Barely catching her breath, she couldn’t help but smile. “He is absolutely gorgeous,” she whispered. “Every woman here is staring at him. You would be too if you weren’t so in love with Gary.”
Cel rolled her eyes. “I might be in love but I’m not blind. I checked him out when he walked in.” She returned Johari’s smile when she said, “I agree. He’s absolutely gorgeous.”
Johari leaned closer over the table. “So tell me, who is he? This is New York. Do you think he’s a movie star?”
“Possibly, although I don’t recall seeing him in any movie I’ve ever watched. I would remember, trust me,” Cel said, quickly glancing over at him. “And look how well dressed he is. All the way down to his Italian shoes. Hmm, I think he’s an international playboy.”
Johari couldn’t help but look over at the bar again. He was still staring at her as he sipped his drink. Although the man had an extremely handsome face, there was something about him that hinted at a degree of ruthlessness as well as a level of hardness and intolerance. There was a glint of danger that lurked in the depths of his eyes. What Johari found really unsettling was that she was drawn to him nonetheless. She found such aspects of his character intriguing and totally captivating, mainly because she believed he could also be gallant and charming if he chose to be. And as if to prove that particular point, he picked that moment to smile at her.
It was a slow, sexy smile that curved his lips and as his eyes bored into her, her body reacted in a way she couldn’t understand; a way she had never experienced before. Her heart began pounding against her ribs. Goose bumps were forming on her arms and she felt a definite stirring in her stomach. His gaze scanned over her body, analyzing every part of her. For some reason she felt he had a clear view of those regions that were fully clothed. It was as if her little short dress was invisible, and her body was totally naked to his eyes.
Johari thought Cel was right about him being a playboy. Lover of women. International jet-setter. Possibly a billionaire businessman. Thanks to her brother, she knew his type. There was something about him that reminded her of Jamal during his pre-Delaney days. She bet this man could have any woman he chose, wasn’t that easily impressed, and possessed the power to render any woman senseless.
Johari’s gaze was dragged away from the stranger’s when a waitress came to the table to refill her and Cel’s drinks. She glanced over at her friend to find Cel watching her. “What?”
A concerned frown marred Cel’s forehead. “I’m having second thoughts about flying out in the morning and leaving you here in New York alone.”
Johari smiled. Cel would be meeting Gary in Florida, where the two would be cruising to the Bahamas. “I’ll be fine and I promise to stay out of trouble.”
Cel tore her gaze from Johari to glance over at the man sitting at the bar. “Even with him?” she asked, returning her attention to Johari. “He’s still watching you and that can only mean one thing.”
Johari lifted a brow. “What?”
“He wants you.”
Something stirred within Johari at the thought. She stared at Cel. “He wants me?”
Cel nodded slowly “Yes, he wants you in his bed. I know that look, Jo.” Cel glanced back over her shoulder and then looked at Johari and said, “Yes, he definitely wants you. I can feel the heat.”
Johari didn’t want to admit that she could feel the heat, as well, and now that Cel had fully explained what his interest implied, she could actually feel blood gushing fast and furiously through her veins. Why? Why would the thought of being seduced by a stranger fill her mind with such naughty thoughts?
The answer was quick in coming. Mainly because she had been sheltered all her life. She had lived in a beautiful palace under heavy guard, with chaperones all around and a multitude of bodyguards. As the youngest daughter of King Ari Yasir she had been pampered, spoiled and allowed her indulgences. But she’d also been well protected, shielded and unexposed to certain things. She had attended private girls’ schools until the age of sixteen and then she had attended an all-female university in Dubai. At twenty-four she was still a virgin, an expectation by her family and the man she was to marry. Well, as far as she was concerned, the man she was to marry—with all his mistresses—didn’t deserve her virginity!
“What are you thinking about, Jo?”
She glanced over at Cel. “I was just thinking about how I’m expected to come to my future husband’s marriage bed as a virgin, yet possibly now even as we speak, he is somewhere in some woman’s arms since he is not governed by the same rules that I am. He can sleep with anyone he chooses before we marry…or even after we marry if he were inclined to do so, and he probably will. I will merely be a wife, someone to bear his children. He will treat me with a degree of respect that is due a wife but he will never love me.”
Cel shook her head. “That’s really sad. I couldn’t imagine marrying a man that I didn’t love or who didn’t love me.”
“It is my duty. It is expected.”
“Yes, and that’s where our cultures differ,” Cel said, taking a sip of her drink. “My duty to Gary, if that’s the word you want to use, is no different than his duty to me, and as far as expectation goes, I expect him to be as loyal to me as I will be to him.”
“And by loyal you mean to only sleep with you during the entire lifetime of your marriage?” Johari asked for clarification.
“Of course.” Cel then smiled and said, “But then as a woman and as his wife, I’m going to do everything in my power for him to have everything he needs at home so he wouldn’t think about straying. I will give him all the pleasure he will ever need.”
Johari pushed her hair behind her ear as she stared across the table at Cel. Her friend’s steady boyfriend of three years, Gary Akins, was a very handsome man and was a graduate of Harvard Law School. There was no doubt in Johari’s mind that Gary was as deeply in love with Celine as she was with him and expected a wedding in the very near future.
“So, do you think my future husband would appreciate a woman who is well trained in the art of pleasure more than a woman who knows nothing at all?” Johari decided to ask.
Cel shrugged. “I’m not sure, but a lot of guys swear that they prefer experienced women over virgins in their beds, but a man with such an important title as a sheikh might look at things differently. He may feel a sense of entitlement. The only sheikh I’ve ever met is your brother. Not only was he handsome but his presence seemed overpowering. I also happened to notice that whenever he would come to the school and visit you, he seemed aloof to other woman, and after seeing his wife I can understand why. She is beautiful, and for him to only have eyes for her leads me to believe that she keeps him happy in the bedroom.”
Johari couldn’t help but smile. She would be the first to admit Delaney’s presence in her brother’s life had certainly shaken things up a bit. But everyone in Tahran loved and respected her for that reason. Jamal was an exceedingly happy man and it showed even after almost eight years of marriage.
“I was wondering if I could join you ladies?” The speaker had a deep, masculine voice, filled with strength and sensuality, and his English was perfect.
Johari and Cel glanced up. The handsome stranger was no longer sitting across the room at the bar but was standing beside their table.
CHAPTER 2
There had not been any doubt in Rasheed’s mind that he would wed Johari Yasir, for better or for worse. But now that he was standing beside her chair and staring deep into the darkness of her eyes, there was no doubt in his mind, any time spent with her would be for the better. She was beautiful. Stunningly so.
From the confused look in her eyes, he could tell that she was mystified by the depths of their attraction to each other, which meant she was still very much an innocent at twenty-four. But then on the other hand, she had a willfulness, a wild streak that most women in his country wouldn’t think of exhibiting. The very thought that she had defied her parents’ wishes to return home, had tricked her bodyguard
and was sitting in a nightclub in the heart of Manhattan and without so much as a chaperone, and dressed in a way that invited male attention, was not acceptable.
When seconds ticked by, with neither woman responding to his request to join them, but just sat staring at him, he was beginning to wonder if they had heard his request when the African-American woman blinked and then said, “Yes, you may join us. My name is Celine, but everyone calls me Cel. And this is my friend—”
“Jo,” his fiancée quickly said. And he didn’t miss the subtle eye exchange between the two women.
“Nice to meet you, Jo and Cel. And I am Monty,” he said, following their lead and providing only his first name. He proceeded to take a seat at their table and then glanced between the two ladies. “Are you tourists or natives?” he asked.
“Tourists,” Cel said. “We’re in town taking in the sights and doing some shopping. What about you?”
His smile widened. It was evident that Celine had made herself the spokesperson for the two. “I’m in the city rather frequently so I have a town house here,” he said.
“You’re a businessman?”
That question had been asked by Johari. He glanced over at her to respond and the words got caught in his throat. There was a pure lushness in her lips, a sensual fullness that any man would take pleasure in arousing. Once a woman’s lips became aroused the rest of her soon followed suit. Not every man knew the true tricks of the tongue, but he did and wouldn’t hesitate to use those tricks to his advantage.
“Yes,” he said, forcing the word from between lips he would love to connect to hers, and the thought of her as the one he had been promised to marry and had every right to kiss sent a hot surge of desire through his entire body. “I’m a businessman.”
“So you’re familiar with all the exciting places?” Johari asked with enthusiasm in her voice.
He couldn’t help but chuckle. She was really hung up on having a great time. “Yes, Jo. In fact, I can take the two of you right now to a club known for its spectacular nightlife.”
Her beautiful eyes lifted with more than a tinge of excitement. “Really?”
“Yes. And if you’re interested, I have a private car outside that can take—”
“We’re interested, but we prefer getting there on our own,” Cel quickly cut in to say. “Just tell us where it is.”
Celine didn’t fully trust him, but he wasn’t bothered by it and thought it was a good thing she had her guard up. A part of him appreciated how protective she was on Johari’s behalf. “I can tell you where it is located. However, you won’t be able to get in without me. It’s a private club.”
Celine lifted a brow. “How private?”
He knew why she was asking, and again he appreciated her for doing so. “Nothing illegal. The people who are there prefer to be discreet and keep to themselves.”
Celine was staring at him and he could tell she still wasn’t convinced, so he said, “I tell you what. I’ll give you the address and the two of you can catch a cab. I’ll meet you there and make sure you’re admitted inside.”
He saw the looks being passed between the two women and said, “I understand if you’re hesitant about going and—”
“No, we’ll go,” Johari said. Cel, he saw, merely rolled her eyes in frustration.
He smiled. “Okay, and do you want to catch a cab or would you like to join me in my private car?”
“We’ll catch a cab,” Cel said quickly, not giving Johari the chance to even open her mouth.
“All right,” he responded. “It’s Club Chandler, located in the Trump International Hotel Towers.”
“Trump Towers?” Celine asked, in a voice that said she was truly impressed.
“Yes,” he said, pushing his chair back and standing. “I’ll meet you there.”
* * *
“Now I’m really having doubts about leaving you alone in New York,” Cel said once they were settled in a cab and on their way to the New York’s Upper West Side where Trump Towers was located. “If I hadn’t been with you tonight there’s no telling where you would be now. That man just said the key words and you were ready to take off.”
Johari rolled her eyes. “I didn’t bring you along to replace Saud, Cel. I would not have gone with Monty until I was sure he was not a bad person.”
Cel stared at her for a moment before asking, “And how were you going to determine that? He’s smooth and debonair, that’s for sure, and that chauffeur-driven limo confirms he’s got money. But still, I’m not all that certain how he got his wealth.”
“He told us that he’s a businessman,” Johari said, looking out the window at the brightly lit buildings they passed. New York was a beautiful city and she had chosen it because her friends at Harvard said it was the place to go to visit and have a great time. She only had two weeks and she wanted to enjoy each and every single day.
“But he conveniently didn’t say what type of business he was in. And he didn’t give us his last name.”
“Nor did we give him ours,” Johari reminded her friend.
Cel reached over and shook Johari’s shoulder to get her attention from looking out the window. “I’ve been living in his country a lot longer than you have, Jo, and I—”
“You are too suspicious of everyone.”
“I just want to be cautious,” Cel said.
“And I just want to have fun,” Johari implored.
Cel didn’t say anything for a moment, and then she opened her purse, pulled out her pair of designer sunglasses and slipped them over her eyes, smiled and said, “Okay, Cyndi Lauper, I get it. The girl just wants to have fun.”
At Johari’s confused look, Cel gave her a hug and said, “I’ll explain it to you later.”
* * *
“Thanks for taking care of this for me, Keith. And remember, tonight I am Monty to everyone.”
Rasheed clicked off his cell phone after talking to the manager of Club Chandler. He then punched in numbers to make another call. A few moments later a male voice came on the line. “Hello.”
“I have located your sister, Jamal.”
“Praise Allah. Where was she?”
“In New York City, but don’t ask me what she was doing when I found her,” Rasheed said, shaking his head, remembering. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
There was only a slight pause before Jamal responded. “I’ll let my parents know she’s been found. Thanks, Monty.”
Rasheed then proceeded to make several more phone calls. Fifteen minutes later he was placing his cell phone back in his jacket as his limo moved through the streets of New York, competing with the yellow cabs for the right of way. Unknown to Johari and Celine, one of his men was following their cab in case they decided to change their minds about meeting him at the club. Rasheed had no intention of letting his future wife go missing again.
Whenever Johari spoke, although she had fairly good English, she still carried a Mideastern accent. He liked the sound of her voice. There was something about it that made everything primitive within him respond to it.
When they had walked out of the club to hail their cab, he hadn’t missed noticing just how tall, stately and elegant Johari was. Without really trying she had somewhat of a refined air about her, a certain sophistication that was paired with a sensuality so gripping he still was at a loss as to why the magnitude of it affected him so much.
“All is well, Your Highness?”
Ishaq’s question interrupted his thoughts. Ishaq’s grandfather, Swalar, had served Rasheed as his valet since Rasheed’s thirteenth birthday. At the age of seventy, Swalar had retired and his grandson had taken his place almost four years ago. Just like his grandfather, Ishaq was loyal and was employed as both Rasheed’s valet and bodyguard.
“Yes, Ishaq, all is well. However, when you and I are in the company of Johari Yasir I want you to skip the Your Highness and refer to me only as Monty.”
“Yes, Your Highness. Will we be remaining in this country for
long?”
Rasheed leaned back against the leather cushions of the car seat and then said, “I’m not sure. I’ll have an idea of just how long after tonight.”
* * *
“Monty Madaris! It’s good seeing you again.”
“Thanks, Keith, and let me introduce my special guests.” Rasheed proceeded to introduce Johari and Celine as merely Jo and Cel.
He glanced around the huge private club. For a Wednesday night there was a huge crowd. Most were celebrities. There were also some wealthy businesspeople and notable creative types from the artistic community. But all were there only by special invitation. The media was not allowed, which afforded an even higher level of comfort and privacy.
“There’s a table over there with a beautiful view of the city at night,” he said, leading the way and acknowledging the many greetings he received while doing so.
“I can’t believe this place,” Celine said excitedly. “I could have sworn I saw Hugh Jackman sitting over there.”
Rasheed smiled. “Maybe you did. A number of celebrities are in town this week for the premier of Sterling Hamilton’s latest movie on Friday night. It appears some people decided to arrive early.”
Johari’s eyes widened. “The movie actor Sterling Hamilton?”
“Yes. He owns this club.”
“He does?” both women asked simultaneously, clearly stunned.
His smile widened. He wasn’t surprised Johari had heard of Sterling due to his international appeal. “Yes, it’s named after his daughter and is just one of the many business ventures he’s involved in,” he said.
Johari glanced around and when her gaze returned to his, she smiled and said, “The decor reminds me of a restaurant I once visited back home.”
He lifted a brow. “Back home? Are you not from the United States?” he asked. He figured providing that information had been a major slip on her part, one she realized too late.
He saw the nervous look exchanged between the two women before Johari answered. “No.”
“And what country are you from?” he asked, as if wanting to know was nothing more than mild curiosity.
Seduced by a Stranger Page 2