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But it was not.
The problem with an obsession like hers, when combined with a mind trained to analyze and dissect, was how it forced Anisah to also see beyond the sheikh’s good looks. In the past, all she had known of the sheikh was what she saw of him in passing and what she learned of him from the news. He was an unabashed playboy, a charming ne’er do well, a selfish sybarite, the beloved subject of many a society columnist.
To be fair to the sheikh, however, Anisah was also aware of the times his name made it to the front pages every time he scored one win or another in foreign affairs. She had read all of those articles as well, but she had always thought of those achievements the result of his department’s hard work as a whole rather than a personal feat of the sheikh’s.
Her inexplicable, ill-advised obsession with him had proved her wrong about this, though.
Foreign affairs had always been one of the more treacherous arenas in politics, with a single misstep more than enough to wage the costliest of wars and cause the deaths of millions in the worst-case scenarios. Egos in this field were no different from landmines in battle-ravaged nations, and it had only taken Anisah a little over a day to come to the grudging realization that everything she and the whole world knew about the sheikh was naught but a product of a strategically constructed image.
The way Tarif Al-Atassi blatantly courted trouble and flagrantly eschewed tradition – all of it was but a cover-up meant to encourage other governments to underestimate the sheikh, and all of them had fallen for the sheikh’s trap hook, line, and sinker.
Just like she had.
The realization chafed at her still, and Anisah stared cantankerously at the ongoing commotion before her. Most of the audience had rushed forward in hopes of having a photo taken with Tarif Al-Atassi and this, too, she supposed was another good thing about the sheikh. He might be arrogance personified, but she had never heard a story of the sheikh turning a local away no matter how busy he was.
So, yes, all in all, he was not as bad as she had thought, Anisah thought moodily.
But it still didn’t mean she was completely wrong about him. He had still slept with all of those women, and they had all still ended up heartbroken by the time the sheikh had left them.
And like it or not, you’re no different from them, Anisah told herself. So! Keep! Your! Distance!
Anisah came clumsily to her feet, suddenly feeling the need to put as much distance as possible between her and the sheikh. But just as she started to turn away, the sheikh lifted his dark head, and with him towering over everyone else around him, his ebony eyes immediately and unerringly swiveled into a collision course with Anisah’s gaze.
Oh...stars...above...
Everyone seemed so engrossed at being able to get so close to the sheikh that none of them appeared to notice his gaze wasn’t on any of the phones they had trained on him. Instead, his burning gaze was fully focused on Anisah, and her teeth gnashed at the lust that glittered so shamelessly in his eyes.
After practically ignoring her the entire week, acting like he had completely forgotten her existence, and his desire for her was but a figment of Anisah’s imagination -
She glowered at the sheikh. The gall of you, to look at me so after the way you had treated me!
But the sheikh’s eyes only smirked at her. Is that your way of saying you missed me?
Her hands flew to her mouth just in time to keep herself from gasping. Cursed, pompous man!
His lips moved, the sheikh mouthing his words, and despite her better judgment, Anisah found herself working hard to discern what he was saying.
Don’t...worry...I...missed...you...too!
Wait.
What?
No!
Argh!
“Tarif? Are you coming?” Rayyan called out impatiently to his cousin from the other end of the floor.
Tarif cast one last amused look at the direction in which Anisah had stomped away before turning around to follow his cousin out of the hall.
Anisah was still shaking in a mixture of embarrassment and outrage even by the time she slid into the backseat of a cab. She wrapped her arms around herself, hoping it would help calm her down, but instead it only made her excruciatingly aware of the lingering impact of the sheikh’s words. Her breasts still felt heavy and swollen against the cups of her bra, her nipples were painfully erect, and her hot, moist core was aching and begging for another taste of his hardness.
She squeezed her eyes shut in a futile attempt to block the memories out, but it was impossible. They came back to her in a flash, vividly erotic, and the triangle between her legs became wetter and wetter – oh dear heavens, but her panties were wet beyond redemption now.
Tarif Al-Atassi was not the kind of man she should want, and yet –
Anisah slowly placed a trembling hand against her chest, and the terrifying truth of her reality readily made itself known, her heart drumming hard and fast in its wild clamor for something she dared not name.
