Sheikh's Scandalous Mistress (8 page)

“Mother,” he said, standing and going to kiss her cheeks. “How are you?”

“I’m splendid, darling,” she said, continuing to flit about the room as if she were a hummingbird. Her sleek, graying hair was pulled back in a long braid and she was wearing her tennis skirt. Clearly, she was about to meet some of her friends for a game. Never be fooled; it was blood sport between the wealthy elite of Abu Dhabi. “But I wanted to see how you were.”

“I’m doing quite well myself.”

She smiled, a Mona Lisa expression that let him know she understood exactly what he’d been doing lately. “I can see. I heard that the chef was preparing a breakfast for two this morning.”

“You’re too nosy,” he added, leaning back against his desk. “Miss Sinclair and I…”

“You may have found a woman to hold your attention for more than five minutes.”

“I think it’s a far stretch from there,” he said. “You don’t have to be so excited to see me settled off and married.”

“You’re in your mid-thirties now, and it’s not just me. I’m told every day by your nieces and nephews the same thing. They all want to know when they’ll have a little cousin to play with.”

Furrowing his brow back at her, Amir also crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t need this same routine. I happen to have found a potential girlfriend…maybe. She’ll be staying here for a few weeks. This is not about wedding bells or children. I don’t feel ready for that yet.”

“All of your brothers…they moved on from Farana’s loss.”

He stiffened. “She wasn’t their twin. This isn’t about her.”

“I think it is. You were both so young. After she died, I was scared to have children again, to ever be open to that kind of pain again. I didn’t want to risk inviting that pain in again. But I did, and then I had three other sons I love so much. If you’re scared of having a family again because they might be gone one day, then you’ll miss out on everything else.”

“I feel it’s still my fault. I wanted to explore that part of the palace, all the disused places and old antiques. I didn’t realize she’d get that mold in her lungs.”

His mother crossed to him and put a hand on his forearm. “We never blamed you. You were a child.”

“And it hurts. The
loss of her
hurts. I can deal with fun and maybe even something once in a while a bit more stable, but I can’t lose people I love. It’s the biggest agony of all. Besides, the reporter and I have a certain repartee. She has business in the States, and I have…”

“A country to think of and a duty. You’re not just helping build our financial and building empire, but there’s a country and a lineage you owe. Besides, darling,” she said, stroking his cheek, her brown eyes brimming with concern, “I hate to think of you alone forever. You block the chance of pain out, and you end up blocking all the good out as well.”

“Maybe, Mother, but protection is what I’m interested in. I want to block myself from anything that horrible again.”

She shook her head and picked up her tennis racket from where she left it in the corner of the room. “Alright, Amir, Mother can see when she’s pressed too hard.”

“Really? Since when?” he joked, arching an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean! I’m going to be late to tennis, and I’ll be damned if I let the sheikha of Oman beat me this month. Now, think over what I’ve said,” she said as she left.

She was a whirlwind, but he couldn’t ignore her advice.

Amir didn’t have much time to focus on his mother’s words and unsolicited advice, because almost as soon as she was down the hall, Mafir slipped in the door. That was actually advantageous as he was about to summon his manservant anyway. It didn’t matter that Amanda didn’t want help. She could say anything she wanted, but he’d be a damn fool not to have some of his security team on her. Right now, some of his best agents were determining if the senator currently had her bugged, and learning whatever other information the ass had gathered on her. He’d started with the espionage route, but in a few weeks, he was far from opposed to sending her back to the States with a guard at her disposal.

It was common sense, what was truly safe and smart.

“Sir—”

“Mafir, I’m glad you came. I wanted to talk to you about Miss Sinclair.”

“Then you’ve seen? Good because I think we may have a problem on our hands,” he said, crossing quickly to the television and flicking the machine on.

Amir frowned but watched the image flicker to life. Mafir grabbed the changer and sped through the usual news and finance channels and instead settled on a vacuous entertainment news network. He was about to ask his servant what in the blue hell he thought he was doing, when Amir saw a familiar but blurry image on the screen. Blood boiled in his veins, and he knew that some employees of his were merely going to wish that there were still dungeons and hands being chopped off in this nation. It would be far less painful than the blackballing and lawsuit for breach of privacy he planned to unfurl on them.

“What?” he roared.

“Then you didn’t know,” Mafir said dryly, which galled Amir even further. How could his servant be so calm when the video feed from the gallery—heavily edited for broadcast television but still revealing—was playing on a loop on some gossip channel? “Sir, I think we need to call a press conference as soon as possible. I’ve summoned your press secretary, and she’s already thinking of how to start with damage control.”

“Damage control?”

“Well, some people are scoffing again at the whole project, as if it’s a lark for you or some excuse to seduce women. You need to go into damage control now. You know how important the launch of your property is, how crucial all of it is.”

“I need to talk to her, see how she is.”

“You can, but give it thirty minutes. You need to preserve a billion-dollar casino’s opening first, my sheikh,” Mafir said, shoving the phone into his hand. “Take care of your business dealings first. Never lose sight of what matters.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”

***

The phone was blaring in her ear, startling her out of her sleep, and damn it, she needed it after being kept up all night with the best sex of her life. Amanda rose up in bed, pushing herself out of the mountains of silk sheets before she grabbed her cell. Blinking blearily down at it, she noticed that the caller ID said “Margery.” Good, she still had till tomorrow to file her gallery story, and once she prepped that, she’d talk to Harris about taking a bit of time off. Who cared about some gondola attraction opening in Venice? She just wanted to try and assess her life, which seemed to be swept up in a whirlwind.

The fact that doing it in Amir’s bed for a few weeks was merely a bonus.

Of course, that’s not completely true. Last night was the best sex I’ve ever had
.

She thought of everything they’d done both in the tub and out of it, the completion she’d felt when he’d fully made love to her. They’d been swept up in a rush, but the passion had carried them through so much in this very bed, and for hours. Her mouth was split open in a wide grin just thinking about it.

“Hello? Hey, Margery, what’s up? Do you know it’s still sort of early here?”

That was a lie. It was close to noon, but she hadn’t fallen asleep before 4 a.m. It still
felt
early to her.

“Oh my God! You have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

Her heart started thudding, and her mind flashed back to her actual reality and the uphill battle that was facing her once she went back to the States. “Did Senator Jackson try something on you? You’re not blackballed or anything, are you?”

“No, but I mean…when I said that you should have a fun date with Sheikh Bahan, I didn’t mean that you should…oh, Amanda, what have you done?”

What is she even talking about?

Her heart was pumping hard in her chest and she felt beads of sweat collect at her temples. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s everywhere. You and he got up to some very intense things at the gallery opening party. Someone must have snuck footage, or I don’t know what, but it’s been all over the gossip sites on the web and even
E!
is talking about it.”

Her stomach roiled, and she wanted to vomit. This wasn’t possible. The security detail had been watching them. Besides, Amir owned everything in Ali Babba’s. Had this all been some sick setup? Was this some game he played? If he owned the cameras and the security stuff, did he save some special footage as a kink?

Acid started to burn in her throat even as tears strayed down her cheeks. “I…this can’t be happening.”

“Baby,” Margey said. “I don’t know what’s going on over there, but it’s just wall to wall. You need to come home, and we’ll figure this all out. I’m so sorry. I know that I encouraged everything with the sheikh, but just get back and we’ll figure it all out.”

“I’ll do that,” she gasped out, hating how tinny and thin her voice sounded.

Standing up, she clicked her phone off and rushed out of the bedroom. She just needed to confront him. She stomped through his quarters until she finally came to his office. He was on the phone, speaking in rapid-fire Arabic with someone. When she got there, she noticed that he had the TV tuned to one of the infotainment channels, where there was a scrawl at the bottom of the screen about both of them.

“Did you do this?” she demanded, her body shaking with her anger.

Amir flinched at the sight of her and finished the conversation quickly. Then he crossed the room to her. “Are you okay?”

“No! How long have you known about this? Do you sneak pictures and video from your casino cam of all your conquests?” she demanded, reaching back to slap him. This time, unlike the first out on the balcony, Amir was distracted and her hand thudded against his cheek and beard with a heavy smack.

Amir’s head snapped back and he rubbed at his face. “I didn’t. Someone in my video security team is extremely fired. I’m trying to figure out which bastard did it, leaked that to the tabloids for cash. When my legal team is done with him, he won’t have anything to his name.”

She stilled, relieved that he seemed to be telling the truth. The way that his nostrils were flaring and the vein was throbbing in his forehead, the reaction was just too genuine. Amir was as surprised and pissed as she was. Yet all of this was her fault too. She’d been swept up in passion, in his touch, and then she’d made a fool of herself for the whole planet to see.

It had to be all the stress from being demoted, all the fears of Jackson’s creeping presence. She let herself want something for once, just one thing with Amir, and now she’d ruined her reputation. As good as she’d felt last night, as much as the ecstasy had washed over her in unremitting waves, none of it was worth this.

She stumbled and fell into his arms, and again she was confronted with his scent, with the sandalwood and pure masculinity that he seemed to emit from every pore. Her heart was racing, but it had less to do with her fears and anger and more to do with what her traitorous body wanted her to do.

But she couldn’t do that again.

Her life had been based on loss and suffering, and something as harmless as a romantic fling abroad was turning out to be too much for both of them.

“Look,” he said, staring down at her with those intense amber eyes of his. “I’ve called my press agent. I’ve got damage control on all of that. Stay here with me, and we can work through all of this.” His hand reached out and threaded through her hair, and it was just a hint of the intimate caresses they’d shared just hours ago. “We can fix this, together.”

“I barely know you,” she admitted, even though the passion felt like more. She knew he’d revealed a big part of himself by talking about his lost sister. She’d opened up to him as well—she hadn’t expected to tell him about the investigation with Jackson. Fun was one thing, or so she’d been told, but there was more between them. Amanda couldn’t afford that. Holding her shoulders back, she glared back at the screen. “They’re calling me a whore, and frankly, blurred or not, if I saw some woman on a tape the way I see myself there, I’d probably think the same thing.”

“We can fix this.”

“No,” she said, pulling away from him. She felt anxious to collect her clothes from the bedroom. “We can’t. Besides, there’s nothing to fix.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Sinclair,” Harris stated, his tone as gravely as ever. Idly, she wondered how many cigars the man had smoked in his life in order to have achieved a voice like that. “I truly don’t. You were sent to Abu Dhabi to cover the opening of a casino. The next thing I know, I have every editor in the city calling to laugh in my face about how much life you’re living on the Life and Style beat.”

Amanda felt her cheeks flush with the shame creeping over her. “I know.”

“Good. Then can you explain what happened? Because I feel like an alien has taken over someone I care about.”

“It’s not like that.”

Harris shook his head and raked a hand through what was left of his thinning hair. “You’re one of the most promising reporters I have here. First, you rush to press without me, without consulting me all the way or letting me brace a legal team against Jackson’s onslaught. Then you take an assignment you couldn’t care less about and turn it into a sex scandal for the
Sentinel
.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve had the owners on the phone with me all day, Amanda. They’re beyond angry.” He shook his head again.

“I can’t even imagine,” she said, thinking of how awful everything had turned out. She’d been a fool not to think of cameras herself, to be so loose. “What’s the verdict?”

“You know what it has to be. You are an amazing journalist, but there’s no place for you here anymore, and I swear to God, Sinclair, that eats me up.”

“I know, chief,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. Head aching, she stood up and picked up her messenger bag. “I know what I did, and I can only take responsibility for that.”

“I knew your mother.”

Her heart stilled, and she turned back to look at him. “Well, DC is a small enough town. I guess you crossed paths with her at the
Post
.”