Unprofessional Bad Boys - Boxed Set (Contemporary Romance)

by Clarissa Wild

  I quickly pull my hand back because it feels too good to say no. But I should. I definitely should, considering I could go to jail for this. Also, he’s a fucking prince. A dozen girls are lined up outside, waiting for him to pick one of them.

  Why would he be interested in me?

  I’m probably just another one of his conquests. A girl he fucked, another one to add to his collection. Once was enough. I’m not willing to be a part of his ego trip.

  “Why?” I ask, holding my things close to me as if they’d provide any sort of protection against the seductiveness that embodies him. Just the way he presents himself, oozing with sex, makes my legs shake. But I can’t give in. Not again. Not now that I know who he really is.

  “Because I like you,” he says as I tread backward toward the door. “And I think you like me too.”

  Somehow, seemingly out of nowhere, the image of his huge dick flashes through my mind, and for a second there, I wonder how much more pleasure it could give me.

  I can’t think of this. Not now. Not again.

  I shake my head. “Just because I was interested at the club doesn’t mean I am now.”

  “Really?” he muses with a tempting half-smile. “I beg to differ. I saw you looking at me when I stepped out of the tub.”

  “There was hardly any other place to look,” I retort. “And you made it incredibly hard to look away with that entrance.”

  “Or maybe you’re just finding it really hard not to think about me …”

  I bump into the door, and he places his hands right beside me against the wood, trapping me inside.

  I’m stammering. “If I’d known at the club I was meeting you today, I wouldn’t have ever—”

  He places a finger on my lips. “I don’t believe that.”

  “It’s the truth,” I say through gritted teeth as if that makes it any bit more believable.

  He smirks. “Hmm …” Then he pulls away from the door.

  I can breathe again. But I’m not sure how I feel about that because it’s suddenly oddly empty around me.

  “You’re the first to say that,” he says.

  I snort. “Sounds like a lie. Girls are waiting in line for you. I saw them kiss you outside near your car.”

  “No, they’re standing in line for the prince,” he says, settling his direct gaze on me. “But you weren’t. You didn’t even know it was me.”

  I suck in a breath, unsure of what to say.

  I’m not sure what any of this means. This moment. Our meeting. The way everything went. And by God … the chances of it all happening.

  So I say the only thing that makes sense right now. My only sense of security in a foreign country where I know nothing of the people, the customs, or the dangers that come with having fucked the prince.

  “It was a one-time thing only,” I reply, opening the door.

  Right before I leave, he says, “Pity. I would’ve loved a second try.”

  But the door’s already closed behind me, and with it, my dignity has left the room as well.

  Why? Because I’m still thinking about how badly I wanted him to kiss and fuck me again too.

  Shit.

  Chapter 6

  Maya

  The royals have given me an actual workshop to create all my designs. I’m flabbergasted at how generous they are, but then again, nothing’s too extravagant when it comes to royals. I found that out the moment Amir told me professionally hired ladies wash him.

  Not that I could ever complain. This workshop is literally all I could ever ask for. My place back home isn’t this large. Plus, the closets are full of all the tools I need and more giant tables to work at, several mannequins, and different sewing machines. And best of all, I’ve got the place all to myself. It’s a literal dream come true.

  So I’ve spent the entire morning drawing out some designs, and now it’s time to go shopping for fabrics. I mean, they do have some lying around here, but I need more, and Mrs. Adallah said I could spend as much as I wanted. They even gave me a credit card to use, which made my creative soul want to squeal.

  When I’m done, I put all my sketches and pencils in my bag and go outside, locking the doors behind me. This damn heat makes me feel like I’m being bombarded by the sun, but after a while, I get used to the blistering heat. The city is bustling with people and vehicles, so it’s tough trying to get through the crowd, but it’s a rich experience nonetheless. It reminds me of New York; so much traffic in one place makes you feel like an ant.

  I go to the market where I find stalls selling all sorts of things. Food, jewelry, clothing, bags, dishware, anything. You name it, they have it. But I’m not looking for a bargain; I’m looking for quality material, and Mrs. Adallah told me about a certain shop where I could find the best fabrics to make clothes with, so I’m headed there.

  After a few locals point me in the right direction, I find it behind a few stalls. It’s an open store without doors and windows, but it does have a roof. The lady behind the counter is folding some colorful fabric that awakens my inner magpie.

  She follows my every movement as I search through the store, picking up various fabrics that I like. My hands can’t help but touch every single one because texture is everything. And as I traipse through the store, my eyes can’t help but catch some men arguing at a stall.

  But I stop in my tracks the moment I notice the familiar clothes … that I saw at the club the evening I met Amir.

  My eyes widen as I realize it’s really him.

  Again.

  And this time, he’s not wearing that white garment, but black pants and a dark blue shirt with a scarf around his mouth instead. Almost as though he’s trying to blend in with the crowd of people again.

  He grasps something from a lady and places it in the hands of the man. He scolds the woman, who seems to be crying, and then speaks to the manager again. They agree on something, and the man returns to business. After which, Amir turns his head back toward the woman, places his hand on her shoulder, and whispers into her ear.

  A smile appears on her face, and she nods. Then she scurries off, and Amir covers his face with the same scarf I saw before.

  That’s when he glances my way, and our eyes momentarily lock.

  Shocked, I grab the first thing I can find—a few long drapes of red fabric—and hide behind it.

  Nothing will hide my obvious blush the moment he rips it away from my hands.

  Shit.

  Why now? Why is he here? And why do we always run into each other?

  “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he mumbles with a lopsided grin.

  “Oh, brother …” I roll my eyes as I turn around and grab a random piece of cloth just so I can take my eyes off him and hide my embarrassment.

  “You mean prince?” he muses, placing his hand on the fabric I’m touching. “But if you prefer brother, I can get used to that.”

  “Okay …?” I say, making a weird face before trying to grasp something else and turn around again.

  Except he keeps following my every move, copying what I’m doing as if he’s making fun of me.

  “Why are you here again?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

  “Oh, I just happen to like going to the market.”

  “While pretending not to be a prince?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe.” His handsome smile follows, and it’s hard not to smile back.

  Goddamn him and his charms.

  “I just don’t like being followed.”

  “Right,” I reply, trying to cut things off, but he won’t let up.

  “Plus, staying at the palace is boring.”

  “Oh, do tell,” I say with a pinch of snark. I hope he won’t throw me in jail. Probably not, but I shouldn’t push my luck.

  “Hey, it’s not easy, you know. Being a prince.”

  Of course. Here we go.

  “Really? Because girls aren’t waiting in line for you? Because you have so much money and so little to spend it on?”

/>   “No, that’s not the point,” he says, frowning. “And I don’t have girls lining up for me.”

  “Sure about that? I just saw you whispering to another one back there,” I say, gawking at the stall where I saw him.

  “That lady was being harassed by the stall owner because she stole some jewelry,” he says with a sudden serious face. “All I did was give the man his necklace back and give her some money so she could buy food with it.”

  “Food?” I bite my lip. “But—”

  “Not everyone here has enough to get by,” he says. “I just wanted to help. So I told her she could come to the palace and ask for Mrs. Adallah so she wouldn’t have to resort to crime to pay for her food. That’s all.”

  Wow.

  That … just blew me away.

  I’m momentarily fazed. I don’t know what to do or what to say other than stare. I feel like an idiot. I misjudged him, and now I feel bad for doing it. Damn.

  “Oh … that’s really nice of you,” I reply, licking my lips, wishing I had something better to say.

  He shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

  I nod and continue picking up fabrics, trying not to make this any more uncomfortable than it already is. Maybe he really is a nice guy, deep down.

  “So what are you doing?” he asks after a while.

  “Buying fabric for the designs.”

  “Ooh, nice! See anything good yet?” He casually strolls behind me, not letting me out of his sight.

  “I’m trying,” I reply, hinting that I need to get to work.

  “What about this?” He holds up a blue one with white lines on it, which would look horrible with what I have in mind.

  I laugh. “God, no.”

  “Or this?” He holds up another one, this time a pure red one with tiny stars on it.

  He clearly enjoys picking the worst ones just to see my reaction. That or he’s really clueless about style. Either way, I’m not sure what he’s going for or why he’s even here.

  I stop in my tracks, and say, “Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to help me, but—”

  He’s suddenly right in front of me, waving a thin white fabric in front of my eyes that has bold black lines on it. “This one then.”

  I lower the fabric so I can look into his eyes. But I’m not prepared for the effect they have on me because it reminds me of when we kissed … and how we fucked almost immediately after that. Heat bubbles to the surface of my skin.

  “What do you think?” he asks, raising a brow in such an arrogant way that I can’t even look away.

  I smirk as I touch the fabric. It’s actually not even that bad. “You want this?”

  He licks his lips. “Oh, yes …”

  A shiver runs up and down my spine.

  Why do I get the sense he’s not talking about the fabric?

  He lowers it farther, and says, “There’s more that I want, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to ask.”

  I’m completely stunned. Flabbergasted. My whole face turns red.

  I immediately turn around and grab something else, something I don’t need, a ribbon, but anything is good right now because it means I can use it as an escape.

  “This will go perfect with that,” I mutter, snatching the fabric away from him and then walking away to another shelf.

  I don’t know what it is about him that makes me so panicky. Maybe it’s his looks, his gazes, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s a prince and I’m just a random girl from America trying to make her business work.

  And this guy … he’s jeopardizing it all, and for what?

  “Where are you going?” he asks.

  “Grabbing the things I need and then leaving.”

  “But we were just having fun.”

  I stop in my tracks right as he turns the corner toward me again. “I’m not here to play games.”

  “Who says I’m playing games? I’m dead serious,” he says, approaching me.

  He’s got me cornered between two shelves now. Shit.

  “I just want to talk.”

  “Why? What’s so important?” I ask.

  His tone is so smooth, it’s hard not to completely hone in on his lips. “Well, for starters, I wanna know why you’re doing your very best to avoid me.”

  I rub my lips together, trying to form a reply, but I have no clue what to say. I don’t want to admit that I feel something when I’m around him—whatever it is that I’m feeling—because it just can’t happen.

  “I’m not,” I lie.

  “Yeah, you are,” he says, coming even closer. He cocks his head and places a hand on the shelf just beside me. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “Me? Afraid?” I snort. “Why would I be afraid?” Could my voice sound any more fake? I doubt it.

  “Because of what I could do to you …” he says, his voice sultry. Almost addictive to listen to. Especially when he leans in to whisper, “And your body.”

  I hold my breath as I feel his breath near my ear.

  “I know you want me to. I saw you looking.” His lips almost touch my neck. I can’t breathe. “You wish you had been in that bath with me.”

  I push him back, and say, “Stop being such a player.”

  “Player?” He frowns, confused.

  “I’m not falling for your tricks again, dude,” I say, placing a finger on his chest. “I’m not that easy.” At least, not a second time.

  “I didn’t say you were,” he replies. “But I’m not giving up either.”

  “Why? You have plenty of other girls you can seduce. They’d all die for a chance to date the prince. Go ask them,” I say with a sigh, folding my arms. “I’m sure they’re dying to be with a prince.”

  “You keep saying that, but it’s not true.” He shakes his head. “They only want me because I’m a prince. I don’t want them. My father forces me to spend time with women, mostly the rich ones, but they’re boring. I don’t want any of that.” He grabs my hand. “I’d rather spend time with you.”

  I don’t know what to say or what to do. I’m frozen in place. And as he leans in again, I don’t back away even though his lips are so close to mine I can almost taste them.

  Suddenly, a blinding flash of light goes off in front of me.

  I blink a couple of times and block my face with my hands.

  There’s someone behind Amir.

  Another flash.

  “Fuck,” Amir hisses.

  By the time I realize what’s going on, Amir is already dragging me out of the store. “Run!”

  Chapter 7

  Amir

  Fuck. I didn’t think they’d find me, but apparently, they did. Fucking paparazzi. Always following me around. Guess I’ll need to find a different outfit to disguise my identity because this one obviously didn’t work.

  I drag her through the alleys, going as fast as possible to escape the photographer. I’m not sure he was alone, and I really don’t want to make a scene right now. Especially when she’s with me. And I’m sure they already caught a glimpse of something I didn’t want anyone to see.

  Fuck.

  I pull her along while she keeps asking questions. “Who was that? What’s happening? Where are we going? What about my fabrics?”

  “You can get them later,” I growl. “We have to hide.”

  We enter an alley and weave through some tiny streets until I finally reach the only place I know we can hide without anyone calling the media. A small home in the middle of the city tucked between two gigantic apartment buildings. I knock on the door but go inside immediately, not waiting for someone to open it.

  I already know I’m welcome anyway.

  “Sorry for the sudden visit,” I say as Saida gives me a surprising look. “Can we hide out here for a few?”

  “Amir! It’s been so long since I last saw you,” she says, smiling. “Of course, you can. C’mon in.” She beckons me to follow her to the back into the yard where I always played as a child. Oh, the me
mories of me and Faiz throwing mud at each other, playing catch, and falling into the pond. Those were good times.

  Saida places her hand on my back and guides us outside. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “Sure,” I say. “But don’t go through the trouble of making something fancy. We won’t stay long.” I don’t want to bother her more than I already have.

  “Oh, nonsense,” she says, waving it off as if it’s no big deal. “Stay as long as you like.”

  Her warmth brings a smile to my face. Time flies by so quickly.

  She goes back inside and into the kitchen while Miss Maya keeps tugging my arm.

  “Where are we?”

  I smile. “An old friend’s home. He’s … no longer here, but his mom and I know each other well. I supported her when things were rough.”

  “Ahh … Is he …?” she mumbles, afraid to finish her question.

  “He passed away,” I answer as I grab two foldable chairs and place them side by side in front of the plastic table.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” she replies, sucking on her bottom lip. “You two must’ve been close.”

  “Yeah. I used to come here a lot when I was little. Faiz and I were best buds. I hung out here whenever I was trying to hide from the paparazzi.”

  “Not much has changed then,” she muses.

  I love the smile that follows. It makes her shine.

  “Sorry about what happened back there in that shop,” I say, clearing my throat. “I didn’t mean to yank you away from there, but if we didn’t—”

  “They’d try to take more photos, and your face would be in the tabloids,” she interjects. “Got it.”

  “And yours,” I add. “I didn’t want to do that to you.”

  “Ah …” She nods, sitting down in the chair. “So that happens often?”

  “Comes with being a prince, I guess,” I say, sitting down too. “I do hate it, though.”

  “I can imagine. Do they ever leave you alone?”

  “No. Why do you think I wear this when I go out?” I pat my clothes and smile at her, which makes her laugh.

  “Maybe we should find you a better disguise next time. That fabric with the tiny stars on it would do the trick.” She snorts. “Not that I can design anything right now.”