by Mel Teshco
Another concealed panel opened, and a flat screen flickered to life. Andre, looking as gorgeous as she remembered in an open necked black shirt, flashed an illegally sexy smile her way.
“I apologize for not picking you up myself.” His sinfully smoky voice wrapped around her, calming her irrational fears. Honestly, what was she thinking? This wasn’t some melodramatic movie. She wasn’t going to be locked in a dank dungeon and have her nails ripped out by pliers until she betrayed May’s trust. She tugged the black shawl she’d draped over her shoulders across her breasts and leaned closer to the screen.
“That’s okay.” Her voice was breathless. She hoped he hadn’t noticed. She didn’t want him to think she was a complete novice when it came to sex. Because there was no doubt that tonight Andre had more on his mind than simply enjoying a dinner date with her.
“Then I shall see you soon. Enjoy the journey, Sanura.”
The screen went black. She picked up the flute and took a sip. Fine champagne tickled her nose and she glanced at the chauffeur beyond the smoky privacy glass.
Clearly he had popped a bottle of champagne and poured her a glass before knocking on the front door. It was certainly nothing like the handful of dates she’d gone on in the past, which consisted of movies and pizza and a fumbled kiss at the end of the night.
The end of this night filled her mind with erotic promise and her stomach fluttered with anticipation and nerves.
Tonight was going to be everything she had ever dreamed.
*
The limo cruised along the London streets and Sanura peered through the window as they passed Buckingham Palace. Where on earth was Andre taking her tonight? And why hadn’t she thought to ask him?
Of course, she might have if she’d thought of asking for his phone number. But just as she leaned forward to tap on the glass and ask the chauffeur where they were going, he pulled up outside one of the grandest hotels in Mayfair.
A liveried doorman opened her door as though she was royalty. Self-consciously Sanura stepped out of the car and onto an autumn-gold carpet, gripping her shawl for moral support. She glanced up at the impressive sign above the hotel’s canopied forecourt. Le Sauveterre. She had sometimes daydreamed of being wealthy enough to stay overnight here. She had never quite imagined getting the red-carpet treatment, though.
The doorman gave a small formal bow. “Mademoiselle Sanura, this way if you please.”
She bit her lip so she wouldn’t giggle with nerves and followed him into the hotel. Marble columns soared to the breathtaking frescoed ceiling and a sweeping staircase with intricately worked wrought iron balusters led to an impressive mezzanine.
Chandeliers glittered overhead, and elegant Louis XV chairs were grouped in intimate settings. Everything oozed wealth and privilege, from the heavy gilt framed oil paintings on the walls to the polished marble floors. For a moment uncertainty paralyzed her. What was she doing here? This wasn’t her world. She was an interloper in a borrowed dress, and surely everyone knew it.
And then Andre appeared and she forgot about the beautiful people who glided through this opulence with barely a second glance at the priceless decor. Because Andre only had eyes for her, and his hypnotic smile told her that, for tonight at least, she fitted into this world perfectly.
*
Khalid couldn’t tear his gaze from Sanura. Her dark hair, with an intriguing hint of copper highlighting her long tresses, was unbound, and beneath the black shawl her dress was a splash of vibrant flame. She stood in the center of the foyer, looking regal and serene, apparently unaware of the admiring male glances arrowed her way, and an unprecedented wave of possessiveness rolled through him.
She was his.
The thought was so powerful it stopped him in his tracks, mere inches from where Sanura stood. Of course when she was his wife no other man would dare to look at her with lust in his eyes, let alone touch her. But it was a shock to realize he wasn’t thinking of royal protocol or etiquette or the accepted traditions of his forefathers.
He was thinking purely of himself.
“Sanura.” He took her hand and her fingers clasped his in a touch so light it shouldn’t have affected him at all. Yet it did, as profoundly as if she had stroked his cock instead.
“Andre.” She smiled up at him, a look of warmth and joy illuminating her face. For a moment he merely stared at her. He had known plenty of women who had tried all sorts of tricks to snare his interest for longer than a fleeting moment of pleasure. He prided himself on knowing when a woman attempted to deceive him with pretty words and fluttering eyelashes.
But unlike earlier when Sanura’s entire body language had screamed deception and she’d stuttered and blushed when she told him her name, there was no hint of subterfuge now.
Was it possible she still had no idea who he was, even though he had brought her to one of the hotels he had inherited from his mother’s family? Had she been told nothing of her future husband?
He had hoped by now she would have an inkling of who he truly was. But it appeared she was still oblivious. The prospect of revealing his identity and risk her fleeing before an avid audience was unappealing, to say the least.
There was plenty of time for her to learn who he was. They had all night. And by morning Sanura would be his.
Chapter Four
Khalid took her arm and led her toward his private elevator where his bodyguard waited. “You look stunning tonight, Sanura.”
“Without paint on my face you mean?”
He laughed and ushered her into the elevator, before giving his bodyguard a subtle nod. He didn’t want any interruptions this night. He pressed the solitary button that would take them directly into his penthouse suite.
“You looked breathtaking this afternoon. Forgive my oversight in not telling you that.”
“You look pretty breathtaking yourself.”
Enchanted, he smiled down at her. Since he had turned eighteen and the weight of his responsibilities had been irrevocably thrust upon him, he’d given little thought to the personality of his future bride. She was merely the means by which his line would survive into another generation.
But Sanura possessed more than a desirable body and beautiful face. He would enjoy spending time with her, and not from a sense of duty. She had spirit, but she was also malleable. Her unquestioning obedience in agreeing to this rendezvous tonight attested to that.
She would make the perfect wife.
The elevator door glided open. Sanura glanced around the grand hall as nerves fluttered low in her stomach. There was only one door. She’d guessed Andre was taking her to his room, but it looked as though this was a suite. But a suite that took up the entire floor?
“I thought we could dine privately tonight,” he said, as he swiped his keycard and the door to his suite opened. “So we can get to know each other without interruption.”
She entered ahead of him. A palatial drawing room, with ornate gilded cornicing and soaring floor to ceiling French doors that led, presumably, to a balcony, met her startled gaze. She knew Le Sauveterre was the epitome in luxury but this suite would not look out of place in a Sultan’s palace.
“It’s beautiful.” She wasn’t sure beautiful was the right word. Overwhelming sprang to mind, but that didn’t sound very complimentary.
“The décor hasn’t changed since my grandfather’s time.” Andre moved behind her and slid the shawl from her shoulders, his fingers lingering on her bare flesh for a few scintillating seconds. His touch was a delicious distraction, but his comment gnawed into her mind. She turned to face him.
“Your grandfather? What do you mean?” When she’d walked through the door she had imagined this suite belonged to Khalid Salah al Din. But she didn’t want to mention Khalid to Andre. She didn’t want to think of Khalid at all, because that reminded her of the reason why May had fled. And she didn’t want any reminders of the archaic why Andre had appeared in her life. She just wanted to enjoy this fantastical time with h
im—a man who had walked straight out of her secret fantasies.
“This was his London home.” Andre draped her shawl over the back of an elegant armchair. “I stay here whenever I’m in London on business.”
It didn’t sound as though Andre was in the employ of Khalid at all. Perhaps they were friends, and Andre had been doing Khalid a favor by collecting May.
Maybe that limo really was Andre’s.
So many questions raced around her head, but she could voice none of them. Because once she opened that door the chances were high Andre would ask her outright where May was. And she wasn’t sure she would be able to lie convincingly to him.
“You keep this suite on retainer?” She couldn’t even imagine how much that would cost.
Andre gave her an odd look, almost as though he wondered if she was joking. “Something like that,” he said at last. “It’s been in my mother’s family for generations.”
She took his proffered arm and they strolled toward an adjoining room. Butterflies cascaded through her and pooled low in her stomach. Was he taking her to bed already?
“So you went into the family business.” It was a fair guess. She just hoped his family business had nothing to do with Khalid.
“Yes.” His tone was dry and she glanced at him. But he merely gave her an enigmatic smile. “I hope you’re hungry, Sanura. My chefs have been creating all afternoon to tempt your palate.”
It wasn’t a bedroom. It was a dining room, with a black marble fireplace and a twelve-seater polished table set for two, and decorated with candelabras and fresh flowers. But that wasn’t all. At the head of the table stood an immaculately dressed butler.
Andre certainly knew how to impress a girl.
*
Khalid relaxed in his chair and watched Sanura taste the breathtaking concoction his chef had created for dessert. She hadn’t eaten much tonight, although she had been very appreciative of every exquisite course.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed an evening so much. She had told him of her art, and reinforced his commitment to provide her with her own magnificent studio in his palace. Unlike Qtara, where married women were forbidden to work, there were no such restrictions in Omana. His mother was still an active member on the Board of Directors for the hotels. Indeed, he couldn’t imagine his mother not pursuing her own career alongside her official duties.
Of course it would be unseemly for his wife to exhibit her work for commercial purposes but a private display was more than acceptable. Idly he wondered what exactly she did paint. Still life, perhaps?
“Do you have any brothers or sisters, Andre?”
He pulled his attention back to the present. “Two half brothers, and I’m the foreign half-blood.” He gave a sardonic smile. It was one thing he and his bride had in common. Their foreign blood.
Instead of recognition dawning in her eyes at the belated realization of who he really was, confusion flickered over her face. He supposed it did sound strange to someone not used to their customs, but she was well aware of the tradition of taking second wives. Her own father had taken another after his Australian wife failed to provide a second son.
“It can be hard to be… different when you’re young.” There was a pensive note in her voice and an odd pain stirred deep in his chest. He knew things were difficult between Sanura’s mother and El Habib. It probably had a lot to do with Sanura trying to escape her arranged marriage.
But he would never treat his wife with such disrespect. And after witnessing the strained relationship between his brothers’ royal mother and his own common-born mother, he had long ago vowed to never repeat such a fraught familial environment. His mother had been the beloved of his father, but she had never quite forgiven him for making her his second wife and not his only wife as he had once promised her.
It was his right as Sheikh of his own province in Omana to take two wives if he desired. But Sanura would be his only consort. Tomorrow, when he had ensured she would never leave him, he would reassure her of that fact.
*
They had coffee in the drawing room. He watched her glance around at the ornate decoration as he sat next to her on one of the sofas. Her hair fell in soft waves to her waist and the need to slide his fingers through those silken locks obsessed him.
He took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. She turned and smiled at him, but he saw the hint of uncertainty in her eyes. She had shown no indication of wanting to leave but he could sense her apprehension.
Had she never stayed the night with a man before? Satisfaction speared through him at that thought, enhancing the lust that had thudded through his blood all night. He would ease her fears, show her pleasure such as she had never before imagined. And in the morning she would be only too eager to accept his ring.
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” He brushed his lips across her fingers and saw a blush stain her cheeks. He was enchanted. Not many women of his acquaintance could blush at so simple a compliment.
“You can thank my mother for that.” She wound a finger around one of her curls. “I inherited her looks.”
For a second her words distracted him from his purpose. He had never met her mother but was certain she didn’t possess the dark beauty of Sanura. Surely that came from her father’s heritage. Maybe she referred to her incredible ice-blue eyes.
He traced a finger along her warm cheek. Her skin was satiny soft. “Sanura.” He breathed her name, lingering on each syllable and her delectable lips parted in a spellbinding response. “Stay with me tonight.”
Chapter Five
Sanura gazed into Andre’s magical amber eyes as desire swirled between her thighs. She had half imagined he would seduce her out of her mind, until she was swept up in the pleasure of the moment and didn’t need to make any kind of decision. But he wasn’t.
He was giving her the choice.
A delicious shiver coursed through her body. He wanted to ensure this was what she wanted. That she would have no regrets in the morning. Her heart melted a little more at the thought.
“Yes.” Her throat was dry and she could barely speak, but yes was all she had to say. His smile stole what little of her breath remained, and he cradled her face in a strangely possessive manner.
“I’ve wanted to make love to you from the moment you opened the door to me.”
In a tiny sane corner of her mind she knew he was only spinning her a line that he had likely used a thousand times before. But she didn’t care. It was the first time he had said it to her. It was the first time anyone had said it to her.
She was enchanted. Ensnared in his sensual web. And it was the only place she wanted to be.
He leaned toward her. His cologne, a subtle blend of sandalwood and exotic spices, weaved into her senses. It was heady and intoxicating. When his lips met hers her eyes drifted shut. It was a gentle, chaste kiss. Yet it reached deep into her soul like no kiss had done before.
When he pulled back his breath was ragged, as though he was just as affected as her. The thought thrilled her. There was no doubt in her mind that Andre was vastly experienced, and to think she could arouse him so easily with a barely-there kiss was exhilarating.
He trailed one finger along the column of her throat and paused at the point where her pulse fluttered like a trapped butterfly. He scarcely touched her, and yet her whole body vibrated with electrified need.
Tentatively she stroked his strong jaw. His stubble grazed her fingers in an erotic caress. She knew she should say something witty or clever back to him, but her mind was a cloudy haze of desire. All she wanted was for him to kiss her again.
Perhaps she could kiss him instead.
Slowly she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. He groaned, a sound of reined in passion, and speared his fingers through her hair.
She gasped at the way he held her head so she couldn’t move. Not that she wanted to move. He took instant advantage of her unintentional invitation, and the
tip of his tongue penetrated her mouth.
She clutched onto his shirt and pulled him closer. His body heat scorched her, even through their clothes, and his tongue slid further inside her willing mouth.
No one had kissed her like this before. He explored and teased, then withdrew with leisurely torment. She imagined him doing the same with his cock inside her pussy and damp heat trickled from her core.
She had often imagined what her first time would be like. Her imagination had never been quite this vivid. And Andre had barely started.
“Don’t stop.” The words tore from her throat and she felt him smile against her lips. He knew what he was doing to her. And he was enjoying it.
“I have no intention of stopping. But I like to hear you beg.”
She laughed, the sound shocking her. Surely she wasn’t supposed to find foreplay amusing?
“I didn’t think you were a sadist.”
He tugged on her hair. Not enough to hurt, but enough to let her know she was within his power. “I’m many things. But I have no wish to hurt you, my princess.”
His endearment enchanted her. She wondered what he would think if she told him her mother had been the granddaughter of an exiled princess. Not that she would tell him. She never told anyone. Because being the ignored descendant of an obscure branch of the displaced Egyptian royal family didn’t mean anything.
“Don’t worry. You won’t.” But even as she said the words she knew they weren’t the truth. Andre would hurt her, and she wasn’t thinking of when he took her virginity.
It was because he had inadvertently stolen her heart.
“Whatever happens, I vow to cherish you from this night forward.” He was no longer smiling. He sounded deadly serious, and his irresistible accent only added to the potency of his words.
But they were only words. She knew that. But she couldn’t help wishing it was possible for them to have a future together. The thought of Andre cherishing her forever caused an ache in her heart, for something she knew could never be.