by Ella Brooke
“Unacceptable,” he said, but before she could become alarmed at that, he was standing up.
“I have a few things to take care of here, but I want you to head back up to your rooms. Do what you need to do, but at six sharp, I am going to be taking you out for a good meal.”
“But, I…”
“I am not going to listen to any protestations,” he said, mock fiercely. “I want to make sure that good service is rewarded, so I am taking you out. Is that clear, Danielle?”
“Yes… Faris,” she said softly, and she was rewarded with a smile that was as warm as the sun.
“Good,” he said, already striding toward his door again. “I will come by your room at six, so be ready.”
She was alone again, and she felt as if she had somehow walked through a hurricane. An hour ago, she had been happily doing her work and making sure that her first rough translation of a piece in Urdu flowed well. Now she was going out to dinner with the sheikh of Aswar.
Things move fast around here, she thought ruefully, and then she realized that she was going to be going to dinner with Faris, as if they were on a date, as if they were a couple.
The thought threw her into a tailspin, and gulping hard, she gathered up her things to go to her apartment. Thank God for Elise DuConte and her magical skills. At least she wouldn’t embarrass herself over how to dress.
After all, thought Danielle with a flinch, there are so many other things to embarrass myself with…
*
Faris finished up his work for the day quickly and efficiently, and then before he packed up to leave his work, he paused, glancing at the door as he seemed to do so often these days.
He was aware of Danielle’s little crush, had been for a few weeks now. He wondered if it was entirely kind to take someone who seemed to be so infatuated with him on what could be seen as a date, but he brushed the doubt away. She was an adult, and as far as he could tell, she was a complete professional, aside from some odd anxieties and quirks.
Faris reminded himself of how young and inexperienced his translator seemed, but likely, nothing was going to happen. He had been busy for a little while, that was all, and he hadn’t been able to make any time for any serious female companionship since he came back from Dubai. Even if he had been deprived for a short while, however, that didn’t mean that his tastes or preferences had changed overnight. No matter how long he had gone without, his interests still lay with women who were certainly more womanly than Danielle.
Though as he started toward his own rooms, he had to admit that she was more attractive than he had initially thought. There was a kind of elegance to her features, a mixture of intelligence and an understated beauty that was hard to define. Nothing about her had changed, at all, but now he found her looks more pleasing than not.
He shrugged.
Dinner was going to be just fine, and after that, he should perhaps look into finding some female company. Semele had stopped calling, but there were a few other women who would be happy to hear from him.
*
In her own rooms, Danielle was coming to the sad realization that even when her wardrobe had been prepared by a professional famous all over Europe and the Middle East, she still had no clue what to wear. Her closet was full of beautiful clothes in a veritable rainbow of colors, and yet she couldn’t choose which one was going to work best for a dinner with her boss.
She had showered, re-braided and pinned her hair, and put on the underthings that Elise had sent on as part of her wardrobe, but now the clock was ticking toward six, and she still had no clue. In that moment, she wished that she had girlfriends, women she could rely on to give her good information about what to wear and how the night might go, but she was alone and she had to do the best that she could.
Finally, almost at random, she chose a dress that was a warm golden color, one that she felt was a little more elegant than the others. It fell down to the tops of her feet, but the shoulder straps were narrow, leaving her arms free, and the neckline swooped down low, baring her throat and her collarbones. It was still tasteful, though Danielle knew that it had more to do with her scanty curves than any design of the dress itself.
After she put it on, there were only a few more moments for her to add a small pair of gold earrings to her ensemble and to slip on a pair of shoes before the clock struck six. A few seconds after that, there was a knock at the door, and Danielle took a deep breath.
Well, too late to worry about what I look like now…
She opened the door, and for a moment, her confidence wavered. Faris had changed into charcoal slacks and a deep jewel-blue shirt, only he stood staring at her, his eyes intent on her form, and Danielle had to stop herself from shrinking back.
“Is… This is one of the dresses that Ms. DuConte sent me,” she said in a rush. “Is it bad? I’m sorry, I don’t know where we’re going or what we’re going to do or anything like that…”
She might have kept going, but Faris shook his head, reaching for her hand. She was so stunned that she gave it to him without thinking, and he was pulling her gently along with him.
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with your dress,” he said, his voice a deep rumbling purr. “You look amazing in it.”
“Oh!” she said in surprise and then finally remembered to thank him.
“I am glad you like it,” she confessed. “I mean, you paid for it. I would hate to think that you’re not getting your money’s worth.”
Something about that made him look at her, and there was such a deep scrutiny to it that she nearly started blushing and stammering again. Before she could make an absolute fool of herself, he shook his head and started walking again.
“That is not something I worry very much about,” he told her briskly. “When it comes to getting my money’s worth, I do very well.”
The restaurant he took her to turned out to be an elegant French restaurant, one that was filled with diners who looked on enviously as they were escorted to a private table set apart from the others in a shallow alcove.
“This is one of my favorite spots to eat when I’m in Aswar,” Faris said easily. “They keep a table for me.”
“It’s lovely,” Danielle said, resisting the urge to look around like a tourist. “I’ll be honest, I’m dramatically afraid of embarrassing you…”
He laughed a little, shaking his head.
“Don’t worry about it. This is food, that is all, and as long as you are appreciative of the cook’s efforts and engaged, that’s all that is required.”
Danielle appreciated his words, but when she opened the menu, the words swam in front of her. She was fluent in French, but there was such a variety that she could barely keep one dish straight from the others. She knew that Faris was going to be paying, but a single glimpse at the price of the entrees was enough to make her nervous.
She must have made some kind of noise because Faris glanced up at her, eyes twinkling with amusement.
“So do you really not read French, or…?”
“I read French just fine,” she retorted, “but my experience with France in general is just written. About the only French food I’ve eaten is french fries, and the rest of this… I really want to try, but there’s so much on the menu…”
Faris chuckled.
“Well, french fries are actually Belgian, but would you like a hand? I can order something for you, if you like.”
“Please,” she said with relief, closing her menu. “I’m pretty omnivorous, and about the only thing I don’t like is organ meat, so as long as you stay away from the liver, I’ll probably be just fine.”
“Of course,” he said with a laugh, and then he turned to the approaching waiter to give their order.
She was so entranced by the fluid way he ordered their food that she forgot to pay attention to what it was he was actually ordering.
Oh well, I’m sure it’ll be fine when it gets here.
“So you haven’t eaten outside of the manor since you g
ot here?” he asked presently. “I’ll admit that Aswar doesn’t have the same delights that Dubai does, but…”
“Oh, it’s no reflection on Aswar,” Danielle said hurriedly. “It has more to do with… well, me.”
Faris raised his eyebrows at that.
“Does it?”
She blushed a little.
“Well, I’ve traveled all over the world, both as a kid and when I grew up, but in general, I’m a homebody. I get a little nervous when I’m out, and I don’t have a real reason to be. That, plus the fact that the kitchen at the manor is amazing and that no one seems inclined to tell me to pay for my meal… well, I like things simple, that’s all.”
“Very simple indeed,” he said. “The kitchen staff is very good at what they do, but their specialty is mostly solid Aswar fare. Are you having them making you sandwiches or something?”
She shook her head. The idea of having someone stop in their daily jobs to make her something special, even if it was as simple as a sandwich made her uncomfortable.
“No, I just usually have what they’re having,” she said. “It’s all so good, though! There was this one pepper dish, with lamb, I think, and cinnamon? It was amazing, and I wish I had caught the name…”
Faris, for some reason, looked impressed.
“I know the one you mean,” he said. “You liked it? Most foreigners are nervous about… well, anything that isn’t a hamburger, if I must be honest.”
“Not me,” Danielle said with a slight laugh. “I grew up with really dull food, like slices of cheese on white bread, things like that. I never went hungry, not really, but food was always a pleasure, something fun and exciting to try. I’m really lucky that I don’t have any allergies or anything like that…”
She trailed off, wondering if she had said too much, but Faris leaned in closer. To Danielle’s surprise, he looked deeply interested in what she had to say. Before she could become more flustered and nervous about his scrutiny, he spoke again.
“So you have traveled a great deal and tried a great deal of food… what have you liked best?”
“Oh, that’s easy!” she said, relieved. “If I have to pick, it was probably this amazing herring sandwich in Denmark…”
Faris was frankly dubious about the idea of a herring sandwich being someone’s favorite, and before she knew it, Danielle was launching into an impassioned defense of pickled fish on a hot loaf of bread, eaten on the edge of a bitter winter sunset in Copenhagen. To her surprise, he knew the city well and had plenty to say about the local culture.
She didn’t know when she started relaxing, but after the food came, she realized that her throat was actually a little raw from how much they had been talking.
“This is amazing,” she said, after trying the first bites of her lemon chicken. “I love it; it’s tart and tender and delicious…”
Faris chuckled a little.
“Good. If you hadn’t liked it, I would have had to be a gentleman and offered to swap you my veal for it.”
How strange it was that a man as bold and uncompromising as her boss could be such good company, she mused.
If Danielle were honest with herself, she would have said that she didn’t exactly care for men who were as large and as fierce as Faris. She might have felt her heart beat a little faster whenever he came near, but men of his sort had always made her nervous.
But I feel totally comfortable with him, she mused. It seems like we’re not running out of things to talk about, and when we’re quiet… it’s just so comfortable.
She could feel her infatuation growing deeper with every moment, and truthfully, the only thing that was likely keeping her from making a complete ass of herself was the fact she was convinced that he was completely uninterested in her. After all, grown-up dress and fancy restaurant or not, she was less than ten years from being the gawky girl at school that the boys had asked out on dates as a joke.
However, as much as she remembered her role, he didn’t seem to see her that way. Instead, they ate, they talked, and he leaned in as if he were genuinely fascinated with what she had to say. They weren’t drinking anything more complicated than sparkling water, but she could feel the attention going to her head, making her bolder, making her feel as if she were someone else.
Normally, Danielle would have said that she liked herself well enough, that she had a good time and was a good person. However, right then, looking across the table at one of the most fascinating and handsome men she had ever met, she embraced the newer, bolder version of herself that she could see.
The new Danielle was confident, assured, and utterly in command of herself. She spoke her mind, and she didn’t care what other people thought. It was exciting, and at the moment, at least, it seemed as if Faris was happy to play along.
They finished their food and shared a dessert, a melting sweet confection of pastry dough and cream, and when she looked into Faris’s eyes, Danielle felt as if she were falling through the darkness, completely unafraid of what the landing would bring.
She wasn’t sure when she had made her decision. All she knew was that when he laughed and reached across the table to touch her hand, she felt warm and wonderful and that she didn’t know much, but she didn’t want this feeling to end.
He offered her his arm when they left the restaurant, and startled at her own bravery, she settled her hand on his thigh as they left. She blushed a little, but she remembered seeing an acquaintance do it to her boyfriend, who was driving them all to an after-school event long ago.
Faris looked a little startled at her gesture, but then when he looked at her, she could see that his eyes were darker, as if the sensuality of her touch had triggered something in him.
“That feels good,” he told her softly.
She might have stammered an apology and removed her hand, but then his hand came down over hers, holding it there.
“I like it,” he said. “Shall I return us to the manor, or would you like to do something else?”
“The… the manor, please,” she murmured, and she could feel herself reverting to who she was before. She fought it off desperately. She felt as if she were on the verge of something new, some kind of metamorphosis that would let her become someone amazing and exciting.
They drove in silence, but throughout the short drive, she could feel the heat of his hand on hers. At some point, he turned her hand over, and absently, he traced his fingertips over the lines of her palm. The feeling was ticklish at first, but as she took a deep breath to avoid giggling out loud like a ninny, she gasped at how sensitive the skin was there.
“I didn’t know I was that sensitive,” she said with a sigh.
They were pulling up to the manor, where a man came out to take the car, and then Faris was escorting her back to her room. She wondered if there was a kind of hurry to his step, and it warmed her that he was just as excited about this as she was.
At the door to her rooms, however, he turned to her, his eyes serious.
Oh God, he’s had second thoughts…
“I want you.”
His words were rough, and his voice was barely more than a growl. It sent a shiver through her, but it wasn’t fear at all. Instead, there was a sensuality inside her that seemed to be uncoiling, spreading out, bathing her in its warmth. She felt herself swaying toward him but stopped at the last minute.
“I want you,” she murmured helplessly, and he nodded.
He reached up to graze her cheek with his knuckles before cupping the side of her face with his hand. God, he was a big man, but all she wanted was to press closer, to feel more of his touch.
“That is good,” he said, “but Danielle, you must be very certain. If you let me into your apartment… we will make love. I… do not have much control now, and I will still walk away if you want me to. I’ll do that now. Later on, I might not have as much control.”
It took her a moment to understand what he was saying, but instead of being frightened off, she found herself nodding.
“I understand,” she said, “and you don’t need to worry. I want you too much. Please… come inside with me.”
She gasped as he bent down and kissed her, pressing her against the door. She had been kissed before, but they were quick and shallow things, or slobbery and unwelcome. This kiss from this man, his lips mastering hers and his tongue sliding between her lips, made her crave more. He tasted wonderful to her, like something perfect and dark, warm and gorgeous.
When he finally lifted his head, she worked the lock with shaking hands. When they were both in her rooms with the door locked securely behind them, he simply lifted her in his arms.
“You’re strong!” Danielle murmured in surprise, and he chuckled.
“You weigh as much as a half-grown cat,” he informed her. “It makes it easy to do this…”
He strode to her bedroom as if it was his by right, and when he laid her down on the neatly made covers, he wasted no time in leaning down to kiss her again. He came over her like a storm, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his kisses falling like lazy rain on her mouth, her cheeks, her jaw, and her throat.
Danielle felt almost drunk from kissing him. She looped her arms around his neck, allowing him to kiss her as she pleased. After a short while, however, the need rose up in her to start returning the kisses. Even if her kisses felt clumsy and inexperienced compared to his, she felt the shivers of pleasure that she was giving him running through his body, arousing her in turn.
“You are wearing too many clothes,” he murmured, and that was all the warning she got before he rolled her over on her belly. She whimpered as he kissed a line from the nape of her neck down her bared shoulders to the zipper at the back of her dress. She thought he would simply strip it down immediately, but Faris surprised her again when he inched it down instead, kissing every new patch of skin that was revealed. When it was completely open, his hands got rougher, and she could feel the passion surging in him. He worked the dress over her head, and she heard the rough purr of ripping fabric. She made a sound of consternation, but Faris only laughed.
