by Ella Brooke
Turning on the water to as high a heat as he could stand, Jamsheed stood under the jets and let the water pound into his skin. Closing his eyes, he picked up some body wash and lathered up his hands. Then he brought those to the hard length of his member and began to stroke.
His motions were slow at first, just teasing his member, urging it to spring to full attention. Even if he had a few rounds last night with Megan and Christina—at least, he thought those were their names—he was hardly satisfied. There was a reason he’d only gone to bed with brunettes and blondes of late, a reason that he felt empty night after night no matter how beautiful the women he took to bed were. He didn’t want a single damn one of them. Ever since he hired Brenda McKann some months ago, the only woman on his mind had been the fiery redhead with her haunting emerald eyes and perfect, pouty mouth.
A mouth he imagined wrapped around his hardness so many times.
He moaned as he let his imagination wander, let his mind’s eye envision Brenda’s soft hands wrapped around his length instead of his own. They were so delicate, despite the labor she did. He’d noticed that today; noticed the way they were still manicured. Yes, dulled by her job, but the hint of the French tips and the line of white across the tip of her nails that drove him wild. Those hands would feel like velvet over his member, would fondle him with such skill unlike his hands that were just too large to feel as good as he wanted.
Lathering up his right hand even more, he let it roam down his body until it caressed his testicles, cupping them in one hand. He stroked them even as his left hand moved at a fevered tempo over his shaft. It wasn’t him alone. No, of course not. It was Brenda’s hands and Brenda’s greedy smile driving him to ecstasy.
His nerves sizzled, feeling like thousands of tiny points of heat and light as he continued pumping as hard as he could. If Brenda were here, he’d stroke her hair as she cared for him, admire the shining fire of her locks. Just thinking about her touching him, about the time coming for her mouth to take him…
That was enough.
He came then, spurting into the corner of his shower and struggling to stay upright on buckling knees. Fire danced over his skin, turning into a living, blazing inferno the more he thought about his perfect goddess with her mouth over his length, her eyes begging him for even more.
When he was done, he cleaned himself off and then stood under the shower head long after the water ran cold. Even with all the exertions of his shower and the chill, he was still at half-mast, still desperate for the woman he craved. For the one he’d so terribly offended and most likely blown his chance with.
Finally, when the water felt like shards of ice against his skin, Jamsheed stepped out and put on his robe. It wasn’t yet six o clock in London, but he was too tired to go out. Tomorrow, Brenda would be back to clean the apartment at eight a.m. and he had until then to think of a way to make everything up to her.
If he had a year, it wouldn’t be enough time.
***
Jamsheed’s phone blared loudly at two in the morning.
His heart stopped. That was already six o clock in Zomelia, and with his father’s declining health and advanced age, there was one distinct possibility for the call. When he turned on lights enough to see that his father’s main attendant, Basheera, was on the other end, Jamsheed tried to calm the frantic beating of his heart.
“Basheera, what’s wrong?”
“My sheikh, your father’s alive.”
He let out a long, shaky breath. “All right, but what happened?”
Basheera paused on the other end.
“Please,” he asked, his tone firm. “Delaying it is only worse. What happened to Father?”
“He had a stroke last night. He survived it, but he’s in a coma on life support. You have to come home to Zomelia right away. The doctors say he could die at any time. You’re needed now by your people.”
“Of course, anything that’s needed.” He said, his throat feeling dry.
“Then there’s one other thing.”
“I don’t understand. Is there something else I need to know about Father’s condition?”
Basheera sighed on her end. “There are certain rules about the succession in Zomelia, things your father was trying to change with parliament in the last few months as his blood pressure and other conditions worsened.”
“Huh?”
“To be declared a sheikh, you must have an heir.”
His hand clenched more tightly on the phone. “What? Why didn’t Father tell me?”
“He thought the rule was archaic and wanted it gone, especially since…”
“I have no children but Abir has several legitimate heirs already.”
Basheera hissed under her breath. “That weasel. Yes, they were working to try and undo it. Technically, parliament ruled that under current law you only need a pregnant mother, and the child growing inside of her counts as an heir.”
“I can’t just get any random woman pregnant before Father dies. He needs me and so does Zomelia. I’ll just come home, and we’ll get everything settled, make sure rules are changed accordingly.”
“They can’t be changed when the ruling family and line of succession is actively in flux. That was why your father was working to change that over the last few years as his health declined.”
“Dear Allah, so you’re saying I do have to pick the nearest random woman and just hope?”
“No, but you need an heir, Jamsheed and you needed one yesterday!”
Chapter Three
This can’t be happening.
The thought circled her brain over and over. Yesterday afternoon, her biggest problem boiled down to an embarrassing situation with her boss, Sheikh Rahal. Now, her daughter had forwarded her the lawsuit details from the embassy kid she accidentally plowed into. He was from Monaco, and his car had been custom made just for him—because of course, it couldn’t be just any Bentley. Since she owned Haley’s car and paid the auto insurance, then Brenda was being named as a co-plaintiff. They were being sued for a cool two million dollars. Not just because of the damaged car but “emotional distress.”
Well, she was feeling some massive emotional distress as well, and Haley had tried to downplay it as less than a million—as if she weren’t going to have to see the legal papers anyway. For her job description and rank, Sheikh Rahal paid her handsomely but it was far from enough to settle a multi-million-dollar lawsuit. Short of robbing several banks or possibly unearthing some lost family heirloom in the attic, she had no ideas.
She was utterly screwed.
On the other hand, it made her feel no sense of awkwardness at all the next morning when she reported bright and early to Sheikh Rahal’s penthouse. Okay, maybe her heart still beat a little bit faster than normal at the thought that maybe, just maybe, she’d see a repeat of his gorgeous chest and arms again. No such luck. When she used her key to let herself into the flat, Brenda found Sheikh Rahal waiting, his sleek, swimmer’s frame cutting and imposing silhouette when highlighted by the rays of the rising sun.
She coughed, unsure on if she’d come too early. “Sir? Is everything all right?”
He turned and for a moment, his mask had slipped. Usually, Sheikh Rahal was nothing but composed, but there was a slump to his shoulders and a heaviness under his lids that contradicted his usual image.
Still, he offered her a weak smile. “Brenda, I’m glad you came back.”
“Well, I do work here. I know I’m just the help, but I take pride in my job, sir, and I apologize for not knocking last time. I didn’t expect what happened.” Her face flushed and she was sure her face was as red as a fire hydrant. She’d always had a bad poker face. “I guess no one expects that.”
“We need to talk,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a heaviness in his tone she rarely heard from the billionaire playboy.
She stilled, scared that her accidental indiscretion yesterday had set things in motion she couldn’t control. If he were going to le
t her go, he could have just called her. It was worse to come prepared for work if she were about to be summarily dismissed. Narrowing her eyes back at him, Brenda tapped her foot before her.
“You don’t have to beat around the bush. I can see what you want. It’s written all over your face.”
His eyes widened, those amber orbs growing comically huge. “What? How could you? I didn’t make my decision until this morning.”
She set her feather duster on the ground or else she’d be tempted to throw it. “I need this job, Sheikh Rahal. I know that I made a huge mistake and broke protocol because I forgot to knock, but you have no idea the number of debts I have now. I’m going to have to get a second job or take out loans or rob a leprechaun for his gold… Something has to give. The last thing I can survive is being fired.”
Sheikh Rahal burst into laughter, doubling over and slapping his knees. “Really?”
She glared up at him. “I’m sorry that my life is so funny to you.” With that, she turned on her heels and started toward the door. Brenda only got a few steps before a strong hand clamped around her forearm.
Sheikh Rahal spun her around to face him. Again, his breath was hot on her cheek, and she could kiss him, except now she knew with painful certainty that he thought of her as nothing more than “the help.”
“Brenda, you don’t understand at all. I would never fire you. I’m the one who made you feel awkward, who flaunted far too much in front of you.”
Or not enough, depends on the angle, I guess.
She chased those naughty thoughts away and swallowed deeply before speaking. “What?” Her voice came out as a croak so Brenda tried again. “No, I was the one who barged in. I—”
He brought a long, finely tapered finger to her lips. “Shh, let me apologize for once. I’m serious. I hurt you, and I think I gave you the wrong impression.”
“I… Sheikh Rahal.”
“No,” he intoned, his amber eyes seeming to blaze back at her. “You can call me Jamsheed.”
She bit her lower lip but didn’t pull back from him. “Is that appropriate? I know we leaped over some pretty huge boundaries in our working relationship. It’s only been a few months, but I thought I was doing well at this job, and I didn’t want to give you any wrong ideas about me or how seriously I take my work.”
He shook his head and slid his broad palm down from her forearm to holding her right hand in his. “My father’s very sick, and I shall have to return to Zomelia right away.”
“Oh, I see.”
Her voice was flat. She worked out of his London penthouse. If he left back to his own home palace, then he’d dismiss her anyway. She shook her and chastised herself for thinking about her own pocket first. As far as she knew, Sheikh… Jamsheed had a great relationship with his father and constantly spoke well of the man. To lose a parent was rough. She lost her father a few years back to kidney cancer. The thought of how much grief and fear that had to be roiling through Jamsheed’s gut even now made her heart ache.
Squeezing his hand back, she offered him a kind smile. “Whatever you need, Jamsheed. I understand. Is there any way I can help you pack up faster? Is there anything I can do to make it a little easier for you?”
He frowned. “I wanted you to come with me. In fact, I had a special arrangement that I needed to talk about with you tomorrow night at Nobu.”
Her eyes widened but she didn’t dare pull her hand out of his; that contact with the warm flesh there was the only way she could keep telling herself that this day was real, and that she’d actually heard his words.
This has to be a dream.
“Or maybe you’re not into sushi?” he asked, his tone jovial but there was real worry in his eyes as they darted back and forth over her own.
“I love it, but is… Pardon me, Jamsheed, but would this be a date? I thought you might need a planning session to help with the arrangements to be made on the penthouse closing down. I don’t need dinner to do that.”
He shocked her yet again that morning by leaning down and kissing her cheek. “It’s assuredly a date, Brenda, and I have some other things to discuss with you and hopefully you’ll understand.”
She blinked at him as they parted. “I don’t mean to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I honestly do have to ask. Yesterday, I was just ‘the help’ when you were explaining me away to those other women. Now, you want to date me. Is this only because of your father’s ill health?”
Jamsheed stood taller and almost seemed to loom over her even as his piercing amber eyes never faltered in their gaze. “It’s about so many things, my fiery phoenix. Now, will you meet me tomorrow at seven or not?”
“I’d love to,” she said, even as her heart raced wildly, dragging all of her hopes with it.
***
“You have either work clothes or ones that scream ‘sexless nun,’” Anne said.
After she’d been let off work early that afternoon, Brenda went home and raided her closet, only to come to the conclusion she needed massive sartorial help. Even if Anne was a bit thinner than she was, the other woman was also around five-foot-eight and had excellent taste in clothes. On their level of salary, Anne had to be creative, and she combed every vintage and thrift shop in London a dozen times over. It led to an amazing cache of clothes.
But this was Jamsheed, and thus a DefCon 1 Dating Emergency. After all, Brenda had sworn off dating until Haley had gone off to college and she, herself, had moved to London. She didn’t want to have a parade of random men in and out of her daughter’s life. While she’d had a few lovers since coming to England, no one had been special or lasted more than a month or so.
Maybe because she’d been waiting for something bigger, for more.
Jamsheed was all of that, but she had no idea what he saw in her, not when she was just a plain redheaded maid and he could date any model, heiress, or actress he wanted.
“You are so lucky, darling, that you have a friend like me.” Anne tossed her a short red dress with coloring that matched her own fiery locks perfectly. “You need to try that on.”
She blushed. “I’ve seen you wear that. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination!”
“I think that’s exactly the look you need for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Regal,” her friend trilled.
Brenda rolled her eyes but headed into her bathroom. She couldn’t fault her friend for encouraging her to try something daring. After all, if she wanted to stay single and sexless, Brenda would have stuck to her usual wardrobe. This was the chance of a lifetime, and it deserved the dress of a lifetime.
Shoving the red silk over her head, she adjusted it and then groaned. It hugged her curves a bit more tightly than it did on Anne, so close that it fit like a second skin. The low neckline dipped provocatively over her cleavage, while the hem came to just mid-thigh. Spinning around, she caught a glimpse in the bathroom mirror and even noticed how pert it made her ass look.
The last thing Brenda looked like was herself; she just wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
“I shouldn’t be out having a good time right now; I have to figure out everything with Haley.”
Anne knocked on the door. “You have to come out sometime, love. Besides, I can hear you talking to yourself in there so I’m betting you’re done. Also, if Sheikh Rahal sweeps you off your feet, then your money troubles are over!”
She yanked the door open even as she glared at her friend. “I wouldn’t use him like that. I don’t care about the money.”
“I was just saying.”
“Anne, I know you want me to try and not worry for a night, but I am. I have so much weighing on me, and the last thing I want to do is feel like a gold-digger!”
Anne’s facial expression froze, a cool look that told Brenda she’d gone too far. Her friend was different than she was, more brash, but that didn’t make her views wrong. Anne wasn’t a gold-digger, but she also wasn’t a wallflower like Brenda. She was willing and able to grab her chances at happiness and, while s
he stumbled, Anne was out there and living her life. Brenda could barely remember the last time she had a date, let alone recall the touch of a man.
“I never said that, Bren. You know I wouldn’t. I’m just saying that sometimes it’s okay not to feel like you have to support everything, that you have to be brave. It could be nice to think about it like a Cinderella story. Maybe he wants to whisk you off your feet after the other day. Maybe he realized he wants more from you.”
“Or maybe he’s going to do something really nice for me before he fires me.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Anne asked, even as she handed Brenda a gorgeous faux-emerald costume-jewelry caliber necklace. Brenda’s idea to call her friend over for a fashion emergency had been correct. After all, Anne had an amazing eye and that necklace was perfect, not just for setting off her dress but also her dark green eyes. “If he wanted to make you redundant, he’d have done it by now. This is something else,” she continued, smiling as Brenda clasped the necklace around her throat.
“Is it too much?” Brenda asked, hoping desperately it wasn’t.
I don’t even recognize myself. I could almost be Cinderella right now.
Those thoughts flitted through her mind as she spun around before the mirror. “Wow, you outdid yourself, Anne.”
“Exactly, love. I did that because I know that you deserve this. Don’t worry about Haley tonight. Just go out there and woo your Prince Charming. Or, er... Sheikh Charming, as it were.”
Brenda bit her lower lip and smoothed the silk of her dress down over her thighs. Her palms were still sweaty, and she hoped that none of it had rubbed off on the delicate fabric.
“I’ll go and see what he wants. After the last day or two, I can’t believe that anything resembling good luck could be coming my way.”
Anne clamped her hands on Brenda’s shoulders. “You, my dear, are due for something good and the universe knows it. So go out there and reap everything.”
