by Ella Brooke
“Not everything in life requires careful and constant deliberation.”
“Something as big as moving across the planet does need that. I can’t just be spontaneous. I’ve dallied more than I should have with work anyway, and now I’m a few days behind.”
“As if Ms. Grant cares or notices. She needs my recommendation and my great word of mouth to get other royals to buy this once it’s off beta test.”
“Yes, but I just…sometimes you have to hear the word no, Cemal. That was your biggest problem in high school. You were that bad boy always pushing the edge—smoking where you shouldn’t, skipping class, sneaking in booze under the bleachers. Some days I thought you did it just so you would have an excuse to argue with the teachers and push back against them. The rules exist for a reason.”
He stalked closer to her. While her heart beat fiercely in her chest, Juliana didn’t move. She just stared up into those fierce amber eyes, the ones that had rarely brooked argument from her in the past. That had to change.
Cemal towered over her and reached down to force her chin up, to force her to look at him. “You hide behind the rules. You do the good girl thing for everyone. You think I can’t look someone up on Facebook, find out more about a three-year engagement?”
“Why would you even?” she breathed, her voice a whisper.
“Because I wanted to know even more about how your life had grown and changed since high school. You waited for him to see you the way I see you. Seven or more years wasted being the good girl for him, and now you’re alone except for me. The rules don’t have to be followed.”
She snorted and broke away from him.
“I assume because you have enough money, no one ever has to tell you what to do?”
“Well, yes, but also because sometimes the rules are foolish and they only exist to shove us down, to keep us from reaching our full potential.”
“And how can I reach any potential if I just run away from my life right now to be with you?” she asked, her tone plain and clear. “I care about you, I do, but I’m reeling and I don’t know what’s wrong or right. I know what’s fun, but that can’t last forever.”
“You’re using me?”
“No, I’m making the best of the week, but I can’t just leave the United States on a dime.”
“Then that’s unreasonable!” he said, before rushing back out of the room.
Chapter Eight
“She’s so arrogant!” Cemal said, pacing across his room. As he turned another circle by his nightstand, he picked up one of the million ornate lamps in the palace and tossed it across the room, a small measure of satisfaction coursing through him when the tacky thing shattered against the wall. “How dare she say I only break the rules.”
A wry voice chuckled behind him and he turned to see his mother enter his room. “Trust me. I think that Allah was testing me. It took us years to have you, and you were as rambunctious and tiring as at least three sons.”
“Oh, it’s late,” he said, even as he walked to the wall to scoop up the porcelain mess he’d left behind with his lamp.
She shook her head as she sat down on his ottoman. “It’s only ten. I’m sixty, not ninety and in a home. Besides, I was trying to enjoy my novel, but I find that a bit hard with shouting matches and breaking lamps in my home.”
Cemal kept his eyes on the floor before him. If he looked at her too closely, then his mother would be able to see right through him. Granted, she always had been, but he might have a chance if she couldn’t see his face redden or his eyes dart around.
“I shouldn’t have done that. I apologize.”
“Just because we can replace such things, doesn’t mean we need to work hard to bust them in the first place.”
“I know…I just was—”
“Throwing a complete fit,” she said, even as her lips quirked into a smile as enigmatic as any Sphinx. “My son, can I ask what has you so angry? I think I’m just doing you the courtesy. I assume that the problems stem from a certain young lady staying in our palace this week.”
“You know that it’s more than that.”
“Yes, believe me. Your father and I had quite a few phone calls from St. Paul’s about the Caine family. She’s quite beautiful. I can see why you were so willing to get into trouble for her.”
“It’s more than that. I felt we were truly rekindling something, but this evening she basically said that she sees this as a passing fancy, whatever she wants until she leaves. I’m not a toy!”
His mother shook her head. “Maybe you need to step back and actually listen to what she was saying and not what she was almost saying.”
“I just…I assumed that she’d be staying longer than her job needed her to, that she’d want to do far more with me than go on dates.”
“You mean live here as a mistress?” his mother asked, her tone icier than before. “Your father and I never minded your dalliances in your youth, but we don’t want you to think that it’s alright to keep a mistress you have no intention of marrying.”
“Father had his harem.”
“And you can’t invite a Western woman here indefinitely unless there are real plans behind it.”
“Fine!” he shouted, tearing at his hair so hard he thought he’d pull out chunks of it. Between his mother and his lover, it felt as if he couldn’t win. One thought he didn’t have any plans and the other thought that he was rushing her into full queenly duties as the sheikha. Truthfully, he saw no reason he couldn’t do that. If only she’d give up her ideas about her career. “I don’t understand, Mother, how Juliana wouldn’t want to stay here. She’s royalty here, the VIP at every event. Back home, she runs code.”
“Maybe she likes running code. Did you ever think of that?”
“But I’m offering her any luxury she could imagine. If she stays, she’ll be the most pampered woman on Earth.”
His mother chuckled. “Oh, child, is that what you think women want?”
“She’s had a rough time in love, and I was a big part of that before. I want to make it up to her now.”
“By sticking her in a gilded cage? She won’t appreciate that. If she was that kind of girl, my son, then you wouldn’t be interested in her anyway,” his mother replied, still laughing a little.
That irritated him too, the way his mother seemed to know so much more than he ever would. Of course, he had no clue about women. He knew how to seduce them, but he’d never wanted to keep any but Juliana and he was failing all over again with that.
“What?”
“Don’t take that tone with me.”
He bowed his head obediently. “I apologize, Mother. I just don’t understand what’s so funny.”
“My son,” she said, standing and walking to him.
His mother put one hand on his cheek, and for a moment, he felt like he was a child again and she could protect him from everything. Now it was his turn to keep her safe, along with the entire kingdom.
“I didn’t just stay in the palace all day, trying on dresses and fretting over how to be beautiful for your father, did I?” his mother asked.
“No.”
“Because sometimes there’s more to life, even if you have the love you want and need. I also had the charities I started, the foundations that, to this day, work to make Jordan and the Arabian Peninsula a better place. I’m hardly an expert on computers, but it’s clear to me that coding and her work gives Ms. Caine the same sense of purpose. You can’t just whisk her away and keep her in a palace on no notice, no matter how charming you think you are.”
“I’m very charming.”
His mother dropped her hand and shook her head ruefully. “So was your father. It’s a dangerous skill he had, and you use it wisely with her. I suggest, my son, that you show her the best time you can while she’s still here. But you start with an apology and no more pressure on her. That’s more than fair. Whatever she decides once she’s finished is her choice to make. If you want to have hope with her in the long run,
then you have to respect that she has that right to choose.”
“And what if she doesn’t choose me?”
“If you loved her, you’d want her to choose what’s best for her.”
“But I am what’s best.”
“Not if you don’t let her have the career and identity she needs, my son, and that’s the real gift of your father. He was old fashioned in so many ways, I can’t lie about that. I never cared for the harem system.”
He looked away. Even now, he couldn’t fathom how badly that must have hurt his mother. While he lionized his father in most things, Cemal didn’t understand that one throwback his father insisted on. It burned that his father had done that, made him so angry for his mother.
“But?” he asked, his voice quiet.
“But he did know how to respect my wishes and my autonomy. When his father and mother wanted me to be a ‘more proper’ wife, he let me create my foundations.”
“No one lets you do anything, Mother.”
“He supported me then. If you really love Juliana, then you have to support her too, and be willing to take the chance she’ll stay, not just force her.”
He nodded as he considered her words. They were sane and tempered, everything that his mother was good at, but it still scared him. There was that risk, and as a sheikh he was used to always having the upper hand. Now Juliana Caine had come back into his life and held all the cards. He’d just have to take the chance that she’d want to cash in her chips with him.
Damn it.
It all seemed to come down to chance.
***
Standing outside of her door wasn’t nerve racking. He wasn’t someone who got nervous. That wasn’t how kings were raised. However, it was confusing. His stomach was still flip-flopping with anger, and his mind was whirring, moving a million miles an hour. All his thoughts kept begging the question of what he’d do if she left him. If she were any other woman, he’d just call up another or prowl an exclusive club in Monte Carlo. But he’d learned after fifteen fruitless years that there was no one else like Juliana.
No time like the present.
Rapping on the door, he waited until she opened it.
“Yasmeena, I need to get some rest. The hardware is going to be a pain to get through the next couple of days and I’m—”
“Fine?” he asked, looking down at her.
“You could say that,” she said, even as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought I made everything clear earlier tonight. I have work.”
“I know, but I called Ms. Grant and let her know that there were a few unforeseen complications and you’d been working yourself to death in the heat. I said you needed a few extra days, and she agreed. All of Simco, it seems, is invested in making sure I’m a customer who gives glowing reports.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t have a right to mess with my job.”
“I didn’t. I raved about you and your work, said I’d never had better help from the company and that I was going to tell every sheikh and royal I knew about the technology and its impeccable service plan. Again, Ms. Grant is thrilled.”
“I…that’s so nice,” she said, her tone softening even as she arms fell to her sides. “But I really will have it done in a day or two.”
“I know, but I wanted to take you somewhere.”
“A wedding chapel?” she snarked.
“No,” he said, even if her sarcasm bit into him. Frankly, he’d have no objection to calling up the Imam right now. “You’re right. I have pressed too hard. I was so happy to have you back in my life, and I assumed you’d want things without asking you. I didn’t think you only viewed this as a vacation, a fun getaway and a poke.”
“I don’t…not exactly,” she hedged. “I don’t know what any of this is, but I didn’t think I’d have to have it all figured out in only a few days.”
“Fine, but I was offering to take you somewhere truly special. It’s for fun. I won’t beg you to stay longer and be my sheikha, but you promise to not just shove me away either. At the end of your time here, I’ll ask you again what you want to do, and I’ll be ready for any answer.”
“You will? You seemed ready to wrap me in bubble wrap and shove me in a tower earlier,” she said, even as her lips quirked up in a wry smile.
“Yes, but I’ve had a change of heart. I want us for as long as we have, Juliana. We’ve missed out on fifteen years, and whatever we have left, I refuse to miss more of it. So, will you come to Tunisia with me?”
“What’s in Tunisia?”
“You’ll see.”
Chapter Nine
“You seem contented,” he said as she curled up in her leather seat on his private jet.
“I have to admit that I love flying with style. It was great being shuttled out here to begin with and even more of a pleasure when I can do it with someone I do care about.”
Cemal’s jaw clenched a little. He loved her, knew he had back in high school and that he did now. He’d spent years hoping against hope that she’d come back to him. Every time she said that she only cared for him felt like sipping arsenic from an open bowl. It burned through his throat and his organs, leaving him a shriveled shell of himself.
“Then that’s a good thing.”
“I can’t imagine what there is for me in Tunisia. I’ve never been there before.”
“I assumed as much,” he said, winking at her. If she thought that she was going to wriggle the secret out of him, then tough. Those details he was going to keep from her. Well, unless she wanted to provide incentives for him to spill. “However, I might give you a good hint.”
“Oh, so is this like twenty questions?”
“Not exactly,” he said, unbuckling his seat and then gesturing to his bathroom. His largest jet had a built-in bedroom with a king bed, but he’d chosen something a bit smaller and more sensible for just the two of them. Besides, it hadn’t escaped his imagination that he’d be trying some things out with her, things that he assumed had to be new for Juliana. “I was thinking of something more fun.”
She blushed, her pale cheeks going as red as a fire hydrant when she realized the true meaning behind his words. “We can’t!”
“I own the plane.”
“The captain and copilot are still here!” she hissed.
“I suppose so,” he replied. “But they have a soundproof cabin.”
She shook her head, even though the smile spreading across her lips told him she was trying to sound shocked because it was what was expected of her. He knew his little kitten well in some ways, and she loved to take every opportunity she got to pleasure him. Cemal could understand why. He felt the same way about her. Together, they were like combustible chemicals that couldn’t help being mixed together to start a fire, to let something new and blinding rage between them.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m serious. Maybe I break all the rules, but you never even try, Juliana. Don’t you want to go back to the States with good stories? Don’t you want to be a little bit bad?” He drew closer to her. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “You sure seemed to be when I fucked you with my tongue up against an alley wall. This is far more private. After all, kitten, don’t you want to join the mile-high club?”
She mewled then, a delicate sound escaping her throat that had his erection hard and straining against the fabric of his jeans. Dear Allah, how could the woman do that to him with just a few movements? With just one sound?
“I would,” she said, her voice husky.
“Then follow me,” he said, reaching out his hand.
She unbuckled her seat belt and let him lead her to his bathroom. Technically, they could do it out in the main floor, but as an ode to the actual mile-high club and for ease of cleaning, he wanted to do it somewhere slightly more secluded. Besides, his plane’s bathroom was good sized with a marble double sink and a shower big enough for three. He’d tested that out on more than one occasion.
As they scooted into
the more removed accommodations, he unzipped himself and then tore open the foil packet in his jeans pocket. There was no need to be dangerous in everything. A child was clearly the furthest thing from her mind, and even if his mother wanted him to settle down and sire an heir, it wasn’t what he wanted yet either. Once he was ready, he smiled back at his lover.
“I’ve loved exploring you, feeling every inch of your mouth on my body. I’ve craved you, and even the daily taste of your nectar hasn’t been enough for me.”
She smirked back at him, and her eyes seemed to twinkle as well. “Why do I feel there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”
“However,” he said, playing semantics a bit. “I want to be inside you. I want to thrust my hips and feel all of me deep in your core. I want all of you.”
“That you can have,” she said, her voice a throaty purr.
Cemal lowered his arms and encircled her waist, easily pulling her into his grasp. Juliana responded by wrapping her legs around his torso and giving them a tight grip. He was glad that she’d worn another kaftan, this time something in an indigo that complemented her eyes. It was child’s play to ease the silk up over her thighs and expose the soft curls at the apex of her mons. With one hand, he traced over those delicate tufts of hair and massaged them; it made him smile and his erection harden further to watch her throw her head back and moan.
“God, yes.”
“I’m not a deity, but I love the compliment, kitten.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” he said, even as he pulled on the waistband of her panties, glad that wherever she bought them, the cheap, lacy things shredded easily in his grip. “Access. I love it.”
“These cost money!” she huffed, slapping playfully at his hand.
He dropped the panties to the ground and then shifted his hips enough to make sure that the tip of his member was tracing its own delicate patterns over the skin of her most sensitive lips.
“I need you, kitten,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes. “Don’t ever forget that. No matter what happens, never forget I need you.”
