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Authors: Suzanne Rock,Lauren Hawkeye

Stolen by the Sheik (Black Towers Book 2)

BOOK: Stolen by the Sheik (Black Towers Book 2)
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Stolen by the Sheikh
Lauren Hawkeye
Suzanne Rock

eXcessica publishing

S
tolen
by the Sheikh
© 2016 by Lauren Hawkeye and Suzanne Rock

A
ll rights reserved
under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

T
his is a work of fiction
. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

T
his book is
for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

Excessica LLC

P.O. Box 127

Alpena, MI 49707

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

[email protected]

www.excessica.com

Cover design © 2016 Lauren Hawkeye

First Edition June 2016

W
arning
: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Chapter 1

I
t always happened
at the worst time.

“Oh, no. God, no.” Olivia Bremer held her breath as the sneeze continued to build in her nose. “Not now.”

She clamped her jaw shut and hurried down the busy Los Angeles sidewalk, balancing folders full of photo spreads in one hand and her green smoothie that was meant to be both healthy and give her a burst of much needed energy in the other. She couldn’t sneeze, she couldn’t.

The harder she tried, the more determined that sneeze was to come, and Liv could feel her face becoming red with the effort to hold it back.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

“Don’t talk to me!” Too late. The sneeze erupted from her like an active volcano, shaking her with its force. The full body heave created by the incident caused her to spill her green smoothie all over her ample chest.

“Now look at what you’ve done!” she shouted at the stranger. He recoiled as if she’d physically struck him as his companion chuckled and pointed.

“That’s priceless! Can you do that again?” he asked.

Liv shifted her folders to the arm with her drink and gave him the middle finger as she walked by them. Fucking men. What had happened to this generation? Gone were the gentlemen of eras past who would have offered a helping hand, and in their place were grown-ass boys – not men – who just pointed and laughed. Useless. Her gesture caused both men to snicker, but she didn’t have time for such childish behavior. She was already late.

“Damn it.” She dabbed at her chest as she turned the corner and continued down the block—the green goo made the thin fabric cling to her curves so tightly that she felt as though everyone was staring… which they probably were. This was the last clean dress shirt she had, and it figured that she had forgotten to grab some napkins from the condiment stand at the café down the street. At least her precious folders were safe. That was more important than her appearance, or her pride.

She should have handed in those folders two hours ago, but according to the cantankerous photographer, one couldn’t rush art. The man didn’t really understand that the magazine was a business, one with specific needs and firm deadlines. While Liv needed something young, commercial and hip for the new spread launching next month, the photographer wanted something more artistic and daring. They had argued for hours over his collection of pictures, until Liv finally uncovered a series of photographs that made them both happy. Or perhaps they were both just tired of arguing. Either way, she had wasted the entire morning and much of her lunch break on a task that should have taken thirty minutes, tops.

If she didn’t get back in time for the afternoon department meeting, there was going to be hell to pay.

Another sneeze was already starting to build in her sinuses, and Liv knew that she had to get inside and out of the pollen-infested air before she spilt her smoothie once more. Balancing her purse so she could reach inside with one hand, she fished around for the thin satin scarf she had gotten from one of the models who didn’t want it anymore. Hopefully it was large enough to cover up the stain on her chest.

“Hey!” Liv dropped her scarf back into her tote-sized purse as a woman with the most perfect hair twist and a sleek black dress cut her off and made her way through the revolving door of the building. Shoving the straw of her drink in her mouth, Liv hurried into the small opening with her.

“You cut me off,” Liv said as she lowered her drink.

The woman glanced over her shoulder. “You’re late.”

Liv widened her eyes and hugged her folders over the stain in her shirt. “Oh God, Carrie, I’m sorry. I know I’m late, but I have a good excuse. The gold line wasn’t on time.” Liv hated using public transportation. It wasn’t very reliable, but driving in L.A. was worse.

The woman frowned at her as she stepped through the door. “Olivia, I’ve reminded you many times now, when we’re in public, it’s Ms. Russell.”

“I have those pictures you wanted.” Liv offered the folders to her boss as a peace offering.

Carrie wrinkled her nose. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at the ugly green stain.

“Allergies.” Liv chuckled, but it felt forced. “I mean, I sneezed on the way here and spilled my drink.”

“They have medication for that, you know.”

“I missed a dose.” Liv waved the folder up in the air. “The photographer and I have been working all morning to get these ready in time for the staff meeting.”

“Details.” Ms. Russell waved her hand. “How many times do I need to tell you to stop giving me useless information? I don’t need to be told a story. I just need results.”

“Yes, Ms. Russell.”

“Good. The department meeting is in ten minutes. You can show me and the rest of the staff why you have been away from your desk all day at that time.”

“Of course.”

“And you small like kale. Please try to clean yourself up. An
Elite!
woman should never smell like she came from the garden.” She turned and strode toward the elevators.

“Yes, Ms. Russell.” Liv let out a long breath as her boss slipped into one of the elevators.

When she had first gotten the job at the famous women’s magazine
Elite!
, she thought that she’d be writing columns on how to tell your partner what you wanted in the bedroom, or how to behave during an office romance. Instead she was chasing models and photographers around, tending to their whims so that they could provide the perfect shot for the cover.

And it wasn’t just the covers that required perfection. Every aspect of the job had to be impeccable. Employees had to have flawless hair, stylish clothes, a winning smile, attitude and demeanor.
Elite!
women knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to take it. Everyone at the office had to portray confidence and professionalism at all times. It was literally part of the job description.

Which was all well and good, except that Liv was far from perfect. Her long copper hair didn’t always want to be tamed. Her porcelain skin was decorated with tattoos that she always made sure to keep hidden under her clothes at work, and she had a few more curves than most of the girls she worked with. The more time she spent at the magazine, the more she realized that she didn’t fit the perfect
Elite!
mold, no matter how hard she tried to cram her square peg of an ass into their round hole of perfection. She didn’t know who she was, or what she wanted. Her entire life had been spent building to this moment. Now that she had a job and an apartment, she felt a little adrift. Empty, as though her life lacked purpose. There had to be something more . . . meaningful out there, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what.

Her mother probably would have told her that she needed a husband and kids, that they would give her meaning, but Liv wasn’t ready for that. Her job took up most of her free time and energy. She didn’t have anything left to give to anyone else.

Turning toward the woman’s bathrooms, Liv knocked her arm into someone walking by. The impact jarred her drink from her hand, spraying its by-now meager contents all over the folders, herself, and the floor.

F.M.L.

“I’m so sorry!” She shook her folders over the mess, trying to rub off the excess liquid. When barely any came off, she used her fingers to wipe at the stain.

“Here.” A large, masculine-looking hand holding a crisp tissue materialized in front of her face.

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she took the tissue and dabbed at the folders.

“I heard what that woman said to you.”

Liv felt herself flush. Great—she’d had an audience to her humiliation. Could this day get any worse? Probably not. She snorted and shook her head. “I’m used to it.”

“That woman needs to be spanked until she can no longer sit down.”

Startled, Liv felt a rush of heat to her cheeks at how the man spoke of spankings so nonchalantly. The feeling quickly dissipated as the image of anyone putting Carrie over their knee and spanking her made her laugh out loud. “I’d love to see you try. That woman is a pit bull.”

“A bull? A male cow?” Confusion colored his voice. “I was certain this person you spoke to was a woman. How did I mistake her for a man?”

“No, not a male cow.” Liv couldn’t hold back another short laugh at his puzzlement. It was then that she noticed his accent. She glanced up from her green goop-dripping folders to see a gorgeous Middle Eastern man looking down at her from his impressive height. His rich, cognac-colored eyes were rimmed with the thickest, blackest lashes she’d ever seen, enough to make any woman jealous. The intense contrast between the warmth of his eyes and the darkness of his lashes was mesmerizing.

When she finally managed to pull her eyes away from his, the rest of his face came into focus. His hair was thick and so dark it was almost black. It looked so soft and was long enough that Liv’s fingers itched to run through it. His chiseled jaw was only accentuated more by the expertly kept facial hair covering it. It was full and dark, but kept short, not much longer than a five o’clock shadow. She noticed how the soul patch that came just under his bottom lip made it look extra luscious. It was just asking for someone to sink their teeth into it.

His tall frame was covered in a suit that looked like it had to be custom made, it fit him so well. He was tall, dark, and handsome… on steroids.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the term.” He frowned, but while he did, his stare swept over her body, and she felt her skin heat.

Interesting. Most men that she met sexually excited her about as much as her smoothie did. That she was feeling tingles in her girly regions just from one glance?

She’d take it.

“It’s a mean dog, with a terrible bite. Actually, that’s not true. My friend Melody had a pit bull once, and it was the sweetest thing I had ever seen.” She frowned. “It would curl up in your lap and urge you to rub its belly.”

“So this woman who spoke meanly to you is the type who likes to have her belly rubbed?” The man looked even more baffled, and though he radiated masculinity, the expression was… cute.

“No.” Liv laughed fully this time. “Not at all. Carrie would probably bite your hand off.” His confusion clearly deepened, so she waved her hand in between them.

“Never mind. Thanks for the tissue.” She started to hand it back, but noticed it was stained and torn.

“Keep it. Consider it a gift.” He chuckled as she stared at the crumpled mess in her hand. “Or throw it away, if you want.”

“Thanks.” She smiled and tossed it into the trash. “I’m Olivia Bremer. But my friends call me Liv.”

“Liv.” He shook her outstretched hand and met her gaze. His eyes were focused and dark as ebony, and it seemed as if he was trying to decide something about her and hadn’t quite made up his mind yet. “I am Sheikh Nayef ibn Saeed ibn Tariq al-Darzi, but my friends call me Nayo.”

“Nayo.” Liv continued to shake his hand, unable to deny the sizzle of electricity shooting between them. “I have to admit, that’s a pretty heavy name you have there, Nayo.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s Islamic.”

“I like it,” she said. “It’s different.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “My father would be amused to hear that our family name, which is almost synonymous with Arabic tradition in my country, is now ‘different.’”

Liv smirked. “What was once old is now new again.” Realizing that she was shaking his hand a bit too long than was proper, she forced herself to let go and step back. “At least, that is what they teach us at the magazine.”

“The magazine?”

She pointed toward the ceiling. “I work at the women’s magazine headquarters upstairs.”

“Ah. With the belly-rubbing cow?”

Liv couldn’t hold back her smile. “Pit bull. And yes, she’s my boss.”

“So that’s why you allow her to treat you with such disrespect.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

What was with this guy? He was so acting so defensive of her and they had just met. Liv shrugged it off. “Yeah, well, it pays the bills. She’s not all bad. It’s hard being a woman boss in a man’s world.”

“I’ll never understand a woman’s desire to do a man’s job.”

“Whoa. Buddy. This is America. You can’t say shit like that. You know, equal rights and all.”

“I apologize. I never meant to offend. It’s just, where I come from, women are meant to be provided for.” Nayo reached up and tucked a stray strand of her long red hair behind her ear. “And a woman as beautiful as you would have many suitors lined up for the job.” Her body betrayed her, reacting to that one simple touch in ways most men couldn’t elicit with their best efforts. Jesus. What was wrong with her? She should be telling this ass-backwards man where he could shove it, yet instead she was quivering at his touch. She needed to get out of there and get her head on straight, fast.

“Um. Thanks?” Listen, I’m already running late for my meeting, and I still need to clean myself up. Carrie will have a fit if I show up looking like this.”

She started to turn to walk away, but Nayo’s intense stare held her in place. He took in every inch of her from top to toes, and back up again. His eyes burned a trail of heat on her body as if his hands touched everywhere he looked. Finally his gaze stopped, lingering on the first green stain she acquired on her chest and to her own surprise, she found herself leaning forward ever so slightly to give him a better view.

“I think you look perfect,” he said. Stepping in close, Nayo reached his hand up to her face and slowly rubbed his thumb along her jaw. “Except for maybe this.”

“What are you…” Before she could finish, Nayo placed his thumb to his mouth and licked off the green smoothie that was there. A low growl escaped his lips. “Delicious.”

She felt heat rush her cheeks, flushing them a deep crimson. She couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or the sight of him licking his thumb, but it was probably a bit of both.

“I…uh..” Liv stammered over her words, lowering her head in hopes he wouldn’t notice how much he had affected her with his words, his actions. Fat chance though, it would be hard to miss the red in her cheeks, as her fair skin provided a great contrast.

BOOK: Stolen by the Sheik (Black Towers Book 2)
6.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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