by Nadia Aidan
He’d already been half in love with Daniella from the beginning, but her love for Sharjah alone would have easily had him falling for her with abandon. She was everything and more he’d desired in the woman who would claim his heart, but long ago believed he’d never find. She was perfect, in every way, and then she’d revealed her submissive nature. From that moment on, he’d known there would never be another woman for him, not ever.
Amir’s smile deepened. His feisty professor was turning out to be one very sexy and oh so compliant sub. He recalled their first time together in his office, and just the thought had his cock hardening within the confines of his trousers. She’d sucked his dick and at the moment he’d been ready to come, she’d pulled back at the final second allowing him to come all over her. Even now the image of her naked and on her knees before him drenched in his seed had him on the verge of spurting in his pants.
It had been the most erotic thing he’d ever seen or experienced, and he’d been so stunned by what had happened and what her actions had meant, he’d gone and ruined the moment by fumbling over his words. Amir was certain his brain cells had probably just been malfunctioning from the mind blowing orgasm she’d given him. It wasn’t until later that evening, long after she’d fallen asleep, and he’d sat there holding her in his arms while she’d slumbered in his bed, that the enormity of her actions had finally dawned upon him.
Daniella was in love with him too.
He doubted she even realized it; even now he was certain if he confronted her with his conclusions she would deny it, not because it wasn’t true but because she had yet to acknowledge it even to herself.
No matter whether she knew or not, accepted it or not, Amir knew it was true. Her body had given her away. It wasn’t just what she’d done with him, but also the level of trust and faith she’d placed in him every time they made love. Every time she submitted to him, she trusted him not to hurt her, to degrade her, and to always bring her pleasure, despite the pain or his roughness. There was only one explanation as to why Daniella would so freely give herself over to him, and the knowledge that she reciprocated his feelings was what drove him to abruptly cancel business trips and reschedule meetings so that he could be with her. He just needed more time with her to convince her to finally admit the truth, first to herself, and then to him.
As if on cue, the car came to a stop in his driveway, and he quickly eased himself out of the backseat. Daniella was working from home, his home today, and he was eager to see her, but as soon as he saw who was waiting for him on the curb and the anxious expression on the man’s face, he knew the happy reunion he’d been eagerly anticipating was not going to turn out quite as he’d hoped.
*****
My fingers pecked across the computer’s keyboard with as much finesse as a kindergartener learning how to type for the first time. With a heavy sigh, I decided to just pack it in. Besides, who was I kidding? With Amir gone, I just couldn’t concentrate. It was pathetic, really. It seemed as if every single second, the man dominated my thoughts, and being in his home didn’t help, but it wasn’t as if I’d managed to concentrate any better at my own villa or my office.
I closed the draft of the article I was working on and shut down the computer. I really needed to have this paper ready in a month so that I could present it at the annual Near East Antiquities and Archaeology Conference. It was shameful to admit it, given that I was a smart, logical scientist, and I prided myself on rational thought. I was also very independent, but there was no use denying it anymore—I wouldn’t be able to get much work done, not until Amir returned.
I reasoned it was because our affair was new, and still in the honeymoon phase, so everything was still exciting, or at least that’s what I kept telling myself, because the truth was humbling and scary, no, it was downright terrifying.
I was falling in love with Amir.
That knowledge alone caused a hard lump to stick in my throat, but if I was correct, and my calculations were accurate, I had a bigger issue to deal with than my growing feelings for the Sheikh, and truthfully, it was that looming matter which had captured most of my focus and concentration lately, more so than anything else.
The faint sound of someone clearing their throat drew my attention, and I glanced up to meet the sheepish gaze of Amir’s guard and personal assistant, Talib. His expression alone told me he’d been standing there for some time trying to get my attention. I liked Talib. He was a man of few words, but aged wisdom and a quiet dignity clung to him so strongly, that upon initially meeting him I’d found him somewhat intimidating. Very quickly, I’d realized he was by nature a serious man, but his spirit was gentle, as such he’d always been especially kind to me, so much so that Amir would sometimes tease me that I had a not so secret admirer.
“Dr. Hamilton,” he greeted with a polite nod. “Amir has not yet returned, but I wanted to inform you, his mother and god-sister have arrived and are interested in meeting you.”
My expression must have revealed the shock and terror which had me practically trembling in my seat. Amir’s mother? She wanted to meet me? Why?
Talib’s gaze upon me was serene as usual, but the look of pity in his eyes said it all. “I do apologize. They were not expected or else I would have warned you.”
Warned me?
I wanted to ask, did I need a warning? But I already knew. Ayesha al-Durhan, Eastern born, but Western educated and reared. If rumors were to be believed, she was a demanding perfectionist, who expected the best in all things, because she held herself to the highest standards, and would accept nothing less from anyone else. From a bitch to a tyrant, the epithets attached to Amir’s mother ranged from those of respect and admiration, to the more colorful, which could never be repeated in polite company.
Needless to say, had I known I was to meet the Sheikha, I would have been elegantly attired and perfectly coiffed. Instead, I was fresh faced, barefoot and clad in a short sleeved maxi dress, while my hair was strewn about my shoulders in a haphazard mess giving me the appearance that I’d just rolled out of bed. I glanced down at my feet. Well at least my toenails were freshly painted, and with a nice pink shade too, because that was about all I had going for me right now.
“When you are ready, I will announce your presence and make the introductions,” Talib stated, effectively reminding me that at that moment I was keeping the Sheikha of all of Sharjah waiting.
“I’m ready,” I replied, with what I hoped was a confident smile, but I had a feeling my show of bravado had fallen woefully short when I glimpsed the knowing look in Talib’s eyes.
By the time I entered the dining room where Amir received his guests I’d talked myself down off the ledge, and even chastised myself for my foolish anxiety. The Sheikha probably just wanted to meet the professor in charge of the extensive excavation project in her country. I would make small talk until Amir arrived, and then I would politely excuse myself. That was my plan, and it seemed like a perfectly sound one, or so I thought up until the moment the perfectly elegant Sheikha al-Durhan’s discerning gaze sized me up and she opened her mouth.
“So you are my son’s professor? The one he has convinced himself he is in love with?”
Like her son, she was direct, offering no greeting whatsoever. Her questions startled me, and it was impossible to keep my surprise at her bluntness from showing all over my face.
“Good afternoon, Sheikha al-Durhan, it is an honor to meet you.” I pretended as if I did not hear her questions, although I wasn’t so certain that was wise when her sharp eyes narrowed to tiny obsidian slits. “My name is Daniella Hamilton. Your son has been gracious enough to allow me access to the ruins of Dilmun which I’ve spent the past several weeks excavating.”
“Yes, I know who you are,” she said coolly. The Sheikha wasn’t outright rude, but neither did she overflow with enthusiasm either. She briefly shook my hand which I’d politely extended upon introducing myself, and it was only then that I noticed the young woman who stood several
feet behind her. “And this is Sabeen al-Mujaher. Come Sabeen,” the Sheikha gestured.
Ayesha al-Durhan, was a vision. I knew her to be almost sixty, and her beauty, poise and elegance would eclipse that of any woman in her presence, including me, especially me, but not what appeared to be her younger version. I recognized immediately the same ethereal, genteel grace of a proper bred and reared Eastern aristocrat. She was so stunning, I actually blinked. It was embarrassing actually, but I couldn’t help it. Sabeen was all dark, sensual exoticism, and she oozed blatant sex appeal from her dark, sultry eyes, shimmering copper skin, and lush, full lips.
I was practically entranced by the beauty before me, but I still managed a polite greeting, as I took the woman’s delicate hand in a brief handshake.
Her palm was cold, her lovely onyx eyes were equally so, and as she quickly assessed and then dismissed me, I was painfully aware that my awe was not returned. The silence that followed was brief, but awkward, as I tried to ignore Sabeen’s open hostility and the Sheikha’s aloofness.
“Dr. Hamilton, I would like for you to meet Sabeen. The al-Mujahers are longtime family friends, and Sabeen is my god-daughter, as well as my son’s fiancé.”
Fiancé? What the fu—
Oh clearly, I must have misheard, I was certain of it, but one glance at Sabeen’s smug, painfully beautiful face, told me I wasn’t losing my hearing after all. I stood there wide-eyed, frozen in place as if every muscle had seized, but what else could one do as their heart was breaking into a million pieces. That’s why I didn’t speak, because I just couldn’t, I could barely breathe with my heart aching, and thankfully I didn’t have to say a word, because Amir chose that moment to enter the room, and all of our gazes immediately snapped to him.
*****
Amir frowned at the first sight of the black Lincoln Town Car parked within the driveway to his estate.
His parents.
More specifically, his mother. His father respected his privacy and trusted Amir’s authority over Sharjah and would never have shown up to his home unannounced, but his mother? Ayesha al-Durhan believed no such boundaries existed for any of her sons, but especially her eldest son. More than thirty-six hours of labor she’d endured to bring her first born into the world, she was often heard recounting, and thus, that heroic act alone seemingly gave her a privilege that no others had, to interfere in his life.
As soon as his own town car came to a stop, the door was flung open by Khalil, whose anxious expression would have been indication enough that his nosy mother was present and actively meddling in his affairs.
“I know,” Amir said to Khalil’s scowling face as he climbed out of the car.
“I tried to stop them.”
Amir wanted to laugh in the face of his first cousin at the notion that he would be the one to somehow stop his aunt, who was a force of nature, when no one else could. But it was Khalil’s last word that captured all of his attention.
“Them?”
Once again, he knew his cousin all too well, and that look was worth more than a million words. With a curse, he spun away from Khalil and stalked to the front doors, wrenching them open with all the fury and fear that now drummed through his veins.
Khalil matched his hurried strides, but Amir was no longer even aware of his cousin’s presence beside him.
She wouldn’t.
The gnawing dread in his gut told him that indeed she would. A hundred questions flickered through his consciousness. How had she even known, being the foremost one?
Whenever he spoke with his mother of Daniella, of course he spoke highly of her because of the work she was doing, but he’d purposely guarded his innermost feelings because he knew if the Sheikha had any inkling he was in love with a Westerner, she would not hesitate to interfere.
Daniella.
Just thinking her name made his heart stutter.
She would never forgive him.
He should have told her the truth, he’d actually considered doing so, but how did he reveal he was engaged to marry some woman his parents had chosen for him when he was a child? How did he tell the only woman he’d ever loved, that he wanted to spend forever with her and had no plans of marrying Sabeen, when she still denied her feelings for him? He was certain she returned his feelings, but what if he was wrong? He craved Daniella so strongly, he could actually feel her in his blood, warming the dark corners and spaces inside himself that he’d never known existed until her. She made him feel things he’d never felt. She made him vulnerable, she made him fear. Even now as he drew closer to the sitting room where he knew he would find her, his hands trembled at the thought of losing her. It was that desperate need for her that had held him back from pressing her about her feelings for him, because if he was wrong, his heart would always belong to Daniella, but his pride was something he would forever keep.
Your pride will not keep you warm when she leaves you, his inner voice mocked. Anger welled inside of him, but all he could do was ball his fists because the target of his rage was himself. He should have told her, then bared his heart and risked her fury. He then could have used these past weeks to persuade her they were meant to be together, and persuade her he would have.
It seemed like a good idea now, because the alternative was far worse.
His mother wouldn’t hesitate in divulging all the details of his betrothal to see her wayward son married off to the woman she’d chosen. While Sabeen would gloat and delight in ensuring she was one step closer to becoming his wife; but it was Daniella who would suffer.
He swore he could feel the deep pain of betrayal and humiliation strumming through her, and he had not even entered the room or laid eyes upon her. That was how deep their connection ran.
With a deep, strained breath, he pushed open the doors to the room, his gaze seeking and finding her immediately.
The raw anguish in her eyes slammed into him so hard, several seconds actually passed before he could draw in air.
She knows.
Every instinct within him screamed at him to cross the room, drag her into his arms, and soothe the pain in her eyes, but her icy glare froze Amir where he stood.
“Danie—”
“Is it true? Are you engaged?”
That last word, said with such despair, compelled him forward. A kaleidoscope of emotions flickered across her face. He ignored her protests and the fury in her eyes as he seized her arms, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“I can explain—“
“Just tell me the truth. Are you engaged or not?”
“It’s more complicated than that. If you would just let me explain.” She shrugged against his grip. He could have easily held her to him, but he saw in her eyes that doing so would be a mistake, so he released her. His expression pleaded with her, even as she shook her head.
“There is nothing for you to explain. It is obvious that you’re engaged to be married, so there is nothing left for you to say. We’re done here.”
She turned to his mother and Sabeen. “Motasharefatun bema'refatek. Masā' al-khayr,” Daniella said with a curt nod
She was humiliated, he swore he even glimpsed a shimmer of tears in her beautiful golden brown eyes, and yet she’d politely excused herself as she addressed his guests in their native tongue. Always gracious, always polite, it was that very nature, her elegant, almost regal poise and serene composure that had captivated him, taunting him to unlock the scorching passion, simmering just beneath the surface. Yet at that moment he cursed that maddening way of hers, where she always seemed so unflappable, and then he just cursed period. Had he discovered she was engaged to another he’d have lost it completely, not so for Daniella, who appeared completely unfazed, as if their time together had been meaningless, as if he meant nothing to her.
What began as a single swear out of frustration, quickly turned into a heated string of profanity, in both English and Arabic, directed at no one but himself, but Daniella’s quiet ambivalence caused something to snap inside of him.
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His mother and Sabeen both gasped, and Daniella flinched, but she did not stop or even turn around as she stormed out of the room, ignoring the mocking insults he continued to hurl at her retreating back, even after she disappeared from sight.
“Stop it. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
Somehow Khalil’s stern reprimand pierced the haze of fury that had taken hold of him.
What had he done? The things he’d just said to her. Amir called Daniella’s name as he moved to follow her until Khalil blocked his path.
“Move.”
“So you can do what? Go after her? You basically just accused her of possessing an emotional capacity that falls somewhere on the spectrum between that of a lifeless statue and an automated robot and those are just the words I can actually repeat in front of my aunt.” Khalil settled a hand upon his shoulder. Amir despised the pity in his cousin’s gaze, even as he knew it was warranted. He’d fucked up, big time. “She’s not going to leave, she loves her work too much, but I’m going to go keep an eye on her just in case you’ve so thoroughly pissed her off that she decides not even an historical find she’s spent half of her career researching is enough to keep her here.”
Khalil tried to bring levity to the situation with humor, but it was lost on Amir. Realizing this, Khalil sobered.
The cousins who were as close as brothers exchanged a final glance and a curt nod, but no words were spoken because none were necessary. Amir didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until Khalil disappeared from sight. His cousin knew he loved her, and he would watch over her, make sure she didn’t leave before he had a chance to speak with her. If Amir was lucky, Khalil would be able to plead his case. He would have laughed at such a notion, that anyone could make Daniella see reason when she was determined to remain stubborn, but Amir found nothing amusing about his current predicament.