Pleasure, he said. Honor, he said. Well, he didn't look pleased and she didn't feel honored. Darkness hid behind the polite words. They meant the exact opposite of what he was actually saying.
"You can't have missed the fact that they never married," she pointed out. "Is that why you aren't inviting them to stay?"
He didn't look shocked at the information. "That has nothing to do with it. Your father and mother are returning to San Francisco."
"She is not my mother, either. Why is the honor"—she stressed the lie of a word—"of the invitation just for me and not them?"
He tapped a finger, cocked his head her direction. "Your father has tasks to execute in relation to this matter."
Oh, he was going to make her fight for every scrap of info. Did he think she wouldn't understand? She half expected him to tell her not to worry her pretty little head about it.
Just like her dad.
She stood. "I have tasks to execute, too. So I'll decline your gracious invitation and head back with them. Thank you for entertaining us on our week here. It's been great. Well, every part of it has been great, except for this part of it right now."
"This is not the sort of invitation you can refuse. Your belongings are being transported from your hotel as we speak."
Her stomach would have sunk, but some part of her had anticipated that news. The sheikh didn't screw around. He wouldn't have told her she was staying if he hadn't already made it happen.
She sat back down with all the dignity she could muster. "Which you can do because you're the absolute ruler here. You're just moving my stuff into your palace without my permission. I'll be staying here until my father executes these tasks you mention. And I won't really be allowed to leave until he does. Have I got that right?"
The sheikh raised a single finger in acknowledgement, regarding her with the lazy patience of the very rich, the very confident. Of a man who knew he could so whatever he liked at any time and not suffer any consequences. Ever. "Your summary of the situation is accurate."
"So, let me understand completely, Your Majesty." Mimicking his confidence, she bobbed one peach leather Ferragamo ankle boot over the other. "What is happening here is, in fact, a kidnapping."
Read more in Desert Sheikh vs American Princess. Coming August 2015!
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***Coming June 30, 2015***
After eighteen years as the old sheikh’s mistress, all Rania Santoro-Al Haifa wants is to break free, but the new sheikh, the hot and sensual—and much younger—Amin Al Nawaz has other plans for her…
Preorder Older Woman, Younger Sheikh today!
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More stories by Teresa Morgan
Cinderella and the Sheikh
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No Sleep For The Sheikh
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Handcuffed to the Sheikh
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Valentine Vegas Gigolo Sheikh
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Paranormal romances by Teresa Morgan, writing as Teresa Wilde
The Earl With The Dragon Tattoo
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Strange Academy
For teens, from Teresa Wilde
Puck Off! A Teen Fairy Tale
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Over my Dead Body: A Teen Urban Fantasy
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Confessions Of A Teenage Demon Magnet
About Teresa Morgan
Teresa Morgan is the author of Cinderella and the Sheikh, Handcuffed to the Sheikh, Sheikh with Benefits, Valentine Vegas Gigolo Sheikh, Older Woman, Younger Sheikh, Handcuffed to the Sheikh Too, and the anthology No Sleep For The Sheikh.
By day, she's a mild-mannered technical writer, but by night (and lunch hours, and weekends) she's a digital Scheherazade, weaving tales of sexy Sheikhs and the strong-willed heroines who love them.
Teresa is fascinated by the Middle East and has been to Egypt, Syria, Turkey, and Morocco. Sometimes her adventures end up in her books.
"Sheikhs break all the rules," Teresa says. "Including 'i before e.' After three books, I still have to concentrate every time I spell it."
Teresa also writes paranormal romance and YA under the pen name Teresa Wilde. Her paranormal debut is Strange Academy, a hot, hilarious paranormal romance set at a school for budding superheroes. Check out her first teen urban fantasy, Over My Dead Body.
Email Teresa at [email protected].
Copyright © Teresa Wilde, 2014
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Handcuffed to the Sheikh, Too Page 21