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I could feel his reluctance to let me go, but he did and turned without a word. I poured us some tea and decided to sit in the chair—not on the couch where he could reach me easily. He looked huge sitting in my tiny living room, on my tiny sofa. He was stunningly beautiful, and my entire body salivated at him being so near. I swallowed repeatedly, and then suddenly my stomach roiled and I knew I’m going to be sick. Dammit!
I excused myself and rushed to the bathroom. I tried and be as quiet as possible, but I knew he could hear me retching. After mouthwash and more apologies, I took my seat and stared at him. He stared back.
“What do you need to tell me, Julie?” his voice was an odd mix of stern and curious.
I lifted my finger and sipped my ginger tea. “I have some questions for you, first.” He nodded and picked up his tea, dragging the tea bag through the steaming water without taking his eyes from mine. Still as unsettled as I’ve ever felt, I continued.
“Anna just told me you are a sheikh? You have your own country? Abu Dhabi? Is that right? You’re like a king?”
“That is correct.” He answered as if it were common knowledge.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“My status should make no difference to you.” he rejoined.
“But it does!”
He cocked his head, looking confused. “Why? We were simply sating a crave when we originally met.”
“True—but—but, now it matters.”
“Well, now you know.” I made an exacerbated sound, and he chuckled. “Yes, I am fully aware I frustrate you, Julie. You have more questions? What do you need to know?” He spread his arms in a graceful movement, not even sloshing any of his tea.
I blurted, “Are you married?”
“I was.”
“Divorced?” I squeaked, thinking the Arab populous didn’t believe in divorce.
“Widower.”
I nodded. I wanted details, but those were not absolutely necessary at this moment. “Children? Do you have children?”
“I had a son. He too died. He was twelve.”
“Oh wow. I’m so sorry.”
“I will never recover from losing them. I’ve learned how to live and move past it. It was a horrible episode in my history.” He seemed rattled that I’d dug up something he’d tried so hard to bury, and I understood.
“I lost both of my parents when I was young. I don’t think we can ever fully heal from that kind of wound.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything else.
“On a lighter note, do you mind if I ask you something kind of personal. I realize it might be a naïve question.” He motioned with his hand that I continue. “Do you have a harem?”
He let out an ironic chuckle, “We have concubine, not harem.” I lifted my brows and gave him a half grin. “I have three women who will service me should I need them.”
I bit my lip and gave him a solemn nod. “Three. Wow. Only three?”
He bumped his chest in amusement, “Yes only three. I will ease your thoughts, princess. I’ve not called upon any of my women for years.”
This gave me hope, and I tried to hide my relief. “Whatever—none of my business.”
“You just made it your business,” he reminded me. Then he leaned forward and set his cup on the table between us.
“Julie. How can I make myself clear? Must I confess all my sins to you? Will it ease your thoughts to know I’d not taken a lover for years? Since the death of my wife and child? Will that make you feel better? Does it help to know—you were my first lover in years? You have wrought a toll on not only my body, but my heart.”
He covered his heart with a broad palm as emphasis. “I too thought perhaps we would simply romp, have a distracting weekend at the wedding of my best friend. Initially, I thought the same as you—just a thing? Right?”
