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CHAPTER ONE
Omar Khalil grasped Anna around her shoulders and his heart leapt up into his throat. Holding her in his arms, he mumbled in shock. “Goddess.”
Her chocolate brown eyes lifted and they locked into a frozen moment of connection. The room swirled and slowed around them, and soon, all either of them could hear or feel was the pulse of the other. Omar had known she was at this convention, but he’d not yet looked for her, instead opting to finalize his few meetings and appearances before seeking her out and begging for her to join him in his life.
But here she was, and the instant hydration to his parched heart was all the proof he needed to confirm his inner knowledge that Anna Potts was indeed his soul mate. As wrong or unfathomable as it seemed, he was certain that this American, this young daughter of his former business partner, was meant to be his future wife and queen when he became the King.
Anna’s eyes widened again and her pupils narrowed down to pin pricks. He thought she looked dizzy, and then she swayed. She gulped out, “Omar.”
He tightened his grip and then pulled her up against his body, and within a second, her legs went limp and she would have collapsed to the floor if not for his support. His second in command and personal bodyguard Armand stepped to his side, and together they moved Anna’s limp body to a bench along the wall. Omar sat and pulled her up against his chest. He whispered, “Get the car around to the back, we are leaving.”
Armand immediately barked orders, in Arabic, to the other men standing at attention. Three peeled away and Armand motioned for a bottle of water. Omar continued to hold Anna and pet at her head. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, cupping her small face. Then he gently kissed her lips and whispered low enough so no-one could hear him, “Anna, I love you. We are meant to be together, you are my queen.”
Anna moaned and her lashes fluttered open and closed a few times. Concern flooded her expression and she croaked, “Did I pass out?”
Omar nodded and grinned, petting her again, “Almost my love.”
“Oh god,” she groaned and covered her eyes with her hand. “I am so sorry.”
Omar’s chest lifted in a silent chuckle, “Never apologize for being overwhelmed by our connection Anna. What we have is strong, and I too am stunned with how I feel for you.”
Anna took a few inhales through her nose and let her lids close shut in weariness. She muttered, “You should hate me.”
Omar shook her shoulders until she opened her eyes to narrow slits, “Anna, it is only money that you lost. That your father mistakenly lost because of his cavalier attitude, because he should have never left you in charge of those transactions. I will never blame you, ever. I would give a kingdom for you, and what we lost back in the fall? That was nothing in comparison to having you in my life. I would pay it ten times over if you would agree to run away with me, be mine; join me in my life. I need you Anna. I’ve never needed another the way I need you.”
Anna’s quick wit flared in her eyes and she gave him a perplexed expression, “Wow. Have you ever told someone that?”
Omar shook his head and paused in thought, “No Anna. Never.”
CHAPTER TWO
It took me way too long to process what was happening after I crashed into Omar Khalil’s expensively suited body. Much too long to realize I was having a mini panic attack and that I really couldn’t get air into my lungs. My heart ratcheted up behind my sternum until it felt like my ribs would break, and then of course my vision had gone wonky until Omar looked like he was at the end of a long, narrow tunnel.
I expected him to hate me; I had rejected his request to stay with him, and lost him well over one million dollars. But his look was not one of hate at all; it was adoration. His hands on my shoulders felt as if I was naked and his heat was burning my bare flesh. The rest of my body also fully woke up in the midst of fainting. That harp string I’d felt earlier, that same feeling I had when Omar made love to me, or looked at me, had erupted into a full blown orchestra strumming away inside my belly.
I must have interpreted his expression all wrong. I must have. It was an impossibility that this God of the desert felt this way about me; it had to be my skewed perceptions. Oh god, why can’t I breathe? Why can’t I feel my legs? And of course, my bottom half reacted obscenely yet again, something it only did when I was with Omar.
I’d not had sex or even touched myself since the last time the Arabian Prince had touched me, six months ago. It had taken me more than a month to even come out of the depression I’d sunk down into after being fired by my father for losing Mr. Khalid well over a million dollars in a commodity exchange I’d forgotten to finalize. Being dismissed, and then ignored by my father had paled in comparison to the void of despair I’d felt at losing Omar. After six months, I was certain he wanted nothing to do with me, ever again.
What was he doing here in San Diego? What was I doing here is a better question. Damn Julie for dragging me here anyway. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I,” Omar began and then abruptly closed his mouth. I waited and again felt incredibly light headed.
I tried to sit up, but in doing so I once again saw stars and I knew I was going to get sick. I put my hand over my mouth and mumbled, “Sick.”
A tall cylindrical trash can was immediately placed near me and I clung to it as I vomited and shook. Omar held my hair and cooed as he petted my neck. I heard him explaining, “She does not do well with stress. This is why I must protect her.”
I closed my lids and rolled my eyes behind them. I hated this feeling of weakness and fragility, but I had to be honest, Omar was right; as well as I did in some things, I did equally poor in others, and stress was one of them. It always rendered me useless and sick, laying on a bathroom floor somewhere, crying and curled into a fetal ball. How I would end up a powerful trial attorney was beyond me. I couldn’t even deal with seeing the man I’d lost my virginity to just a few short months earlier.
I leaned my back against the wall, and a water bottle was soon offered. I weakly nodded and took it. My hand was still shaking and the water vibrated along with the rest of my body. Omar wrapped his arms around my waist and held me tighter, as if that could stop my trembling. I guess he didn’t realize it was him causing it.
I finally took notice of the previously packed hallway and the few onlookers. I was mostly surrounded by a wall of Omar’s men, all Arabian men, or rather, all of them, not Caucasian. They were immense and made a great barricade, but I also found them rather suffocating. I croaked, “I need some air.”
I wanted to walk, but Omar picked me up and stood in one graceful movement, showing off
his incredible strength. I protested briefly, and he gave me a stern expression. I sighed and wrapped my arms around his neck and drew my lips into a tight line. Fine, he needed to be all dominant and the protector, my savior. I let my head sag against his chest, and he held me tighter.
I closed my eyes, trying to not get sick again and breathing through my nose. I heard his men speaking in hushed tones, although I didn’t understand the language. I heard a door pushed open and then more words in Arabic. And then the sun hit my face and the cool ocean air brushed my cheek. Omar sat down and I finally opened my eyes. “Here, here Anna. Sit up, let me help you. The fresh air will clear your head.”
I obeyed and wobbled as I pushed upright and ended up sitting next to Omar on a wooden bench that overlooked the beach. We were in the courtyard of the hotel where the business conference was being held, and as I looked around, I realized we were entirely alone. “Where are your men?”
“I sent them away. I need to talk to you; I need to be with just you. Has your head cleared yet?” Omar asked.
I bit my lip and took more deep breaths through my nose. “Getting there.” I asked him again, “Omar, what are you doing here?”
