Desert Sheikh vs American Princess
Read Desert Sheikh vs American Princess Online
Authors: Teresa Morgan
For Ken.
You are awesome, and I'll keep saying it until you believe it.
T
*****
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One
"S
O
,
LET
ME
understand completely, Your Majesty." Noelle Oldrich concentrated on bobbing one open-toed Ferragamo bootie over the other, as if she wasn't on the edge of freaking out. "What is happening here is, in fact, a kidnapping."
If His Majesty Sheikh Walid Al Kalam, absolute ruler of the Kingdom of Askar, had any doubts about his course of action, his body language didn't betray them. He sat perfectly still behind the shiny black and silver desk that had nothing on it but a sleek PC with three huge screens.
He answered with tons of grace and no hesitation. "Miss Oldrich, it is best if you simply categorize this situation as an unexpected, but pleasant, extension to your vacation."
The sheikh's amber-ringed eyes slipped slightly downward from her face. Huh. Checking out the boobs, huh?
Of course she'd checked him out many, many times over the last week. His Majesty practically had a neon sign over his head inviting any hetero woman to check him out.
He looked a lot like an Arabic version of her celeb crush, David Beckham, but with silver streaking through his hair at either temple, which was absolutely a good look for him. But he had the same masculine features. Strong jaw. Manly cheekbones. His nose was a bit more...
distinctive
than Beckham's. All the better for looking down on the plebes, she imagined.
He had to be at least twelve years older than her twenty-five, she guessed. Despite the notable nose, that handsome face was dominated by those otherworldly gold-tinged eyes--supposedly a legacy of a mixed heritage. Mixed human and genie, that was. Legend had it that the rulers of Askar, Zallaq, and Sadad had the blood of a djinni running through their veins.
But more important than all those together... He had the best butt she'd ever seen. Of course she couldn't see it now, but she remembered. Oh yes, no straight woman would forget a butt like that.
It practically begged to be squeezed. Too bad squeezing it would have caused an international incident. Crap.
His three-piece suits were always buttoned right up to the collar. Expensive suits, too, but a couple of seasons old. Normally her guy friends who were rich wore the very latest. Walid could definitely afford a stylist to keep him up to date.
She'd never even seen him loosen his tie. And she really wanted to. Over the last week, he hadn't seemed attracted to her, but then again, with his distant "I'm above you" attitude toward everything, who could tell?
Would have been nice to know that he was attracted to her last week, when she, her dad, and her stepmom, had arrived in Askar on this business trip. You know,
before
the kidnapping.
Over the last few days, the sheikh had entertained the three of them in style. Apparently the sheikh's father had given her dad a big loan to build some a luxury hotel in Deira, Askar's capital city. The climate was great for it. Maybe a little warm, but it was a dry heat. Taxes were low, too. Done right, Deira could become the next Disney World for the very, very rich to spend all their money.
Except... giving Winston Oldrich a huge loan was a huge mistake. Her dad hadn't become a successful entrepreneur by doing mundane things like actually paying back loans. That was just crazy talk.
Her dad had always said he got a certain tingle hen he knew a business venture was going to succeed. No tingle for Deira's hotel, but he'd taken the money anyway, under a shell corporation, then closed down the business.
"An extension to my vacation," she repeated, cocking her head to the side as if considering the words. Making her blonde hair fall to the side, baring her neck and one dangling, glinting Cartier diamond earring. But the sheikh's gaze snapped back to her face.
She rolled her green eyes to the ceiling, which was painted a rich midnight blue, with gold stars. "A vacation where I get to stay in a palace."
He leapt to her bait. "All your needs will be provided for. Merely ask and what you wish will be given to you."
"And I won't have to do anything or talk to my family."
The sheikh frowned slightly at the comment, but agreed. "Nothing shall be required of you. Every luxury will be available."
"A vacation where I can just rest and zone out."
"Exactly," confirmed the sheikh.
"But more precisely," she insisted, "a kidnapping."
She watched him swallow a sigh. He found her exasperating? Good. "I assure you that I have taken every precaution to make your stay as pleasant as possible. You will not be held in the dungeon or chained to my side."
What she'd seen of the palace was beautiful, she had to admit. Postcard stuff. Taj Mahal stuff.
The Red Palace
, they called it. It sprawled like the word "sprawled" had been invented to describe it. Most of the buildings were actually white, but the five onion domes were tiled in scarlet that contrasted with the azure Askar sky. Four additional turrets climbed to the sky, but one of them practically reached heaven. More importantly for her right now, the wall around the place was no less than twenty feet tall. And thick. And a straight vertical climb. Probably built to keep medieval crusaders out.
Or one American heiress in.
"Well, if this isn't a kidnapping, I'm free to leave," she said, rising from the chair and smoothing her short, one-shouldered fish-scale sequin dress over her thighs. "I'll just go, then."
The sheikh didn't skip a beat. "That will not be permitted."
"You mean
you
won't permit it."
Avast, maties!
said a voice in her mind, but very far away.
Uh, where had that come from? What the hell? She gave her head a tiny shake, as if to rock that weird voice loose.
Hey
, returned the voice.
That hurt.
Oddly, it sounded like an eleven-year-old girl, and a little closer this time.
The sheikh narrowed his golden eyes in what seemed like genuine concern for her. "Are you well?"
"Fine." She did her best haughty heiress voice. "Now, about this
kidnapping
."
She saw the moment he gave in. Nothing changed on his face.
"If you insist, for the moment," he conceded. "But a
kidnapping
that will be comfortable and pleasant for you. I urge you to, as you Americans say, 'go with it.' No one will harm you here. You have nothing to fear. You will be treated as the honored guest that you are."
Yay for her. She'd won the argument about semantics. Except now that he'd admitted he was kidnapping her... well, he'd kidnapped her. His point of no return.
Big mistake. She could have kept to the pleasantries. Kept him off guard. Pretended not to notice the kidnapping. Earned his trust, then skipped out on him.
Oops.
"If I understand, my father owes you money."
The sheikh launched from his chair, startling her. With elegant strides, he rounded the modern desk that didn't quite jibe with the two-hundred-year-old furniture in most of the Red Palace. He came to a stop right in front of her, an arm's length away, looking down at her over his impressive nose.
He smelled like the breeze that blew over Deira, salty ocean and fresh desert mixed.
"A great deal of money, Miss Oldrich, which I cannot permit to go unpaid. It is a matter of honor."
"My name is Noelle." She didn't have any attachment to her father's name. Much like he had no attachment to her. The loan was fifty million, if she was remembering right. And the sheikh was trying to get it back? Best of luck to him. "So he owes you money from some loan your father gave him and hasn't paid you back. So you invited him, my stepmother, and me here so that you could hold me hostage until you get your money. I take it we're not going back to the excellent supper we were having before I excused myself."
When her dad had invited her to come along to Askar, she'd said no. She would have had an entire week away from her father and Angelique. No snide comments. No backhanded compliments. She could have stayed in San Fran with the few normal people who still hung out with her.
When she told Elise, her friend had freaked out. Before Noelle could say she'd turned down the invitation, Elise asked for a favor.
Go to Deira for me,
she'd asked.
Get some incredible jewelry. All I need is a reliable contact so I can import stock for my shop. Please? It'll be amazing. You have fantastic taste. I trust you.
The oddest thing had happened. She'd felt--or
thought
she felt--a specific tingle. Somehow, she'd known she could do it, could make that contact for Elise and the whole venture would be a huge success. She'd just felt the frisson of energy pass through her for a millisecond. At the time she'd been sure. Now? Maybe she'd imagined the whole thing.
She'd agreed. And had left out the part where she'd told her dad no so she could have a solo week of fun with her real friends. Elise's enthusiasm for her jewelry business was inspiring. That she wanted Noelle's help was incredible. She'd even made Noelle a copy of the legendary lost Palm of Askar as a present. The crown, which she'd reconstructed from old black-and-white photos, sat in her luggage now.
I really should have told Elise that everything I touch dies.
She swallowed back guilt at the thought of her business disasters.
"Your stepmother?" asked the sheikh. "She was introduced to me as your mother."
My dad likes to pretend my mom didn't exist
, she didn't say. "Why didn't you take Angelique, too?" Or instead. Preferably instead.
Taking Angelique, her French stepmother, definitely would have worked out better for His Majesty.
"A mistress can be replaced," he informed her. "A daughter, never."
Why her dad hadn't married Angelique was a good question. After all, they'd been together for twenty-five years. Since a month after Noelle had been born. A month after her mom had died.
A month. Not a long time to grieve a wife. And no one could miss the fact that Noelle had somehow ended up with a French name.
The sheikh reached toward her--and she froze in place, a vision of him pulling her to his hard body filling her head. But he didn't grab her. He grabbed her silver-beaded clutch right off her lap.
It was in his hand before she could react.
"Hey," she cried, jumping from her chair and lunging for the purse. He raised it above his head--far out of her reach. She grabbed for it even though some part of her recognized he would win this game of Keep Away. Even with three-inch heels on, she was nowhere near his height.
