink her eyes in confusion. Frowning, she blinked again and then wished she could rub at her eyes. She had to be hallucinating. There was just no way…
The man before her was tall, probably close to six-foot-five and he was broad-shouldered, easily as wide across as any Olympic swimmer and with an equally tapered waist. However, his eyes were what really caught her attention, that deep amber that seemed unique. That she’d always found unique back in high school.
“I…Robbie?” she asked, confused.
What the hell is my old boyfriend doing in Jordan of all places?
“Juliana? You’re the programmer from Simcom?” the man before her asked, matching her confusion.
“Seriously, who are you?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes further at the mysterious, impossible figure before her.
He bowed low, and then, taking the back of her hand, peppered it with a light kiss. “My name is Sheikh Cemal Samara, but when I attended secondary school, my parents insisted I use the pseudonym Robert Khayim for my own safety.”
Juliana’s mind raced even as she pulled her hand back from his grasp.
This can’t be happening. This has to be impossible!
Then she shook her head and backed away. “Is this a setup? I can maybe understand how you had to give a false name back at St. Paul’s Prep, but there’s no way you just happened to need a coder for your smart-house system and I just happened to be the one called in. Did you put Ms. Grant up to this? Hell, is your system even broken or is this all some elaborate, cruel joke to have me back?”
Cemal shook his head and brought his hands up in defeat. “Of course not. I’d rather not have had my security system go haywire with the ambassador from the US waiting to go over intel a couple nights ago. I had no idea which company you work for.”
“Bullshit!” she shouted, trying to keep her voice calm. Hell, trying to keep herself calm. “You urge me to be a wild child fifteen years ago, you get me in so much trouble with my parents, and even after how much I loved you, you just pick up and go back to the Middle East without even a damn letter? No, I can’t believe this is all a coincidence, and I can’t believe you. Not after you broke my heart!”
He stepped forward, and, panicked, Juliana slapped at his hands. Cemal moved with the same fluid grace that had always defined him and ducked her futile slap. Then, he pinned her by both shoulders and looked her in the eyes.
She tried to look down at the intricate tile of the floor beneath them, but that was hopeless too. She could not resist his eyes, so hypnotic, so like spun gold. “What?”
“Fate has brought us together again, my Snow White.”
She snorted at the old childhood nickname he’d had for her. However, with her reddened lips and even paler skin brought on by years of living in the computer lab, Juliana had to admit that the moniker wasn’t wrong.
“It’s all a coincidence.”
“Then it’s a good one,” he said, his breath hot against her cheek.
Despite herself, she inhaled his scent, the spicy hint of saffron tickling her nose as well as his utterly male musk. Heat flared through her belly and wetness began to pool between her legs.
Damn him, damn him for being so irresistible.
“It’s not. I’m going to fix your system and then I’m going home.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Chapter Four
Juliana stormed off after that. It didn’t matter if Robbie…Cemal…whoever had intimated that he could make her stay as long as she wanted. She wasn’t going to have breakfast with him. So far, he was acting as surprised as she was, but she didn’t buy it. He was rich, powerful, and
clearly could have all the intel he wanted with his whole country’s national security team on his side. Of all the programmers in all of the world (and there were a ton, often with neckbeards in their mother’s basements), he randomly dialed her up.
No way.
If he thought he could rekindle something that had ended over a decade ago, and after he tore her heart out, then Cemal had another thing coming.
She’d fled to her part of the harem quarters, the lavish bedroom that Yasmeena decreed was hers for the remainder of the trip, and then started working on a list of systems and pathways she was going to check the next morning. When the sun rose, she was escorted by first Yasmeena and then Cemal’s personal assistant, Maleek, to the mainframe room for the security system and had been going through the external hardware ever since. So far, every wire and motherboard was still intact, leading her to believe there was something more insidiously wrong with the code, which would take longer to unsnarl over the next few days.
She was determined to get it done.
The last thing she needed was to spend any extra time with that lying weasel Cemal.
There was a cough behind her and she sighed, setting down her laptop. “Maleek, is it dinnertime already? I get so caught up in the work.” When she turned around, she glared back at Cemal. “I was hoping you’d take care of your business needs and leave me alone to finish my own business. That is if you’re going to let me leave.”
He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “I do need you to fix my system. It’s been screwing up quite a lot, and it is driving me mad.”
“But?”
“I haven’t decided if I’ll let you go yet. I don’t want to send you away to a dungeon.”
“You have one?”
“No, but I think that I can convince you to stay with my own charm. Don’t be so literal, Juliana.”
She quirked her head at him and blushed. Maybe she did have an image in her head of a ninth-century dungeon deep in his palace with mildew and mold dripping from it. She was being far less culturally sensitive than she should have been. Besides, she could imagine what he could do back in his bedroom with just a few silk scarves and her willing body. She flushed and fanned herself. God, even with the air conditioning of the palace it was far too hot in the desert.
