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Hakim.
Unmistakable, for he had not changed since that first meeting, except, perhaps, that he now exuded an even greater air of authority.
She crossed her arms across her chest, and she could feel her chest shaking beneath her shirt.
“So,” he drawled slowly, his eyes glinting in his handsome face as he looked her up and down with slow derision, “you have arrived.”
He was wearing what she assumed to be a traditional Mehranian outfit. Beige pants, loose, and a white shirt with gold trim. It offset his tan wonderfully, and lent him an air of exotic sexiness that was instantly confusing.
Sexiness? She balked at the word. How could she even think that about him? She hated this man! And all men like him. He wasn’t the first handsome man she’d met. And he was certainly not sexy. Not to her, anyway.
“Yes. I have arrived.” She made a point of looking down the length of her nose. “And I want to know what the heck that room is supposed to be?”
Hakim looked where she pointed, his eyes darker than normal. Her disgust was obvious. Then again, Phoebe Douglas-Cauve made a point of being superior and judgmental, didn’t she? Out of nowhere, a childish desire to prickle her temperament assailed him. “What you would call a harem,” he responded with a shrug. “Did you like it?”
“Like it?” Unconsciously she took a step further away from the room. Out of nowhere, visions of beautiful women in traditional outfits came to her, their long hair coiled into plaits on their heads, their bodies supple and oiled, awaiting their master, to pleasure and please, and be pleased by. She thought of the bed, and the chair, and the ointments, and goodness knows what else she had missed on her hurried inspection. Instead of the disgust she knew she should feel, she felt an odd jolt of awareness. Something dangerously close to arousal. She shook her head forcefully to hide the way her body seemed to be responding to the image. “A harem? I had no idea you were still so barbaric.”
His smile was tinged with cruel laughter. “Careful, Phoebe. You can get in a lot of trouble in Mehran by insulting me.”
Phoebe’s eyes sparked. “Then it would be a good idea for us not to speak to one another, for I find it difficult to see you and not want to lay insults at your feet.” She had no idea where the assertion had come from. After all, she’d come to Mehran knowing it was imperative that she impress her benefactor. Without Hakim’s agreement, she would never gain access to her trust fund, and she needed the money. Badly. She would do just about anything to get him onside.
His handsome face set into an expression of resigned frustration. “If you are unable to help yourself then, might I suggest we relocate to somewhere a little more private?”
Without waiting for her approval, he pushed open the door to her bedroom, and preceded her inside. Phoebe followed, keeping her temper under control with effort.
“Why have you put me in this room? So close to the harem?” She blurted out, whipping around to face him. As her eyes landed on his body, so big and imposing, she felt a shiver of anticipation and warning.
He turned to face her, his expression one of just concealed impatience. “This is the suite of rooms traditionally reserved for the Sheikh’s most valued concubine.”
“Concubine?” She repeated, her face clearly showing how appalled she was.
“Lover,” he clarified, his eyes watching her thoughtfully. Yes, he was definitely enjoying this. Her discomfort amused him. She was spoiled and over-indulged, and he doubted anyone had ever said ‘boo’ to her in her life.
Phoebe swallowed convulsively, warring emotions making her body feel weak. She hated Hakim! She always had. It was only her prudish nature that was making her pulse tremble at his suggestive words. And he didn’t like her, either. In fact, she suspected he was enjoying this- seeing her on the back foot, lost for words and uncertain of herself.
“You’re laughing at me,” she guessed quietly, tilting her chin in an unknowingly defiant angle.
“Why, Phoebe Douglas-Cauve, would I laugh at you?” He murmured with a small shake of his head. ?
??I assure you, I do not find anything about this situation amusing.” A warm breeze blew through the open window, making the transparent fabric billow into the room. She watched it, pretending distraction, desperate to regain a level footing.
“You’re trying to make me uncomfortable. By putting me near your harem.”
His eyes flashed. If Phoebe had known him better, she would have understood that Hakim was just managing to keep his emotions in check. “Not my harem,” he corrected. “I do not approve of the practice that was so enjoyed by my predecessors. Believe me, Phoebe, I share your feelings on this matter.”
Her eyes lifted to his, relieved, but still confused. “Then why leave it as it is?”
Another shrug, as if to say he couldn’t quite understand her objections. “Simply because I do not agree with harems does not mean I do not enjoy sex. And sex with women in a variety of ways and positions can be very enjoyable.”
Attraction and desire were unmistakable now. Phoebe looked away from him, determined to keep her voice level. “Now I know you’re laughing at me.”
“That was not an invitation, habibte. You are certainly not my type.” His laugh was like caramel down her spine, but she felt an accompanying lurch of disappointment in the pit of her stomach.
She returned to her original question, forcing her mind to deviate from the images it was busy conjuring. Of this man, enormous and powerful, dark and desirable, against the crisp white linen of the bed. “Why have you put me in these rooms? Surely there must be other guest suites in a place like this.” She raised her hand and gestured around the room.
“Yes,” he agreed curtly. He crossed the room and put a hand in the small of her back. As soon as she felt his touch, her body seemed to spark with electricity. It was instant and it was strong. Her eyes flew to his, in surprise, but there was nothing there except bland civility. “These rooms are, however, the best of the guest suites, as befitted the stature of its previous occupants. They have the added advantage of being close to my apartment, so that I may check on you whenever I see fit, to be sure you are not leading any of my men astray.” She glared at him, to cover the way her body was responding to his touch. “Besides,” he flicked a quick smile at her. “These rooms also enjoy private access to this.” She followed his gaze, to the large swimming pool beneath her bedroom.
A sigh escaped her lips, for it was a truly beautiful sight to behold. The pool had been tiled in turquoise and blue mosaics, creating a shimmering impression, and it was surrounded by elegant palm trees. “It’s beautiful,” she said truthfully, though his nearness was still sending little barbs of uncertain desire catapulting through her body.
