Wrapped In Pleasure

by Brenda Jackson

  “Jo,” his fiancée quickly said. And he didn’t miss the subtle eye exchange between the two women.

  “Nice to meet you, Jo and Cel. And I am Monty,” he said, following their lead and providing only his first name. He proceeded to take a seat at their table and then glanced between the two ladies. “Are you tourists or natives?” he asked.

  “Tourists,” Cel said. “We’re in town taking in the sights and doing some shopping. What about you?”

  His smile widened. It was evident that Celine had made herself the spokesperson for the two. “I’m in the city rather frequently so I have a town house here,” he said.

  “You’re a businessman?”

  That question had been asked by Johari. He glanced over at her to respond and the words got caught in his throat. There was a pure lushness in her lips, a sensual fullness that any man would take pleasure in arousing. Once a woman’s lips became aroused the rest of her soon followed suit. Not every man knew the true tricks of the tongue, but he did and wouldn’t hesitate to use those tricks to his advantage.

  “Yes,” he said, forcing the word from between lips he would love to connect to hers, and the thought of her as the one he had been promised to marry and had every right to kiss sent a hot surge of desire through his entire body. “I’m a businessman.”

  “So you’re familiar with all the exciting places?” Johari asked with enthusiasm in her voice.

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. She was really hung up on having a great time. “Yes, Jo. In fact, I can take the two of you right now to a club known for its spectacular nightlife.”

  Her beautiful eyes lifted with more than a tinge of excitement. “Really?”

  “Yes. And if you’re interested, I have a private car outside that can take—”

  “We’re interested, but we prefer getting there on our own,” Cel quickly cut in to say. “Just tell us where it is.”

  Celine didn’t fully trust him, but he wasn’t bothered by it and thought it was a good thing she had her guard up. A part of him appreciated how protective she was on Johari’s behalf. “I can tell you where it is located. However, you won’t be able to get in without me. It’s a private club.”

  Celine lifted a brow. “How private?”

  He knew why she was asking, and again he appreciated her for doing so. “Nothing illegal. The people who are there prefer to be discreet and keep to themselves.”

  Celine was staring at him and he could tell she still wasn’t convinced, so he said, “I tell you what. I’ll give you the address and the two of you can catch a cab. I’ll meet you there and make sure you’re admitted inside.”

  He saw the looks being passed between the two women and said, “I understand if you’re hesitant about going and—”

  “No, we’ll go,” Johari said. Cel, he saw, merely rolled her eyes in frustration.

  He smiled. “Okay, and do you want to catch a cab or would you like to join me in my private car?”

  “We’ll catch a cab,” Cel said quickly, not giving Johari the chance to even open her mouth.

  “All right,” he responded. “It’s Club Chandler, located in the Trump International Hotel Towers.”

  “Trump Towers?” Celine asked, in a voice that said she was truly impressed.

  “Yes,” he said, pushing his chair back and standing. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Now I’m really having doubts about leaving you alone in New York,” Cel said once they were settled in a cab and on their way to the New York’s Upper West Side where Trump Towers was located. “If I hadn’t been with you tonight there’s no telling where you would be now. That man just said the key words and you were ready to take off.”

  Johari rolled her eyes. “I didn’t bring you along to replace Saud, Cel. I would not have gone with Monty until I was sure he was not a bad person.”

  Cel stared at her for a moment before asking, “And how were you going to determine that? He’s smooth and debonair, that’s for sure, and that chauffeur-driven limo confirms he’s got money. But still, I’m not all that certain how he got his wealth.”

  “He told us that he’s a businessman,” Johari said, looking out the window at the brightly lit buildings they passed. New York was a beautiful city and she had chosen it because her friends at Harvard said it was the place to go to visit and have a great time. She only had two weeks and she wanted to enjoy each and every single day.

  “But he conveniently didn’t say what type of business he was in. And he didn’t give us his last name.”

  “Nor did we give him ours,” Johari reminded her friend.

  Cel reached over and shook Johari’s shoulder to get her attention from looking out the window. “I’ve been living in his country a lot longer than you have, Jo, and I—”

  “You are too suspicious of everyone.”

  “I just want to be cautious,” Cel said.

  “And I just want to have fun,” Johari implored.

  Cel didn’t say anything for a moment, and then she opened her purse, pulled out her pair of designer sunglasses and slipped them over her eyes, smiled and said, “Okay, Cyndi Lauper, I get it. The girl just wants to have fun.”

  At Johari’s confused look, Cel gave her a hug and said, “I’ll explain it to you later.”

  “Thanks for taking care of this for me, Keith. And remember, tonight I am Monty to everyone.”

  Rasheed clicked off his cell phone after talking to the manager of Club Chandler. He then punched in numbers to make another call. A few moments later a male voice came on the line. “Hello.”

  “I have located your sister, Jamal.”

  “Praise Allah. Where was she?”

  “In New York City, but don’t ask me what she was doing when I found her,” Rasheed said, shaking his head, remembering. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  There was only a slight pause before Jamal responded. “I’ll let my parents know she’s been found. Thanks, Monty.”

  Rasheed then proceeded to make several more phone calls. Fifteen minutes later he was placing his cell phone back in his jacket as his limo moved through the streets of New York, competing with the yellow cabs for the right of way. Unknown to Johari and Celine, one of his men was following their cab in case they decided to change their minds about meeting him at the club. Rasheed had no intention of letting his future wife go missing again.

  Whenever Johari spoke, although she had fairly good English, she still carried a Mideastern accent. He liked the sound of her voice. There was something about it that made everything primitive within him respond to it.

  When they had walked out of the club to hail their cab, he hadn’t missed noticing just how tall, stately and elegant Johari was. Without really trying she had somewhat of a refined air about her, a certain sophistication that was paired with a sensuality so gripping he still was at a loss as to why the magnitude of it affected him so much.

  “All is well, Your Highness?”

  Ishaq’s question interrupted his thoughts. Ishaq’s grandfather, Swalar, had served Rasheed as his valet since Rasheed’s thirteenth birthday. At the age of seventy, Swalar had retired and his grandson had taken his place almost four years ago. Just like his grandfather, Ishaq was loyal and was employed as both Rasheed’s valet and bodyguard.

  “Yes, Ishaq, all is well. However, when you and I are in the company of Johari Yasir I want you to skip the Your Highness and refer to me only as Monty.”

  “Yes, Your Highness. Will we be remaining in this country for long?”

  Rasheed leaned back against the leather cushions of the car seat and then said, “I’m not sure. I’ll have an idea of just how long after tonight.”

  “Monty Madaris! It’s good seeing you again.”

  “Thanks, Keith, and let me introduce my special guests.” Rasheed proceeded to introduce Johari and Celine as merely Jo and Cel.

  He glanced around the huge private club. For a Wednesday night there was a huge crowd. Most were celebrities. There were also some w
ealthy businesspeople and notable creative types from the artistic community. But all were there only by special invitation. The media was not allowed, which afforded an even higher level of comfort and privacy.

  “There’s a table over there with a beautiful view of the city at night,” he said, leading the way and acknowledging the many greetings he received while doing so.

  “I can’t believe this place,” Celine said excitedly. “I could have sworn I saw Hugh Jackman sitting over there.”

  Rasheed smiled. “Maybe you did. A number of celebrities are in town this week for the premier of Sterling Hamilton’s latest movie on Friday night. It appears some people decided to arrive early.”

  Johari’s eyes widened. “The movie actor Sterling Hamilton?”

  “Yes. He owns this club.”

  “He does?” both women asked simultaneously, clearly stunned.

  His smile widened. He wasn’t surprised Johari had heard of Sterling due to his international appeal. “Yes, it’s named after his daughter and is just one of the many business ventures he’s involved in,” he said.

  Johari glanced around and when her gaze returned to his, she smiled and said, “The decor reminds me of a restaurant I once visited back home.”

  He lifted a brow. “Back home? Are you not from the United States?” he asked. He figured providing that information had been a major slip on her part, one she realized too late.

  He saw the nervous look exchanged between the two women before Johari answered. “No.”

  “And what country are you from?” he asked, as if wanting to know was nothing more than mild curiosity.

  “One that is far away,” Johari said, looking everywhere but at him.

  He nodded and, as if her vague response had satisfied any interest on his part, he then asked, “So what do you think of New York City so far?”

  As he’d expected, Celine did most of the talking, with Johari only adding bits and pieces along the way. That was fine with him since it gave him a chance to study Johari. Green had never been one of his favorite colors on a woman…until now. He’d always preferred his mistresses to wear colors that reflected, preferably red. But there was something about Johari and her green dress that was very pleasing to his eyes. It could have been that the top part of her lace dress was designed in such a way that it displayed the upper swell of her breasts, showcasing her ample cleavage. Full, firm and perfectly shaped, they were perfectly proportioned and could ripen any man’s imagination.

  Her breasts provided temptation beyond belief and fueled something deep within him. It didn’t take much to imagine taking the twin mounds into his hands, placing his mouth to them, using his tongue to lap away at her nipples in such a way that would make her cry out at the pleasure he would stir inside of her.

  “Monty, it’s good seeing you here tonight.”

  Rasheed pulled in a deep, calming breath before standing to greet his friend, Roderick Long, well-known former NBA star. “It’s good seeing you, too, Rod.”

  Rod glanced at the two women sitting at Rasheed’s table. “Some men have all the luck. Two beautiful women. May I get an introduction?”

  Rasheed laughed. “Yes, you certainly may. Jo and Cel, this is an old friend, Roderick Long.”

  Cel, Rasheed noticed, had managed to close her mouth, which had dropped open when Rod had approached their table. From Johari’s expression it was evident that she didn’t have a clue as to who Rod was.

  Rod reached out and shook both women’s hands; first Johari’s and then Cel’s. “It’s nice meeting the both of you, and Cel, would you care to dance?”

  Cel seemed surprised by the invitation but recovered quickly enough to say, “Yes, thanks.” She stood and Rasheed and Johari watched as she was whisked away without giving either of them a backward glance.

  Rasheed smiled. Thanks to Keith and Rod, everything was going according to plan. He needed to have time alone with Johari, without her overprotective friend hovering over them, analyzing his every word.

  He glanced over at Johari and could tell she was somewhat nervous about being alone with him. “Would you like to dance, as well?” he leaned over to ask her. “But before you answer I need to give you one stipulation.”

  Confusion clouded her dark eyes. “And what stipulation is that?”

  He leaned in closer and whispered, “In this club you aren’t allowed to dance on the tables.”

  Johari laughed before burying her face in her hands in shame. She then peeked out at Rasheed through spread fingers. “I can’t believe I actually did that, but I got carried away. The music stirred something in my heart, and I did what came naturally.”

  “Why is having a good time so important to you, Jo?”

  She dropped her hands from her face, glanced up at him. Who was this man with hard, piercing eyes one minute and gentle, caring eyes the next? And why did she wish she could bare her soul to him? Trust him. Tell him every single thing? It was a foolish notion to even consider such a thing. But for some bizarre reason it seemed as if she had known him her whole life.

  “Jo?”

  She blinked, suddenly realizing she was simply staring at him while he waited for an answer to his question. She could feel her heart thumping fiercely in her chest and knew that although she couldn’t tell him everything, she could at least tell him this much. “In two weeks I will be returning home to my country.”

  He nodded, didn’t say anything for a few moments and then asked, “How long have you been in the States?”

  “Two years.”

  Johari knew Monty was an intelligent man who was well aware that for whatever reason, she was being vague and withholding certain information from him. She didn’t expect him to fully understand, but that didn’t matter as long as he accepted it. She studied his face, saw his curious expression but hoped he didn’t pry further. Already she had placed herself at risk by revealing a few details. There was no doubt in her mind that even at this moment men her brother had employed were diligently searching for her, determined to find her and take her home. They were probably embarrassed that she was able to elude them for so long. A few of her friends from Harvard had gotten word to her that they had been questioned already, some of them more than once.

  He stood. “Ready to go?”

  She lifted a brow. “Go where?”

  The corners of his lips lifted in a smile. “To the dance floor, but not the same one Cel and Rod are using.”

  She glanced around the club and then looked back at him. “Is there another dance floor?”

  “Yes. It’s on a private balcony with a beautiful view of Central Park. Come on, I’ll take you there,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

  Johari nervously gnawed her bottom lip as she studied his eyes for a second and then his outstretched hand. She met his gaze again and asked, “What if Cel comes back looking for me? She will get worried.”

  “I’ll leave word with Keith as to where we will be.” He continued to hold her eyes and then he said in a soft, husky tone, “Trust me to take you dancing and bring you back when you are ready to return. All I want to do is to give you a few moments of enjoyment.”

  Johari’s heart continued to pound in her chest and then she placed her hand in his, felt the strength of his larger one encompassing hers. There was something about his touch that sent heat through her, making her fully aware of him and all his masculine sexuality. The fingers gripping hers were long, firm and strong.

  He gently pulled her out of her seat and, still holding tight to her hand, led her through the throng of people and straight to where his friend Keith was standing. “If Cel and Rod ask where we’ve gone, please let them know we’re up on the balcony.”

  Keith nodded with a smile. “Sure thing, Monty.”

  Still holding her hand, Monty led her out through a side door. She didn’t pull back in hesitation or offer any words of protest. He had told her where they were going and she trusted him to take her there and bring her back just as he said he w
ould do.

  The moment they stepped onto the elevator and the door closed on them Rasheed drew in a deep breath. He was not sure just how he felt about Johari trusting him so easily.

  He frowned, thinking they had met just hours ago, so there was no way she could be absolutely certain that he was not someone intent on doing her harm. Yet here she stood beside him with her small hand still firmly held by his larger one.

  She was staring straight ahead as the elevator moved slowly upward, but his gaze flickered downward to her outfit. He would bet the sum of all his investments that she had never dressed so provocatively before. His thoughts were drawn back to hours earlier when he had walked into that club to find her actually dancing on the table. He could just imagine what Jamal’s reaction would have been if their places had been switched and he had witnessed his sister displaying such outlandish behavior. Didn’t she know that her family was honor-bound to let her fiancée know of her behavior while in this country? Her rebellious conduct was definitely not something that they could sweep under a Persian rug and easily dismiss.

  And to think that this was the woman he was supposed to marry. The woman that he would marry.

  The thought of that only made Rasheed sigh and shake his head. The sound made her glance up at him. She smiled faintly and he saw something he could very well do without seeing in her. Trust.

  “Are we almost there, Monty?”

  Her question, spoken in an accent he loved hearing, invaded the quietness of the elevator and disturbed his already unsettled mind. “It’s the next floor,” he said, and before he could get the words totally out of his mouth, the elevator came to a stop and the door swooshed open.

  Tightening his hand in hers, he walked off the elevator with her by his side while wondering if she had any idea that he was taking her to his penthouse. If she didn’t know before, she knew now, he thought, when they stopped in front of a set of large double doors. He let go of her hand while he fished the key from his pocket.