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As if reading the question in her eyes, the sheikh said silkily, “I asked that he allow us a moment of privacy.” He paused. “I have a feeling your presence here has something to do with the blind item in today’s gossip columns?”
Her lips pressed together. “You’ve read it then?” Every word of it had been horrible, with the gossip writer using the most salacious terms to paint the most disgustingly lewd picture.
Apparently, the reporter who had caught them together at last week’s ball had been quite the Peeping Tom. Having seen Anisah also go down on her knees, the reporter had pretended to accidentally enter the room in hopes of gaining clues to her identity.
What those clues could be, Anisah had no idea, but somehow the reporter had managed to put one and one together, enough to deduce that the sheikh’s anonymous companion was someone employed at the palace.
“I cannot risk having the reporter discover who I am, Your Highness.”
“And so you desire my help to clear your name?”
“Nem, alshaykh.” Anisah practically choked on the words, but she had no choice. The blind item had more or less labeled her as the palace’s Jezebel, and if the article was ever linked to her, it could very well place her expected tenure in jeopardy.
And she couldn’t afford to let that happen.
Growing edgy at the sheikh’s continuing silence, she lifted her frowning gaze to him, asking, “Are you not concerned about this, Your Highness?”
“Should I be?”
“Did you even read the article?” she demanded. “The writer described you as having desecrated the palace by turning it into your sex den,” Anisah pointed out. “Does this not offend you, Your Highness?”
“Normally, I would say yes, but – these circumstances are special.”
Anisah frowned at the way the sheikh’s voice remained irritatingly complacent. “Do you really not care a whit about this, Your Highness?”
“I do, of course,” the sheikh acknowledged, “but probably not in the way you are envisioning.”
Her arms swung, and she was about to absently plant her hands on her hips when she realized what she was doing, and her teeth gnashed as she clasped her hands behind her back instead.
It would not do to seem as if she was berating the kingdom’s beloved sheikh – even if that was exactly what she wanted to do.
“You act as if you are pleased with this,” Anisah muttered.
“I am.”
Anisah choked.
A grim smile touched the sheikh’s lips. “I told you, did I not?”
“Told me what?”
“What we have is inevitable.”
Oh.
OH!
And Anisah started rubbing the sides of her temple, which had now started to ache. “What exactly are you saying?” And please let it not be—-
“My cooperation comes with a price.”
Curse the man, but it was exactly what she feared.
“How low can you get?” she hissed in outrage.
“As low as you need me to,” Tarif answered idly, “but in my experience, eye-level with a woman’s pussy usually does the trick.”
That did it!
