One Night with a Seductive Sheikh: The Sheikh's Redemption / Falling for the Sheikh She Shouldn't / The Sheikh and the Surrogate Mum. Fiona McArthur
didn’t know if he was more relieved that she’d accepted, or that she’d made that stipulation. Seemed he, too, was still considering Haidar and his reactions in everything he did.
That was a reason unto itself to see Jalal to the throne.
She’d be saving a whole kingdom from having Haidar as king.
“How far are you willing to go for her?”
Haidar blinked, unable to turn his gaze from the second most magnificent sight he’d ever seen.
It was downright … magical. The undulating shore hugging pristine, placid aquamarine that in turn tugged at its unique red-gold edge in a tranquil, laced-in-delicate-froth dance. The bay that sent a tendril of land to almost touch the island teeming with palm trees just half a mile away. The canopy of crisp azure adorned in brushstrokes of incandescent white. Every wisp of breeze, every whiff of fragrance, every ray of light … breathtaking.
And he’d thought nothing could take his breath away anymore.
Seemed instead of becoming harder as he grew older, he was getting softer. A tiny, barefoot woman in a bathrobe had done just that last night. Taken it away, and held it at bay with her every move. And this place felt like an echo of …
“Her?”
He repeated the word as his eyes fell on his much smaller, middle-aged companion. He kept forgetting he was there.
The man, overdressed for the time and climate, beamed. “The estate. In the real estate business, everyone refers to it as ‘her.’ Comes from dozens of men going to lengths to acquire it that are normally reserved for bewitching and out-of-reach women.”
He could see how. He’d gone driving last night after he’d left Roxanne, and he’d registered nothing until he’d happened by this place.
He’d parked at the top of the dune that overlooked it, watched it transition through the grandeur of a starlit canvas to the glory of a majestic dawn to that of a sun-drenched morning. That he could appreciate any of it while he wrestled with his need to tear his way back to Roxanne proved this place was phenomenal indeed.
But as he’d sat there suffering, it had become clear to him.
He wanted her. And he would have her. Here.
He’d called Khaleel with his GPS coordinates, told him he would buy this place. In less than an hour the real estate agent had arrived, drooling at the prospect of a record-breaking deal.
They were standing at the ground-level terrace surveying the house that looked like a cross between a huge tent and a sail ship.
“… as you’ve seen, apart from the unique location and natural assets of this place, the house itself is a miracle of design. All bedrooms suites, sitting areas, upper and lower kitchens, formal and informal dining rooms have a sea view. Everything is arranged in an exquisite amalgam of Ottoman and Andalusian summer courtyard style, with waterways and gardens nestled within the interior—”
“As I have seen.” Haidar interrupted the slick Elwan Al-Shami’s sales pitch. He’d let him take him through the place, even though he’d already seen it as he’d waited for his arrival. The estate’s caretakers had fallen over themselves to show him around as soon as they’d recognized him. “Let’s close the deal.”
The man’s eyes brimmed with eagerness, yet Haidar could see he wasn’t ready to do so yet. He was programmed to keep driving a client’s acquisition need to fever pitch before he sprang the killing price. Even now that Haidar had made his efforts redundant, he couldn’t stop before his program had run through.
“When the owner heard it was you, he named a too-exorbitant figure. That’s why I asked how far you’re willing to go.”
Haidar swept his gaze around the place that answered any visions of heaven he’d ever had. “Shrewd man. He knows it would sell no matter how high he goes.”
“And he demands cash. That’s why those who bought it before fell behind in paying the installments of the huge loans they took, had to relinquish it to the indebting banks. The owner was always there to buy it back and make a profit.”
“He won’t be buying it back this time.”
“As long as you’re sure—”
“B’Ellahi ya rejjal. Name your price.”
The man blinked at Haidar’s growl. Then licking his lips nervously, he did.
Haidar whistled. No wonder many men had been broken by their desire to acquire this place.
Just as the man started to look worried, Haidar gestured to the distance. “Throw in those dunes and the land up to the road and you have a deal. Send me the contract and payment details. I want this finalized by tomorrow morning.”
Before the man could express his elation at this once-in-a-lifetime deal, Haidar waved goodbye and headed to his car.
As he drove away, he took one more turn around the area to soak in the sight of the place that would be his in hours. It already felt as if it had always belonged to him.
He could have gotten it at half the asking price.
But this haven of solace and seclusion was worth the expense. It hadn’t felt right to haggle for something he appreciated this much.
And then, he had to save bargaining powers for what lay ahead.
The war of reacquiring Roxanne.
Haidar’s body now officially hated “Cherie.”
If it sustained lasting damage from the blow of deprivation her sudden appearance had dealt it, it would remember her as his worst enemy.
Nothing was working to mitigate the gnawing need for Roxanne. Not even bringing himself to release twice while mentally reenacting their plummet into sensual delirium, this time to an explosive end.
He’d continue to ache until he slaked his hunger in her body. At least three times a day. For a month. To start.
He rested his forehead against the wet marble as he let the barrage of cold, needle-sharp water pelt his flesh, attempt to put out the inferno she’d relit inside him.
And to think he’d sought her out to prove that he’d blown her effect on him out of proportion. That he’d find the older edition of the woman who’d dealt him his life’s harshest humiliation and disillusion hard and off-putting. And that gaping hole in his psyche would be sealed once and for all.
Then he’d seen her. Talked to her. Dueled with her. Touched her. Fast-forward to his current agony.
Way to exorcise the memory of her, you idiot.
Instead, he’d only managed to resurrect it to full raging life. Worse. He’d managed to create a new breed of monster. An insatiable one that nothing would appease except total and repeated satisfaction of its every craving.
He had to give it everything it hungered for.
Not that she’d make it easy. Not that he’d want her to.
Sure, she’d melted at his touch, would have let him take everything he wanted, taken everything he gave. But he had no illusions. That surrender wouldn’t be repeated. For some reason, she was averse to letting him back into her bed. Perhaps the career woman she was wanted her men safe and convenient, when he was anything but. Or she feared indulging her lust would compromise her career. Whatever it was, the element of surprise had been expended. All he had now was post-almost-sex upheaval.
He had to strike again while the iron was white-hot.
He exited the shower cubicle, didn’t bother drying anything but his hands, strode across the hotel suite to his cell phone.
He