Read Sheikh's Ex-Girlfriend (Khayyam Sheikh Series #1) Online

Authors: Sophia Lynn

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Contemporary Fiction, #Romance

Sheikh's Ex-Girlfriend (Khayyam Sheikh Series #1)

 

Sheikh's Ex-Girlfriend

 

By: Sophia Lynn

 

All Rights Reserved. C
opyright 2015-2016 Sophia Lynn

 

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

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Sheikh's Arrangement

 

Chapter 1

Five Years Ago

Ella stepped out of the steamy shower, marveling all over again at the luxury of the hotel. From marble baths to gold fixtures and a bed that seemed to stretch for miles, it was like being wrapped in a kind of wealth she had never imagined before.

She dried herself off with the fluffy, pure white towels, running the soft fabric down the length of her lean, golden body before finding another that she could use to briskly rub her short blonde hair dry. She looked every bit the Californian-surfer girl she had in fact been when she was a teenager, but tonight, she hoped that she could show Nasim and his family that she was so much more.

She wrapped the towel around her body and walked back into the suite, looking for her lover. To her surprise, she didn't find him in bed where she had left him. Puzzled, she walked into the suite’s living room.

Nasim was well-built, just a few inches taller than her own 5'7”, but broad and strong in a way that made her think of mountains. Dressed only in a soft pair of linen slacks, he stood at the window, looking down at the bustling metropolis of Dalal, the capital city of his home country of Khayyam. Lovingly, she traced the line of his sleek-muscled sides down to his narrow waist, the breadth of his shoulders, and the strength of his arms with her eyes.

When they had met in New York, she had thought of him as exotic, an exciting stranger from a distant land. Now that she had joined him in Khayyam, she wondered if this now made her the exotic one.

She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his shoulder. Ella could still smell her scent on his skin, and the memory of what they had done just a few hours ago aroused her all over again. She had to resist the urge to take him back to bed, to learn his body all over again.

“We're going to be late,” she said softly. “Aren't you going to get dressed?”

She could see his face in the glass, reflected back from the night. He was clean-shaven, his features strong and chiseled. He was a man who laughed and smiled readily, but at the moment, there was something unreadable in his expression. Then it was gone and he smiled at her, turning in her arms.

“I will, but first there is something I need.”

Before she could ask him what that was, he cupped her heart-shaped face in his hands, holding her still as he kissed her thoroughly. She could feel that fire, barely banked inside her, rising up again, and she leaned into the kiss, opening her mouth hungrily for him.

Sometime during their embrace, her towel slipped to the floor, pooling around her feet. He ran a practiced hand up her back and then down again to rest on the curve of her rear. She could feel his erection pressing against her thigh, and for a moment, the idea of simply skipping dinner was very real.

It was Nasim who pulled away with a regretful sigh.

“You are as correct as you are beautiful. I need to shower before we go to my family home, and if I let you distract me, then you shall need another shower as well.”

Ella grinned at the idea of sliding into the shower with him, but that wouldn't get them to their destination any earlier. Her grin faded when she saw that Nasim wore that somber look again.

“Nasim, what is it?”

He shook his head slightly. “It is nothing, truly. I suppose I am simply a little nervous.”

“I'm the one meeting your family; shouldn't I be the nervous one?”

This time, the grin he flashed her was real. “You should never be nervous about anything,” he declared. “You are beautiful, you are clever, and any man would be lucky to have you on his arm. There is nothing that should ever make you nervous.”

She accepted his kiss, but now she wondered if there was something stilted about it, something that was different from the way they had been kissing for the last six weeks. Before she could ask, he smiled and walked towards the bathroom, leaving her alone.

She decided to put it out of her mind. She had bigger things to think about right this moment, and even if Nasim was very kind to say that she had nothing to worry about, she was meeting her lover's family for the first time, after all.

She dressed carefully in the traditional long skirt and tunic that she had bought when she arrived in Khayyam. She knew that the country was fairly modern, but Nasim had told her that his family was traditional in many ways. She had found a beautiful dress shop that sold traditional outfits, and she had fallen in love at once. The outfit she presently wore draped elegantly over her slender frame, was a deep blue gently scattered with crystal beads.

Brushing out her hair until it gained a brassy shine, she wondered what Nasim would think. Would he be less entranced with her when she was dressed in something traditional? Did he only care about her when she was dressed in the tailored garments of an American professional?

She had her answer when he stepped out of the bathroom, buttoning up his white shirt. For a moment she was struck by the sight of him in a crisp shirt and well-tailored trousers, but then he was across the room and sweeping her up in his arms.

“Do you even know how beautiful you are?” he murmured between kisses. “Do you even know how much you make me want you?”

She allowed the kisses for a moment, but then she pushed him back. “Later,” she promised, quickly turning so she wouldn’t see the dark look once again cross his face.

***

Nasim had told her they were going to his family home, and she knew that he was the youngest brother of the current Sheikh of Khayyam, but somehow, she hadn't put two and two together. There was a short drive along a treacherous mountain road, and suddenly they were pulling into the long drive of what looked like a small medieval mansion.

She gasped upon seeing it, and Nasim grinned at her.

“It was built by a sheikh in the thirteenth century for his beloved wife,” he told her. “We've kept it updated of course, but I like to think the love and the beauty remains.”

It was an elegant structure, and perhaps even more remarkably, it was built directly into the stone of the mountain. The beauty of the mansion lay not only in its clean lines and its bright lights, but also in its gorgeous isolation.

This is his home,
Ella thought tenderly.
This is who he is and where he came from.

 
She thought that dinner started well. She was introduced to Nasim's mother and grandmother first. They greeted her warmly, but she wondered if there was a kind of reserve to their actions, a hesitation in their embraces. She had traveled to the Middle East before, though never to Khayyam, and previously, she had found that the women were happy to greet her as if she were a long-lost sister. Perhaps the people of Khayyam were a little cooler?

“We should sit down to dinner,” Nasim's mother said. “Your brothers will be delayed, and they said to start without them.”

Nasim frowned at that, but his mother put her hand on his sleeve. He nodded, but that odd tension was back.

The dinner itself was sumptuous, but despite the perfectly grilled lamb and the delicate salads, Ella knew that something was wrong. There were two empty chairs at the table that seemed to menace her, that made her glance at them nervously over and over again. After she had tried repeatedly to draw Nasim's mother and grandmother into conversation, the table lapsed into silence.

They were waiting for one of the servants to bring out the desserts when she finally had to ask. “What have I done wrong?” she asked quietly. “I'm sorry, have I offended you somehow?”

Nasim's mother looked stricken, but then the door opened and the answer appeared.

“You are an offense,” snapped the man who came in. “You are a westerner who should have stayed in Dalal, and not been brought to the family home.”

The man who came in was slightly shorter than Nasim, but just as broad. His face was similar enough that it made Ella gape for a moment because she couldn't imagine those cruel words coming out of her lover's mouth. Instead of being dressed in a western style, as Nasim was, this man was dressed in the dark traditional robes worn by Khayyam men.

Following on his heels was a man who was slighter, but also resembled Nasim. He wore black robes as well, and his scowl was tremendous.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she realized that these were Nasim's older brothers, and that the one in the lead must be Sheikh Azim, the current power of the country.

 “I'm sorry,” she said, stricken, “I don't understand.”

“What is there to understand?” asked Azim with a sneer. “My brother believes that he can go play westerner for a year, and when he comes back, he does not have the sense to leave his whores in town waiting for him. Instead, he brings them to the place where our family lives, where our mother and grandmother reside.”

Heat rose up in Ella's face. Her heart beat a violent tattoo in her chest as she staggered to her feet.

“No! I'm not … I'm not  …”

Azim raked scornful eyes up and down her body. “Did Nasim not tell you what you are?” he asked cuttingly. “Perhaps he doesn't know, but that seems very unlikely. Let me tell you then. I am Sheikh Azim Bakkal. In my veins runs the blood of kings and eagles. Nasim's duty is to keep that blood pure, and you, little woman, are a pollutant that he should know better than to bring into the ancestral home of his clan.”

Ella couldn't take it anymore. She spun to look at Nasim, but he wasn't looking at her. Instead, he was gazing at his brother, and though there was fury in his gaze, he did nothing. He did not leap up to defend her. He did not shout at his brother, and she realized with a sinking sensation that he wasn't going to.

Her nerve broke. Her face felt like it was on fire, and all she could do was run out of the room before the angry brothers could see her cry.

She found herself in the garage where the cars were kept, and she wandered blindly until she found Nasim's black Mercedes. To her fevered brain, it was as if she had never gotten out of the car, as if what had just happened was nothing but a bad dream.

For what felt like a long time, she simply leaned against the car. Some timeless moment later, she heard approaching footsteps, and looked up to see a man in a chauffeur uniform approaching.

“Miss, I have been sent to take you back to your hotel,” he said.

She let herself be escorted into a luxurious Rolls Royce, but she was already thinking ahead. She could get back to the hotel in the city. She could book her flight. She'd probably have to fly from Dalal to Dubai, but she might even be able to get on the flight tonight. The idea of staying in the suite for even another twelve hours was unbearable.

She would fly back to New York. She would pretend this had never, ever happened.

She would forget.

She would be fine.

Chapter 2

The party, like so many of the celebrations thrown by New York's most esteemed literati, was still lively even after 2 AM. Ella could feel herself flagging badly, but when her editor, Joe Vega, appeared, she did her best to look ready for action.

“Hiya, Daniels,” he said expansively. “Did you expect the Murat girl to put out this kind of how?”

The Murat girl was Amala Murat, a young Saudi writer who had landed on Ella's desk almost a year ago. The moment she had read Murat's first line, Ella knew that she had something special, and almost before she read the last ones, she was signing the young author to the publishing company. Quill Publishing was not shy about taking chances, and this was one that was going to pay off. Some critics were already talking Pulitzer.

“I could be modest about it, but yeah, I had an idea,” she said cockily. “I knew she was something special.”

“So are you.”

She looked up a little sharply at that, but where other men might have made an unwelcome overture, Joe Vega was only looking after business.

“You have talent, and you picked a winner this time, but I'm worried you're wasted in New York.”

“Boss?”

He grinned, showing off sharp white teeth. Before he had gotten his start in publishing, he had worked in the butcher shops of New York, and she always thought she could catch a whiff of blood off of him.

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