Wrapped in Pleasure (16 page)

“S
heikh Jamal Ari Yasir is on the line, Your Highness.”

Turning from the hotel window, Sheikh Rasheed Valdemon nodded before moving across the suite to pick up the phone on the desk. It was the call he’d been expecting. “Has she been found, Jamal?” he asked immediately upon placing the receiver to his ear.

“No, she has not, Monty.”

“Damn,” Rasheed muttered. That single word was an American form of swearing, an expression of anger, irritation and contempt. However, at this particular moment, for him it represented infuriation to the nth degree.

Sheikh Jamal Ari Yasir of Tahran was the brother of Rasheed’s missing fiancée and a man he had always considered a good friend. Both he and Jamal were heirs to the thrones of their native sheikhdoms, and had met in their teens while attending a private boarding school in France.
During those days Rasheed had been called Monty by his friends.

“Jamal, are you sure that she disappeared of her own free will and there was no foul play involved?” Rasheed asked with concern in his voice.

“Yes, Monty, I am sure. Right after she outsmarted her bodyguard and got away from him, she did take time to call Fatimah, my stepmother, to let her know she was safe but needed time to herself. She indicated a need to ‘have fun’ and would deal with the consequences later.”

Rasheed took a deep breath. How dare Johari Nefretiri Yasir, the woman that he had been destined to marry since her birth twenty-four years ago—a marriage that had been arranged by their grandfathers to bring about an allegiance between their two countries—deliberately disappear here in the United States so she could delay her marriage to him and just for the frivolous reason of
having fun
?

For the past two years Johari had been attending Harvard University and now that she had graduated a week ago, she was to return to her native land of Tahran to begin planning for their wedding, which was to take place at the end of the year. Although they were to marry, he and his fiancée had never met. Such a thing was not unusual in their countries. In his opinion, meeting the day of the wedding would have been soon enough.

“Rasheed? Are you still there?”

His mind had been drifting and he forced himself to focus. “Yes, Jamal.”

“I want to assure you that she will be found.”

Rasheed knew Jamal’s words to be true. Johari would eventually be found. But when? Based on Jamal’s sister’s behavior, Rasheed had sufficient grounds to call off the wedding. It was unlikely that many people would begrudge his decision to sever
all ties between them. Considering everything, both families would understand and support such a move on his part since Johari’s actions and conduct were not befitting the woman who would sit by his side as the future queen of Mowaiti.

“Monty, my family and I will understand if you decided to—”

“No, Jamal. I am committed to marrying your sister. Our grandfathers deemed it would be so and it will be,” he quickly cut in to say.

“Are you certain?”

Was he certain?
Rasheed breathed in deeply once again, knowing this was his way to bow gracefully out of the arranged marriage if he chose to take it. After all, he was thirty-nine years old and the thought of having to deal with a twenty-four-year-old whose idea of having fun was roaming around the United States unprotected, unsupervised and unchaperoned was a bit daunting and something he really wasn’t looking forward to. But his father, King Amin Valdemon, was ready for the heir apparent to take his place of leadership and preferably with a queen.

Since puberty Rasheed had enjoyed his choice of women, regardless of race, culture, ethnicity and nationality. And he took pride in the number of mistresses he’d accumulated over the years. They were women schooled in the art of pleasing a man, which made him a little apprehensive about acquiring a bride who lacked the skills and aptitudes he’d grown accustomed to. It was a good thing that in his country retaining his mistresses was acceptable even with a wife.

“Monty?”

His attention was once again drawn back to his conversation with Jamal. “Yes, Jamal. I’m certain that when this is over I will marry your sister.” He paused for a moment and then said, “However, there is one stipulation.”

“And what is that?”

“I want you to agree to allow me to use my own resources to locate her and once I have, I want you to let me handle things my way…and without any interference from anyone.”

There was a long pause and then, “All right, Monty, considering the circumstances, I will grant you what you’ve asked, and will advise my father and stepmother of such.”

Rasheed was only vaguely aware of hanging up the phone and moving across the room to retrieve his cell phone out of his jacket. He was well aware of how much Jamal cared for his youngest sister and for him to agree with Rasheed’s stipulation meant a substantial amount of trust. But then Rasheed
had
given Jamal his word that a wedding would take place regardless.

Rasheed would decide on how to deal with Johari once he found her. But first, he had to find her and he knew who could discreetly accomplish that task. He punched into his cell phone the number he knew from memory. Earlier that day, he had parted ways with Alex Maxwell after they had both attended the wedding of Luke Madaris and Mackenzie Stand-field.

The phone was picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Alex, this is Sheikh Rasheed Valdemon. There is someone I want you to find for me.”

Rasheed fixed a smile to his lips, satisfied because he knew that Alex was the one person capable of tracking and finding his runaway fiancée.

“H
ow do I look?” Her nerves energized with excitement, Johari Yasir turned from the full-length mirror to face Celine Humphrey. The two had met during Johari’s first year at Harvard and had been best friends since.

Cel, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed while flipping through a magazine, glanced at Johari and breathed deeply in frustration. “It’s too nice a dress for you to wear the day that you take your last breath, which is precisely what’s going to happen when your family finds you. I can’t believe I let you talk me into helping you get away from Saud.”

Johari couldn’t help but grin at the thought of how she had pulled a fast one over on the man who had been her bodyguard since her eighteenth birthday. “I’ve spoken to my mother to let her know I’m fine. And I’ve spoken to Arielle, as well,” she said of her older sister. “I would call Delaney if I thought Jamal wouldn’t try to have the call traced.” Delaney
was her brother’s wife, whom she had gotten very close to over the past eight years.

Johari turned back to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Her outfit, a tiered green lace minidress, was both stunning and flirtatious. It was just one of the many articles of clothing she had purchased earlier that day. It gave the appearance she wanted as an independent woman who was ready to go out on the night and have plenty of adventure.

“I can imagine what your mother said, but tell me anyway,” Cel said.

Johari turned back around to Cel and released a long sigh. “Of course Mom wanted me to come home. She thought she would make me feel better by reminding me that there is a twenty-four-year age difference between her and my father, and that they didn’t meet until the day of the wedding either, yet they get along beautifully and love each other madly.”

Johari paused for a second and then added, “Mom tried her best to assure me that I have nothing to fear in marrying Sheikh Rasheed Amin Hashim Valdemon just because he’s fifteen years older. She is confident I will eventually have the same type of marriage she and my father share.”

“But you don’t think so?”

“No. My father does not have any mistresses. The same thing can’t be said of the man I’m to marry. It is rumored that he has several and has been quoted in the press that he intends to keep them even after he’s married. That’s something I can’t accept.”

“What about your sister? Didn’t you say that she had an arranged marriage, too?”

“Yes, but Karim gave up his mistress before he married Arielle without her having to ask him to do so.”

“Have you asked to at least meet with your fiancé before the wedding to discuss your concerns?”

“What good would it do since it won’t change anything? Regardless of my feelings, the ceremony will go on so I’ve decided if I’m going to be stuck in a marriage with a man who I’ll be sharing with others, then I want to enjoy some of what life has to offer now.”

“What will happen when he discovers you’re still in the United States running around and partying and not back in Tahran planning your wedding like you’re supposed to be doing?”

Johari shrugged. “There’s no reason for him to know. I told Mom I was merely extending my time in this country for another two weeks. The sheikh does not have to know I’m doing so without my bodyguard. At the end of the two weeks I will then contact my family to let them know I’m ready to come home and they will send their private plane for me. Once I’m back in Tahran, I will start planning my wedding like a dutiful fiancée, which should appease everyone.”

“But what will happen if—”

Johari threw up her hands. “Please, Cel, no more questions. The only thing I want is for you to get dressed so we can go out tonight and get on the dance floor. Hurry. I only have two weeks before the walls come crashing down and I intend to live it up before that happens.”

Cel rolled her eyes as she eased off the bed. “You only have two weeks if your brother’s men don’t find you first. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when they do.”

Johari tossed her hair back from her shoulders and smiled. “Don’t worry. They
won’t
find me. I’ve done a very good job at covering my tracks.”

Rasheed walked into the Manhattan night club and found his future wife dancing on top of a table. He stopped dead in his tracks, not because of her outlandish behavior, but mainly
because the woman had to be, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Young and vibrant, she had eyes the color of black pearls that could only be found in the Persian Gulf; skin that reminded him of the golden sands of the Sahara; lips that were perfectly shaped; and long black wavy hair that flowed past her shoulders. A pair of dangling earrings swung from her ears and a matching necklace hung around a graceful, beautiful throat.

As Rasheed intently studied Johari, he suddenly felt a tight lump in his throat, and decided there was something about her that had the ability to scramble his hormones and heighten his senses. And judging by all the men gazing at her with lust in their eyes, he knew he wasn’t the only one entranced by her beauty.

He hung back, near the club’s entrance. An instinct that had him ready to defend his fiancée’s honor if he had to roared within him but he forced it back. He also tried to rein in a degree of desire that he hadn’t felt in a long time, something that was working its way through his system. He had experienced a strong sexual attraction for a woman before, but not this quick, immediate and deep.

As far as he was concerned, she hadn’t needed to dance on a table to get attention. Her looks and her figure would have demanded it anyway. When the tempo of the music increased a beat, she moved in such a provocative way that he found himself holding his breath. She tossed her head back, came close to the edge of the table but knew when to maneuver a few steps backward, never losing her balance while still keeping up with the rapid beat of the music. Her dress was short, way too short, and showing way too much thigh with the movements she was making. He began wondering just what was under that dress. A bra? There was a slim chance. A slip? He doubted it. Panties? For the love of Allah,
he hoped so. One sure thing about it, if her aim was to have fun then she was certainly enjoying herself. That much was showing on her face. It looked radiant. Simply glowing. And it was as beautiful as any one face could possibly be. Never had he met a woman whose features were so gut-stirringly striking.

Moving away from the door he glanced around, trying to find an empty table, and when he didn’t see one he headed for the bar. He took a seat at the same time the music came to an end, and noticed Johari was helped off the table by some anxious brute. A young Wall Street type who was probably looking for nothing more than a one-night stand.

Rasheed’s jaw clenched. Not on his watch and not with his fiancée.

The same protective instinct he had experienced earlier flared again within him and he forced it back down as he erased the frown on his face. As the youngest daughter of a king, Johari Yasir’s behavior should be befitting that of royalty—stately, decorous and dignified. With the outfit she was wearing, the dance she’d just performed, and the male attention she was getting, not to mention the way she tossed her head back, sending a mass of black wavy hair flying around her shoulders, how could the male patrons resist her? At that moment, Johari let out one hell of a sensuous laugh that reverberated through the club. With her head tilted back, Johari was the picture of a young woman whose behavior was wild, reckless and apparently out of control.

“What can I get you tonight?”

Rasheed tossed his drink order to the bartender over his shoulder as he continued to watch Johari, who had thanked the man and was now walking over to the table where another woman was sitting. At least she had had the good sense not to come to the club alone.

“Here you are, mister.”

He thanked the bartender for his drink, stood up to retrieve his wallet from his pocket to pay his bill and then eased back on the stool. He took a sip of his drink while trying to decide the best way to handle Johari and the situation she had placed him in. He could simply approach her, tell her who he was and then let her know, in no uncertain terms, that she would be leaving with him, calmly, kicking, screaming or otherwise.

However, he had visited the United States on enough occasions, had even lived here for a few years while he, Jamal and a number of his international friends had attended Harvard, so he knew to cause a ruckus by forcing her against her will would be considered unlawful. Although he knew he would be justified because by agreeing to his stipulation her family had virtually transferred her well-being to his care and control.

His limo, which was being driven by his bodyguard and trusted servant, Ishaq, was parked out front, ready to whisk him and Johari to the airport where his private plane sat on the tarmac ready to fly wherever he instructed his pilot to take them. He could return her to her family with instructions that they keep her under lock and key if they had to.

He smiled at the thought and glanced back across the room. He met her gaze the same exact time she met his. And at that moment his reaction to her was once again astounding. Despite his best efforts he couldn’t stop the sudden pounding in his chest or the heat that began forming in the pit of his stomach. Conversation was all around him, but everything was blocked out as his total concentration was on the woman who had totally captivated him.

He was hypnotized by the beautiful dark eyes holding his. They were virtually strangers, yet there was something about the look they were giving each other that was far too intimate.
He found it puzzling yet at the same time intriguing. It was only when her friend said something to her, capturing her attention, that she finally broke eye contact with him to look away.

After a few brief moments Rasheed’s decision had been made. Johari knew the identity of the man she was to marry only as Sheikh Rasheed Amin Valdemon. Therefore, he would introduce himself as Monty. His surname would be the one he had begun using a couple of years ago while doing business in this country after he’d become an honorary member of the Madaris family.

When she glanced back over at him and their eyes met once again, a slow smile touched his lips. Since his rebellious fiancée wanted to have some fun he intended to make sure she got just what she wanted. But she would be having it on his terms.

“Is there any reason you keep looking at that man sitting at the bar, Jo?”

Johari pulled her gaze away from the sexy stranger with the dark piercing eyes, skin the color of almond, and straight black hair that flowed loosely around his shoulders. He had to be the sexiest man she had ever seen.

Barely catching her breath, she couldn’t help but smile. “He is absolutely gorgeous,” she whispered. “Every woman here is staring at him. You would be too if you weren’t so in love with Gary.”

Cel rolled her eyes. “I might be in love but I’m not blind. I checked him out when he walked in.” She returned Johari’s smile when she said, “I agree. He’s absolutely gorgeous.”

Johari leaned closer over the table. “So tell me, who is he? This is New York. Do you think he’s a movie star?”

“Possibly, although I don’t recall seeing him in any movie I’ve ever watched. I would remember, trust me,” Cel said,
quickly glancing over at him. “And look how well dressed he is. All the way down to his Italian shoes. Hmm, I think he’s an international playboy.”

Johari couldn’t help but look over at the bar again. He was still staring at her as he sipped his drink. Although the man had an extremely handsome face, there was something about him that hinted at a degree of ruthlessness as well as a level of hardness and intolerance. There was a glint of danger that lurked in the depths of his eyes. What Johari found really unsettling was that she was drawn to him nonetheless. She found such aspects of his character intriguing and totally captivating, mainly because she believed he could also be gallant and charming if he chose to be. And as if to prove that particular point, he picked that moment to smile at her.

It was a slow, sexy smile that curved his lips and as his eyes bored into her, her body reacted in a way she couldn’t understand; a way she had never experienced before. Her heart began pounding against her ribs. Goose bumps were forming on her arms and she felt a definite stirring in her stomach. His gaze scanned over her body, analyzing every part of her. For some reason she felt he had a clear view of those regions that were fully clothed. It was as if her little short dress was invisible, and her body was totally naked to his eyes.

Johari thought Cel was right about him being a playboy. Lover of women. International jet-setter. Possibly a billionaire businessman. Thanks to her brother, she knew his type. There was something about him that reminded her of Jamal during his pre-Delaney days. She bet this man could have any woman he chose, wasn’t that easily impressed, and possessed the power to render any woman senseless.

Johari’s gaze was dragged away from the stranger’s when a waitress came to the table to refill her and Cel’s drinks. She glanced over at her friend to find Cel watching her. “What?”

A concerned frown marred Cel’s forehead. “I’m having second thoughts about flying out in the morning and leaving you here in New York alone.”

Johari smiled. Cel would be meeting Gary in Florida, where the two would be cruising to the Bahamas. “I’ll be fine and I promise to stay out of trouble.”

Cel tore her gaze from Johari to glance over at the man sitting at the bar. “Even with him?” she asked, returning her attention to Johari. “He’s still watching you and that can only mean one thing.”

Johari lifted a brow. “What?”

“He wants you.”

Something stirred within Johari at the thought. She stared at Cel. “He wants me?”

Cel nodded slowly “Yes, he wants you in his bed. I know that look, Jo.” Cel glanced back over her shoulder and then looked at Johari and said, “Yes, he definitely wants you. I can feel the heat.”

Johari didn’t want to admit that she could feel the heat, as well, and now that Cel had fully explained what his interest implied, she could actually feel blood gushing fast and furiously through her veins. Why? Why would the thought of being seduced by a stranger fill her mind with such naughty thoughts?