Sold to the Sheikh (2 page)

Why didn’t she want to?

“Stella,” he said slowly, as though rolling it around on his tongue to get a feel for it.

And, just as suddenly, he released her. It was like the sun going behind a cloud. He turned and faced Lola instead.

“Is the paperwork complete?” he said.

Lola pushed forward a set of papers on her desk. “Not quite,” she said.

He scowled. “What is the difficulty?”

Stella, trying not to flush, forced herself to find her voice. This was ridiculous; the two of them talking like she wasn’t even there. She said, “Um, the difficulty is that there’s been a mistake, Mr…?”

Slowly, he turned to look at her. His gaze was intense, total, and completely unnerving. The silence alone was almost unbearable.

“You may address me as Sheikh Bashir,” he finally said. “There has been no mistake.”

“Yes, there
has
,” Stella said, hating herself for getting so flustered. She could still feel the heat of him where he’d touched her. “I wasn’t supposed to be there like that. I just barged in. I understand that I interrupted your scene, and for that I apologize. It was completely my fault, and totally inexcusable. I really, really am sorry, but it was an honest mistake.”

Sheikh Bashir seemed unimpressed. He registered no expression. It was almost as though Stella hadn’t spoken. How could she say this without offending this god-like…
Sheikh?

Wait, he’s really a Sheikh? That’s an actual thing?

“I’m not…” she said, struggling to find the words, “Look, I’m not one of the Volare. I’m sorry. It’s a mistake.”

The Sheikh’s nostrils flared, and he turned on Lola, his massive hand falling on her desk.

“She may not be a member of the Volare,” he said to Lola, “but there was no mistake.”

He grabbed the sheaf of papers, and turned that gaze back to Stella. It was worse than being under a spotlight, she thought. She felt totally bare.

“In this country,” he said, his voice tense, “at this time, I cannot purchase you outright. You will sign an agreement.” He turned again to Lola, who wore the mask of a professional. “
She
is the one that I want. Double the fee.”

“Ok, seriously, this is ridiculous. I don’t know how to make this any clearer. I am not—” Stella began, but the Sheikh turned that stare back on her, and suddenly she lost her train of thought. His eyes flashed, and Stella had the distinct feeling that he was restraining himself. From…something.

When he spoke, his tone left no room for doubt.

“Do not feign outrage with me, Stella Spencer. I have little tolerance for pretension or dishonesty, as you will learn. I do not care who you think you are, or what you are determined to represent yourself to be. The fact is that you have turned your breasts towards me; your nipples are pert, even though this room is quite warm, and your pupils are dilated. You will sign the papers because you want to sign them, and you will present yourself to me in the room I have rented for this purpose, and you will do it now.”

And with that, Sheikh Bashir threw the papers on the desk and strode out of the room.

It was a moment before Stella could speak. It took her a few seconds to even realize that her mouth was open. Eventually, she turned toward her old friend.

“I’m giving you the long weekend off,” Lola said.

“Lola,” she managed, but it sounded desperate, rather than angry.

 “It’s fifty thousand dollars for the holiday weekend, Stella. Standard safeword arrangement, terminating the contract at a prorated rate. It will change your life,” Lola said, and her face softened. “And I’m not just talking about the money.”

Stella blinked.
Fifty thousand dollars?

She thought about how she couldn’t even pay the taxes on the ridiculous apartment she’d been awarded in the quickie divorce settlement. She thought about the many empty rooms of that expensive apartment, all of them mocking the memory of the life she thought she’d had with her Robert before he’d dumped her. She thought about the pitying looks she’d gotten from people she might have described, once, as their “mutual friends,” and how now those people all made her feel like a pathetic, boring castoff. She thought about her totally barren social calendar.

She thought about how shocking and immediate the Sheikh’s touch had been, reminding her that she was, in fact, a woman. It had been like a single frame of color in a black and white movie, like something you didn’t even know you were missing until someone showed you that it existed. Here was a man who actually wanted her.

All in a rush, before she could change her mind or the Sheikh could come to his senses, Stella Spencer signed the papers.

C
HAPTER 2

Sheikh Bashir al Aziz bin Said was not, generally speaking, an impulsive man. He was a passionate man, of course, but always controlled. Always, supremely, controlled.

And yet he’d just been knocked senseless by this Stella Spencer. He had no idea how it had happened. It simply did not make sense.

This was supposed to be his last hurrah, so to speak, a final extravagance before settling down to duty. Bashir had given up on finding a worthy match for himself, even at Club Volare, and was resigned to a lonely marriage and a lonely life, if it meant serving his country’s interests. There were far worse things in the world, Bashir knew. Still, he’d decided to indulge himself with one last holiday at Club Volare, where he might pretend for a little while before returning to the hard realities of life. He was prepared for that. But then, at the last possible moment, there was this Stella Spencer.

He had not been prepared for Stella Spencer. She’d stumbled in with such unassuming beauty and authenticity, and then she appeared to actually challenge him.

He suspected that she challenged everyone, in a way, perhaps without realizing it. So on her guard. So protected, even while unable to hide that authenticity. He’d never forget the way she raised her eyebrow when she’d said, ‘
Excuse
me?’ Such a simple gesture, nothing obviously remarkable about it, and yet, somehow, it drew him in.

He’d laughed.
No one
spoke to him like that. And from the moment he saw her, he’d felt…

He’d been trying to put it into words. In fact, he
had
to be able to put it into words—to name it, to own it—before she arrived for his standard submissive evaluation. Otherwise he had very little hope of staying in control, and the only thing a man in Bashir’s position couldn’t afford was to lose control with a woman. Especially one like Ms. Spencer.

There was a hesitant knock at the door.

His time was up.

“Enter,” he said.

Stella opened the door just wide enough to slip through and closed it quickly behind her, as though she were afraid that someone might notice. She stood very close to the door, keeping her hands on the handle behind her while her chest moved up and down with rapid little breaths. Her large breasts were still pressed high and tight by that sleek dress that only accentuated all of her delicious curves. The flush that had started to spread across her skin in Lola’s office had only intensified.

“So…hi,” she said, and gave an awkward little wave.

Why was that so endearing? Why was her obvious bumbling—her determination in the face of such social ignorance—attractive? It was like he’d been possessed. Bashir breathed deeply and counted to three.

“Come here,” he said, and beckoned for her to stand before him. The room was luxurious—if simple—compared to his luxury suite downstairs. Bashir found the sofa on which he sat to be quite comfortable, the bar was well stocked, and the bed, over on the other side of the room, was large. Stella glanced over at it nervously.

“We won’t have need of that quite yet,” he said, and her creamy shoulders seemed to relax a little.

Good. Bashir didn’t want her frightened. He wanted her overcome. These evaluations had a purpose. He wanted to find out what made her tick, what turned her on, what turned her off. He’d always delighted in putting subs through the best scenes of their lives, but something about Stella Spencer suggested there might be more to it this time.

He watched as she walked slowly forward until she stood a few feet in front of where he sat, and he tried his damnedest to figure out what it was about her. She wasn’t particularly graceful, she didn’t have the studied allure of most of the Volare women, and yet…and
yet
…

“You wanted me to present myself,” she said, and then frowned, apparently embarrassed by such an inane statement. Or perhaps she disliked the phrase itself, with all its implications. Bashir was intrigued when, a second later, she looked into his eyes with an air of defiance. Of pride.

Best to be absolutely clear, then.

“You haven’t presented yourself yet, Stella,” he said. “Take off your dress.”

She flinched. Her face was as open to him as it had been in Lola’s office, as it had been in the Pearl Room. Perhaps this was what drew him to her, these flashes of openness, of intimacy. Now he watched her cycle through disbelief, her mind churning behind those blue eyes, and run up against…desire. Her face was a mask of confusion. She needed his help.

“I said: take off your dress, Stella.
Now
.”

~  ~  ~

Sheikh Bashir’s voice filled the room like a thunderclap, penetrating Stella’s mind with the sudden violence of a force of nature and compelling her to act. She very nearly actually
did
it. She’d nearly taken off her dress just because he’d told her to. She came back to herself, her thumbs already hooked under the straps of her dress, and blinked.

What the hell was that?
She’d never felt so weak.
I have my safeword. I can always say the safeword.

Somehow, that didn’t help. She didn’t fear Sheikh Bashir, even as he arose from the couch with a lazy, predatory grace. She feared her own apparent loss of self-control. What kind of person nearly undresses just because some guy with the voice of God tells her to? What was happening to her?

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I told you I’m not…I’m not familiar with these kinds of things. I’m sorry. I think this was mistake, Sheikh Bashir, I really do.”

“I grow weary of hearing you say that, Ms. Spencer,” he said, and a wry smile played across those soft lips. “It’s almost as if you do not trust my judgment.”

Stella knew there was something wrong with that argument, but she was having trouble thinking logically. The Sheikh had risen to his full height and had removed his tailored grey suit jacket, tossing it carelessly on the sofa. What was left was an obvious wall of hard muscle under a fitted white, collared shirt, which was tucked crisply into a pair of grey suit slacks.

Maybe he plays polo
, Stella thought weakly. She could see the Sheikh fiercely driving a horse around a pitch.
Oh God, what an idiotic thing to think about! You don’t know anything about polo! Get a hold of yourself, Spencer.

But she was frozen to the spot, as though if she stayed perfectly still, maybe Sheikh Bashir would just forget about her. Instead, he came very, very close. Stella remembered the heat of his body from when he’d grabbed her, only a few moments ago in Lola’s office, and looked furiously at the floor.

He said, “But it is more offensive to me that you seem to expect
me
not to trust my own judgment, too.” He reached out and touched the side of her cheek with the back of his hand. “I know what I see before me. You make it quite plain.”

Suddenly, Stella was furious. She’d been torturing herself nightly over what other people must see when they looked at her, what led them to treat her the way that they did, and this stranger had the temerity to just…announce that he knew? Better than she did?

“Oh,
really
?” Stella said, and let the sarcasm fly. She finally looked up to see that he was still smiling. “You think you know me better than I know myself?”

“Apparently.”

Stella was not prepared for that.

“But perhaps you need to be convinced,” the Sheikh continued, and stepped quickly behind her, resting his large hands on her shoulders. Stella was afraid to move. Not because of what might happen, but because she might miss the feel of him behind her, and she wasn’t quite ready for that, either.

Maybe that’s the problem
, Stella thought to herself.
I’ve been so afraid of what might happen, I’ve stopped moving.
She felt something inside twist, and the kaleidoscope of jumbled emotions that she’d become accustomed to carrying around with her fell into a kind of focus. The picture didn’t make sense, exactly, but it was a picture now. She
was
afraid. She
had
stopped moving. She’d been hiding.

And this stranger could see that.

If it hadn’t been for his warm hands massaging her shoulders, Stella was certain she would’ve begun to shake. She wasn’t sure she could handle whatever he had planned.

“Who do you think you are,” she said, and she could not keep the tremble out of her voice, “to talk to people this way?”

The Sheikh’s big hands spun her around easily, and he caught her around the waist with his iron arm. His other hand moved upward to cradle her face—and to make sure she looked at him while he spoke to her.

“I am Sheikh Bashir al Aziz bin Said of Ras al Manas,” he said with unerring calm, “though that has little to do with my ability to talk to you this way, or my ability to recognize you for what you are.”

His black eyes softened and searched her face. Stella was completely at a loss for words, unable to answer him. Instead, she felt her pulse in her neck, her fingers, and, most of all, in her pussy, thudding hot and hard against her flesh.

“I swear, on my honor, I will not hurt you,” he said softly. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Stella heard herself say. It didn’t make any sense. But she did believe him. She believed him utterly.