Sheikh's Scandal. Lucy Monroe
daughter traditional.
Hena had simply wanted to give Liyah as many connections to the country of her mother’s birth as she could. Hena had also said she’d wanted to speak hope for her daughter’s life every time she used her name, which meant high exalted one.
It was another example of the deceased woman’s more romantic nature than that of her pragmatic daughter.
Liyah doubted very much if Gene Chatsfield had anything to do with naming her at all.
“Your accent is American,” Sayed observed.
“So is yours.”
He shrugged. “I was educated in America from the age of thirteen. I did not return to Zeena Sahra to live until I finished graduate school.”
She knew that. His older brother’s tragic death in a bomb meant for the melech had changed the course of Sayed’s life and his country’s future.
Further political unrest in surrounding countries and concerns for their only remaining son’s safety had pushed the melech and his queen to send Sayed to boarding school. It wasn’t exactly a state secret.
Nor was the fact that Sayed had opted to continue his education through a bachelor’s in world politics and a master’s in management, but having him offer the information made something strange flutter in Liyah’s belly.
Or maybe that was just his nearness.
The guest elevators at the Chatsfield were spacious by any definition, but the confined area felt small to Liyah.
“You’re not very western in your outlook,” she said, trying to ignore the unfamiliar desires and emotions roiling through her.
“I am the heart of Zeena Sahra. Should my people and their ways not be the center of mine?”
She didn’t like how much his answer touched her. To cover her reaction she waved her hand between the two of them and said, “This isn’t the way of Zeena Sahra.”
“You are so sure?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“So you have studied my country.” He sounded way too happy about that possibility.
“Don’t take it personally.”
He laughed, the honest sound of genuine amusement more compelling than even the uninterrupted regard of the extremely handsome man. “You are not like other women.”
“You’re the emir.”
“You are saying other women are awed by me.”
She gave him a wry look and said dryly, “You’re not conceited at all, are you?”
“Is it conceit to recognize the truth?”
She shook her head. Even arrogant, she found this man irresistible and had the terrible suspicion he knew it, too.
Unsure how she got there, she felt the wall of the elevator at her back. Sayed’s body was so close his outer robes brushed her. Her breath came out on a shocked gasp.
He brushed her lower lip with his fingertip. “Your mouth is luscious.”
“This is a bad idea.”
“Is it?” he asked, his head dipping toward hers.
“Yes.” Was this how it had begun with her mother and father? “I’m not part of amenities.”
No wonder Hena had spent so much effort warning Liyah against the seductions of men.
“I know.” His tone rang with sincerity.
“I don’t do elevator sex romps,” she clarified, just in case he didn’t get it.
Something flared in his dark gaze and Sayed stepped back, shaking his head. “I apologize, Miss Amari. I do not know what came over me.”
“I’m sure you’re used to women falling all over you,” she offered by way of an explanation.
He frowned. “Is that meant to be a sop to my ego or a slam against it?”
“Neither?”
He shook his head again, as if trying to clear it.
She wondered if it worked. She would be grateful for a technique that brought back her own usual way of thinking, unobscured by this unwelcome and unfamiliar desire.
She did not know what else he might have said or how she would have responded because the telephone inside the elevator car rang. She opened the panel the handset resided behind and answered it.
“Amari here.”
“Is the sheikh with you?” an unfamiliar voice demanded, and she wondered if Christos Giatrakos, the new CEO himself, had been called to deal with the highly unusual situation.
A shiver of apprehension skittered down her spine, until she realized that the tones had that quality that implied a certain age.
“Yes, the emir is here,” she forced out, realizing in kind of a shocked daze that she might well be speaking to her father for the first time.
“Put him on.”
“Yes, sir.”
She reached toward Sayed with the phone, the cord not quite long enough. “Mr. Chatsfield would like to speak with you.”
Sayed came closer and took the handset, careful not to touch her in the process.
She retreated to the other side of the elevator where she was forced to witness the one-sided conversation. Very little was actually said beyond the fact there was no problem and they would be arriving at the lobby level in a moment.
Even with her tendency to shut down, Liyah would have felt the need to explain herself, not so the emir of Zeena Sahra. If she had not witnessed his moment of shocked self-realization, she wouldn’t believe he was discomfited in the least by their situation.
True to his word, the elevator doors were opening on the lobby level seconds later. Both the emir’s personal bodyguard and Liyah’s father were waiting on their arrival.
The conspicuous absence of anyone else to witness their exit from the elevator said more than words would have what everyone thought had been happening in the stopped elevator.
Offended by assumptions about her character so far from reality, Liyah walked out with her head high, her expression giving nothing of her inner turmoil away.
Making no effort to set her boss’s mind at rest in regard to Liyah’s behavior, the emir barely acknowledged Gene Chatsfield before waving his bodyguard onto the elevator with an imperious “Come, Yusuf.”
“In my office,” her father said in frigid tones as the elevator doors swished to a close.
The following ten minutes were some of the most uncomfortable of Liyah’s life. Bad enough to be dressed down by the owner of the Chatsfield chain, but knowing the man was her father, as well, had intensified Liyah’s humiliation at the encounter.
The short duration of her time in the elevator with the sheikh and her obvious lack of being mussed had saved her from an even worse lecture. However, Liyah had been left in no doubt that she was never to ignore hotel policy of employees vacating the main elevators when guests entered again.
Definitely not the moment in which to make herself known to Gene Chatsfield as the daughter he’d never met.
* * *
Sayed woke from a very vivid dream, his sex engorged and his heart beating rapidly.
It was not surprising the dream had not been about his fiancée. He had known Tahira, the daughter of a neighboring sheikh, since their betrothal when she was a mere infant. He had been thirteen and on the brink of leaving for boarding school in the States.
His feelings toward her had not changed appreciably since then.