Sheikh's Scandalous Mistress (10 page)

It wasn’t.

“I’m not,” she said, rushing off to shower, even though she still had time. Some things were just too hard to talk about.

***

It was loneliest at night, among other things.

She’d read tons of pregnancy books. As a reporter all her life, the one thing Amanda believed in was always acquainting herself with new situations. She’d devoured
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
and so many other parenting books already. The one thing she hadn’t been aware of before her reading was that hormones went crazy. Oh, she’d assumed they did in certain ways, but not in a way that would exacerbate her sex drive. She was aroused all the time now, and her dreams plagued her. Lately, she dreamed of those piercing amber eyes that wouldn’t stop haunting her.

And everything else.

Slipping her pajama pants off, she also kicked off her covers. It was harder now to get to her womanhood, to maneuver around the swell of her abdomen, but she could do it. Her fingers traced her folds. As she did it, she thought of Amir, of his talented hands. She wanted him back in her life, but she knew he wouldn’t want her. She was nothing but a complication, especially now that she was pregnant. But she could have him here in the solace of her bedroom. She could embrace the memories and the dreams, and Amanda would imagine what could have been.

Her fingers parted her secret lips and she found her pleasure button, her thumb settling on it, starting out in slow, lazy circles that sent ripples of pleasure washing over her. Closing her eyes, she eased her other hand under the hem of her night shirt and reached for her nipple. Then she squeezed it tightly, unleashing a bit of rough play into her actions. Her nipple pebbled under her grasp and she bucked her hips as best as she could, her thumb pressing harder against her pearl.

But they weren’t her hands caressing her body.

They were his—smooth hands of an aristocrat, the delicate fingers that promised so much. She remembered their night together, the way his thick member had filled her, and how she’d had to stretch to accommodate him. There’d been the heft of him too; his heavy body was comforting as it laid over her. It wasn’t her bedroom’s scents—the plug-in air freshener or her potpourri—that was in her nose. It was his musk as well as that hint of sandalwood that had driven her mad.

She felt herself grow closer to climax. Her heart pounded hard against her sternum, her body shivering from her need. Lifting her fingers to her lips, she licked them, giving her a better grip as she teased and tickled her own areola. Below, her thumb pressed even harder against her most sensitive bundle of nerves, and the ripples were now waves, like the vast ocean crashing against her. Her legs felt weak with her onslaught, and she wasn’t sure she could take much more.

Then she thought back to Amir’s distinctive and piercing eyes gazing at her as she enveloped him. His abs had been so close to her then, and she’d been unable to resist fondling them, running her hands over every line and ridge. His hardness had pounded into her with a speed so fast that she thought he was a machine firing into her. She’d loved every minute of it, especially that moment he’d flooded her channel with his seed.

The seed that had made the child,
their
child—the one now growing inside of her.

Her thumb twisted one final time and her orgasm cascaded over her like a tsunami.

She shuddered and came, calling his name and a litany of prayers. Her head fell back to her pillow, and even as she resituated herself, she couldn’t help but touch her stomach as well, trailing her fingers over her growing bump. She already loved the child there so much it hurt. Part of her knew that hiding him from Amir was wrong, both for his sake and for Amir’s. However, she couldn’t have them sent away. Wasn’t it better to live with some small, weird hope than to know for sure that she and her baby were unwanted?

Tears stung her eyes in the quiet darkness of her bedroom, and she struggled not to break down completely.

“We’ll make it together, buddy, you and me. I promise that it’ll be alright. You’ll never want for love, even if I have to love as much as two parents’ worth. I swear.”

It was silent in the empty bedroom, and it felt like her voice was echoing around her. That was the best answer she had for now, even if it weren’t enough.

***

“Damn it!” she swore under her breath, even as she woke up.

She wasn’t that far along, comparatively. In addition to the hormone surges, she already had her little passenger pressing against her bladder. It meant she peed at all hours of the night. It left her tired on her shifts at the diner, but it was also just another one of those sacrifices that came along with her life, with what she was beginning to do for her son.

Shifting up to the sitting position, she hobbled to her bathroom and took care of business. Then she started back to her room. Oddly, there was a breeze blowing through it, and that confused her. Her curtains ruffled, and she swore she didn’t remember leaving the window up when she went to bed.

How strange.

Suddenly, she heard the loud thump of boots on the tile of her apartment floor and a huge hulking man rushed out from behind her curtain.

He was dressed all in black, including the balaclava mask he wore so all she could see of him was his eyes. Surging forward, he lunged for her. She tried to dodge him, but her body wasn’t as nimble as it had been before, and she miscalculated her damn added weight around the middle. As she dodged, she tripped and fell hard onto her tailbone. Pain lanced through her like a shot, and she screamed.

She heard Margery across the apartment yell and started rushing for her. Then there was a crash and a shout from her as well that made Amanda’s heart pound even harder. Getting to her feet, she rushed as fast as she could to the door, hoping she could outrun her mystery attacker. He leapt over her bed as if it were nothing.

She tried to rush out the door, pulling at the knob frantically so she could escape out into the living room and help her still screaming friend. Instead, a sharp pain slammed into her back and she shrieked as all the air was pushed out of her lungs.

“I…” she rasped, having to wait until the air came back to her. “Who are you?”

A thickly accented voice answered her. “You didn’t think that you could keep digging into our business and not pay, did you,
puta
?”

Her eyes were wide and she wanted to scream. This was it, ending up just like her mother. “Please, I’m pregnant.”

He pulled out a bowie knife and held the massive serrated edge to her throat. “I don’t care. If my boss hadn’t requested your ass right now, I’d kill you here. You cost us far too much trouble.”

“Margery.”

“We’re tying her up. We don’t need her,” he said. “It’s more hassle than it’s worth to dispose of a body, but I wish the boss didn’t want you so badly,” he said, grazing the blade over her skin until she felt blood well up on her cheek. “We’ve all wanted a shot at you, and soon maybe we can convince him to let us have it.”

“No! You can’t!” she said, kicking at him, even as adrenaline flared through her body. She managed to get his shin. Her triumph was short lived because then there was a sharp pain in her temple as his fist struck her.

Then there was only darkness.

“Sir, the newest earning reports from Ali Babba’s are in,” Mafir said, setting the sheaf of records on his desk. “I think you have a lot to be proud of. The revenues are astounding and the property, from what I’ve been able to dig up, seems to be doing better than ninety-five percent of the casinos and other resorts in town.”

“The servants’ scuttlebutt?” he asked, his tone maudlin.

Although, it felt like
everything
was maudlin these days. Ever since Amanda had fled from his life, it was as if his senses were muted. Everything tasted like sand, everything smelled dull and uninteresting. It felt as if his world were only in grayscale. It didn’t make sense. He’d never once felt that connected to another human being. But then again, it wasn’t about the physical passion that had brimmed between them for a short weekend. It was about the honesty. He had a feeling that Amanda didn’t often talk about her insecurities with her reporting career and that, at first, she’d had no intention of telling him about Senator Jackson and her investigation. Yet she had. Similarly, he
never
talked about Farana—that pain was forever an open sore in his heart. With Amanda, everything had seemed possible, even baring his soul.

But her sudden departure and the firestorm of press and gossip that had followed wasn’t what bothered him most. He’d had two of his best security agents watching Amanda and her new roommate, Margery Simmons, very closely. His lover had been quick to brush off the possible threats from a senator as powerful as Jackson; she was far too sure that he would only stick to ruining her reputation. Amir didn’t believe that, not in his heart. He’d known too many power-hungry leaders in his time, thankfully not within his own family, but more than his fair share. So he’d made sure she was protected even now, even if she’d never asked for it. It turned out that Amanda was pregnant. A report about two months ago had confirmed that she’d started going to an OB-GYN. It was possible the pregnancy was related to their one night, but highly unlikely. Maybe she’d fallen back with an old boyfriend or had quickly found someone else after her humiliation.

Even if she were someone else’s now, he had to protect her, but that was the biggest burn of all—that Amanda had a life and a child without him, and he had to watch from the shadows.

“That’s good.”

Mafir shook his head. “It’s not just good. Your bet has paid off.”

He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “I suppose, but we have to see what comes six months from now or a year. For a while, there was the novelty of the story, of the illicit affair caught round the world. People are like vultures that way. We have to see if this will still hold up and attract visitors even when there’s not a hint of scandal.”

“Actually, my sheikh,” Mafir countered, “I think it’s probably the reverse. The type of clientele we wanted—the high-end jetsetters and the whales at the card table—they aren’t looking for Kardashian-level scandals.”

“Yes, but it’s just that one never knows when the other shoe is going to fall.”

Mafir frowned even more, his brows furrowing in concern. “You’re not talking about your resort, are you?”

“I am. I’m one hundred percent focused on the ins and outs of Ali Babba’s and all other ventures of Bahan Industries.”

“Then you’re doing an amazing job of not fully reading the figures before you, my sheikh.”

“You don’t have to do that. We’re employee-employer. You don’t need to feign concern for me,” Amir replied, his tone gruff as he gritted his teeth.

“I have to care when I see you losing focus on the business. I’d like to have a place to keep working, and if anything does jettison Ali Babba’s bottom line, then that would affect me as well. Besides, after a decade, I’d like to think of us as friends, or at least let you know that I care about you as more than a source of income.”

“I’m touched,” Amir drawled.

“And I’m serious. I can see that lack of focus, that pain in your eyes. You miss Miss Sinclair.”

“And I embarrassed her, made her an international laughingstock, and had her rush out on me in no uncertain terms.”

“Then maybe you need to finally go to America instead of having guards protect her by proxy.”

Amir raised his eyebrows at his manservant. He should have known. Even if he’d tried to keep Mafir out of it, his assistant was sharper than most. It was why he’d hired him, after all. “You knew?”

“Of course, and I think it’s time you reconciled as best you could with Miss Sinclair. You’re a ghost of yourself, and you’re distracted. It’s not just business decisions you’re missing—it’s life. You need to get everything back in order, and I think the only way for you to do that is to win her back.”

“You didn’t see her anger, hear her words. I can’t.”

“Then you’re not the same titan of industry I always thought you were. You’re fearless there, why not here?”

“Because,” Amir objected, “I humiliated her. I should have seen the angle with a betraying employee, should have requested the video feed be sent to me and then destroyed. It’s all on my head.”

“Then you’ll be truly lost. In fact—”

He was spared from hearing more of Mafir’s pep talk when there was a ring at his desk. Thank Allah for small mercies. Reaching for the phone, Amir glared at Mafir, indicating that his services were no longer needed. Once his servant was gone, he spoke into the receiver.

“Bahan here. Talk to me.”

“Sir, it’s Waalid.”

His heart stopped. Waalid was his top agent watching over Amanda and her roommate. If he were calling him outside of the regular schedule of check-ins, then something had happened.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re not sure. We broke into the apartment after Miss Sinclair missed her doctor’s appointment and Miss Simmons didn’t show up for work.”

“I should have made you put in cameras.”

“That might have been obvious if they’d found them,” Waalid said. “There’re signs of a struggle, and I’m calling in all forensic contacts and investigative friends of the crown here in Washington. I suggest that—”

“It’s that damn senator, I know it. I’ll be on the next plane. And find out where they were taken. I need to get there and I need to get there fast.”

***

Margery was breathing, but they were slow, deep breaths. There was a deep gash on her forehead, and Amanda was worried her friend might have suffered a concussion or something even more severe. Amanda’s own head was swimming from the shock, and her back felt tight, but at least her son was still kicking. That was the one blessing in all of this.

Part of her expected to be waking up in the bowels of a warehouse or out by the docks of the Potomac. Instead, she blinked awake in a tastefully decorated bedroom with a Georgian décor and antique wood furniture.