by Ella Brooke
Table of Contents
Sheikh’s Pregnant Love Slave
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
ANOTHER STORY YOU MAY ENJOY
Prince’s Temporary Baby
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Sheikh’s Pregnant Love Slave
By Ella Brooke & Jessica Brooke
All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2017 Ella Brooke, Jessica Brooke.
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Chapter One
Brenda McKann yawned as she opened up the curtains in Sheikh Jamsheed Rahal’s penthouse. Usually, her duties cleaning his London flat would start far earlier, but he threw a party in the ballroom of the high rise earlier, and she joined with the rest of the staff to handle that mess. While it technically wasn’t in her job description as merely Sheikh Jamsheed’s personal maid, Brenda still felt like she had a responsibility to help as best as she could. Whoever thought a foam party would be a great idea should have been drug out into the street and shot. That left her a few hours behind in her daily routine and a bit shocked with the dark surroundings.
Typically on business days, Jamsheed—no matter how hard he partied—was up with the sun and ready to start another morning managing his family’s oil business. Of course, the sheikh’s whereabouts shouldn’t matter to her beyond making sure she didn’t interrupt him with her cleaning. It didn’t matter how handsome he was, nor did the way he made her heart flutter even after months of working for him. Sheikh Jamsheed Rahal was her boss, and she had to remember that.
Even if sometimes she felt like he saved a special, sly smile just for her.
Sighing, Brenda arched her back and let her joints crack. She overtaxed herself already that morning and needed to remember that she wasn’t twenty anymore, when she could pull all-nighters and clean whole penthouses single-handedly and in a giant bound. At almost forty, she was feeling her own aches and pains, the results of almost two full decades in the cleaning industry. She was a maid and a damn good one, but she was one who might not be able to keep the strenuous workload up forever, even if Sheikh Rahal paid handsomely and his kind favor was currently putting her daughter through college.
Shaking her head and grabbing her bucket, Brenda pushed out both her worries about her future and her silly wishes about the sheikh out of her mind. She had a job to do and, while it was far from glamorous, there was an odd calm in her simple tasks. While most people would balk at scrubbing bathroom floors, the simple, repetitive motion allowed her to zone out and obtain a bit of peace, to let her constant thoughts rest as she applied pure muscle and effort. That would hit the spot; distract her from everything else.
Except when she walked into the sheikh’s bedroom at almost noon, Brenda had to choke back her immediate reaction, which would have been a quick curse. Before her in the king-sized bed and under the comforter lay not only the sheikh, but two other women—one blonde and one brunette, each of them a stark contrast in complexion and appearance from Brenda’s own pale skin and scarlet locks.
Damn it.
She shouldn’t even think about being in bed with the sheikh. She had no right to. Then Sheikh Rahal turned and his blanked slipped a bit further down his chest, exposing the ridges of his abs. Brenda licked her lips and tried to scurry as quickly as she could back out of the door. She would focus on the main living area and the guest rooms, which would keep her busy for an hour or so. If Sheikh Rahal wasn’t up by then, she’d merely come back. This was beyond inappropriate. Of course, with his reputation, Sheikh Rahal apparently lived for nothing but inappropriate moments; all the side effects of being a confirmed bachelor and playboy into his forties, a Middle Eastern George Clooney.
Brenda would have made it back out the door as silently as she snuck in if she hadn’t tripped over a stray high heel. One of the women had to have lost it in the commotion of the previous night. She dropped the bucket as her arms windmilled to keep her from falling backwards onto her butt. The action didn’t work and she landed hard on her ass, the jolt of pain going up her spine and into her back.
A sharp curse left her lips.
“Who is that?” Sheikh Rahal asked, his tone gruff as he sat up and pulled the comforter around him. Then his eyes settled on Brenda with the mop water sloshed on her uniform and the bucket dribbling out at her side. “Are you all right?”
She swallowed hard and forced herself to stare only at places that would be appropriate—and damn all the codes of conduct for servant and boss—which basically meant focusing on his eyes. Not that his eyes weren’t nice. They weren’t his abs, which were glorious, but they were a nice honey-wheat color that seemed to hypnotize Brenda whenever she stared too long at them.
Like now.
“I fell.” Grimacing, she tried not to let him notice how dumb she felt. “And I really just stated the obvious.”
Sheikh Rahal shook his head and got to his feet, the blanket falling from his body and she looked at the floor in an effort to avoid even more embarrassment and exposure. “Is the floor really that interesting, Brenda?”
“I can’t.”
“I slipped on boxers sometime this morning. You won’t get but so much of an eyeful, but I’m not ashamed of myself either way.”
“Uh, good, you probably shouldn’t be.” Her cheeks flushed and she was sure they were as red as her hair by this point. “Oh man, I shouldn’t say words.”
He chuckled and she looked up at him, slightly disappointed that he told the truth and now stood before her nearly naked save for his black silk boxers, ones that clung to his muscular thighs in a sinfully tight way.
“I think you’re doing all right.” He hurried over to her and helped her to her feet, which drew them close together. She could feel his warm breath on her cheeks, almost sense the scrape of his goatee on her forehead. “You’re sure you don’t need to see a doctor about the fall? I could have my personal physician here at a moment’s notice.”
His voice was a low rumble that made her stomach flare with warmth. All she had to do was lean up a little further and she could try and kiss him. Maybe he’d understand…
“Jamsheed, who is she?” the blonde asked, sitting up and unabashedly sharing her wares with the world. “I don’t want anyone else here.”
The brunette also rose in the bed, but at least she had one of Sheikh Rahal’s t-shirts on. “Exactly. Two is already sharing. I don’t want to split three ways.”
The sheikh looked back at the women and frowned. “She’s my maid; it’s nothing.”
Brenda pulled back instantly, as if she’d been scalded by hot water. “You’re right.”
His frown deepened as he looked toward her. “Brenda, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. Please, give me time to send the girls away, and I’ll call that doctor.”
Brenda straightened herself as best as she could, even if her uniform was clinging to her and her hair fell in wet clumps around her face. “It’s all right
… I have to go.”
She ran out before he could stop her.
***
“You don’t understand, Anne. I had the worst day imaginable. I can’t believe I walked in on Sheikh Rahal. It’s never happened before!”
Her friend, a fellow maid who still worked at The Double Tree a few blocks over, shook her head and sipped on her Cosmo. “That’s not the big deal. The thing that surprises me is that you’ve never ‘accidentally’ walked in on him before.” She shook her head, letting her long, dark hair fall over her shoulders. “I’d have at least tried that one before. I’ve seen him on telly and he’s brilliant. Fit and gorgeous.”
“I would never ‘accidentally’ do anything,” she defended, holding up her fingers into air quotes. “I don’t even like the way you said that.”
“Oh, so many women think about it!” Anne clamored. “I mean you work all those long days cleaning up for one of the most eligible billionaires on the planet. An oil sheikh? That’s so many peoples’ fantasy. I’d love to get to know Sheikh Rahal a lot better, if you catch my drift.” She winked back at Brenda. “Do you know what I mean?”
“Half the pub does,” Brenda said, letting out a groan. “Besides, there’s no point in thinking about it or reliving it. He made it perfectly clear where I stand, and none of it was good. I mean, I get it, it’s all some silly Cinderella thing. In real life there is no Maid in Manhattan and I’m not J-Lo in the least. You should have heard it ‘just my maid.’ I was dumb to even kind of hope there might be something.”
“Wait, ducks, are you saying you felt sparks?” Anne asked, narrowing her eyes before pouncing for the kill. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Because I’m a professional and I shove those thoughts aside and do my job. He pays way better than any hotel job I’ve ever had and one college tuition and one apartment in London aren’t cheap. It’s been what I’ve needed to help put Haley through American University. But, okay, maybe a little I did hope there was something there. Now I know that was the last thing on his mind. Perfect!”
She hiccuped and called the bartender over to refill her Guinness. After today’s humiliation, she was far from in the mood for something fruity and girly. She needed something with substance, and soon she might just turn to whiskey and go fully hog wild.
“I made a mess of everything.”
Anne patted her hand. “Oh, love, you fell and he helped you up. He’s the stupid git who didn’t send his girls for the night away before noon. He’s the one lazing about in bed when he knew your cleaning schedule to serve him better.”
“Ugh, don’t use the phrase ‘serve him’ with Sheikh Rahal. I get the wrong mental image, and that doesn’t help.”
“Exactly, he’s the one who should be sorry.”
Brenda sighed. “But I’m the one who had a stupid crush and should have known better. In fact—” She was about to finish her point when her cell rang. It was Yankee Doodle Dandy, a quick sign that it was Haley calling from back home in the States. Holding up her hand, Brenda excused herself from the conversation. Anne’s attention had already wandered to a businessman at the corner of the bar. “Hey, Haley, I was going to call a bit later.”
“Mom?” her daughter’s voice quavered on the other line. “I have to tell you something pretty bad.”
Brenda’s heart tensed. The one thing she feared most was that her daughter would face the same struggles Brenda had. While she loved Haley, Brenda wished she’d waited until she was older to have her. At age twenty, the surprise pregnancy had ended Brenda’s college career and put her into the maid lifestyle. Again, she’d never do anything different if it meant Haley couldn’t be a part of her life, but she’d talked a long time with Haley about making better choices.
This just can’t be happening.
“How far along are you?” she asked.
“What? Ew. No, that’s not my problem,” Haley chimed on the other end.
“Thank God...”
“I don’t know about that, Mom. You might not like the real problem. There was a car accident and everyone’s fine physically.”
Her heart sped up on the other line. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’s dumb. Last night I was coming home from the Alpha Omicron Beta mixer and maybe I was still tipsy—”
“Haley Jean! You know we’ve talked about that and about how you have to be responsible in order to stay in your sorority.”
“I know! But I hit this Bentley, some ambassador’s kid over by Georgetown, and they are suing us for a lot of money. Mom, I don’t know what to do.”
Chapter Two
Sheikh Jamsheed Rahal rubbed at his temples before the teleconference with his cousin, Abir, was about to start. This morning—okay, early afternoon—had been a complete disaster and cluster fuck, which was the only kind of ‘fuck’ he hated. The last thing he intended was to have Brenda march in on his romp with two of the girls from the party last night. It wasn’t that his maid was a naïve girl—far from it—but there was a huge difference between having her know about his nightly antics and accidentally rubbing her face in them. He had a strict system that always worked: enjoy the night as much as he wanted, but send the girls away by six a.m. and be ready to have Brenda clean his room by eight.
Frankly, he never would have overslept if he wasn’t anxious about his meeting with his cousin in the first place. He’d had far too much champagne at the party, and the hurt look in Brenda’s eyes was killing him—not to mention the feeling that he may have truly lost her. It was the punishment he got for taking comfort in the bottle.
He drummed his fingers on the oak of his desk and groaned when his screen flickered to life, indicating that Abir was on the other end.
The other man had a pinched expression to his broad features and something dark always seemed to be brimming in those grey eyes of his. Today was no exception.
“Ah, cousin, you’re calling almost half an hour late. Don’t you respect that I have more business to attend to than just your demands.” Abir said, stroking his long, black beard.
It was all an attempt to needle him. Yes, it was true that because of the disaster earlier today, Jamsheed was running behind on everything. However, there was no way he’d be drawn into a pissing contest with his cousin. All he had to do was nod, concede, and that would take the fight out of the other man, who seemed to live only to be contrary to others.
“I had an emergency come up, Cousin.”
Abir sneered. “Again, I have other work than that of Rahal Oil Subsidiaries.”
“You might have personal dealings, but you forget your place sometimes.” Frankly, Abir seemed to forget it all the time. “Father runs Zomelia, and soon so will I. You have a duty to the family line to help with the industry that keeps Zomelia a powerful player in the world petrol game. Your other desires are secondary.”
Abir shook his head. “So are yours. Do I at least get a name?”
“Huh?”
“A name for whatever blonde bimbo kept you too late to make our call. Surely she ended up being more important than honoring your commitments, Jamsheed.”
He gritted his teeth and tried to press forward with the meeting. “Now about British Petroleum; they’re looking to buy into the company for ten percent of total stock shares. I think this will help us get into the Western market.”
“I’d prefer an alliance with some of the oil holdings of the Sultan of Brunei, myself. He only wants eight percent, and you know how I feel about Westerners. At the end of the day, my cousin, you can never trust them.”
Jamsheed curled his hands into fists at his side. “And there is the xenophobia I know and loathe. We’ve been talking for two minutes, and you already want to reject a deal based on your irrational hate of anyone not of Muslim descent. You know how much I loathe when countries do the reverse to our people. How can you not see it’s the same thing?”
“Fine, I love Westerners. They and all their endless bombing are wonderful.” Abir said, rolling his e
yes. “Then I can say I hate the BP deal because I only want to give up eight percent at most and because they have a terrible safety records and multiple spills in the Gulf Coast of late. Use whatever reason you want. I hate the BP idea.”
“Father and I think…”
“Of course; pull rank then.”
“Well two-to-one is just democracy. It’s voting,” Jamsheed defended.
“You and Uncle always have a voice against me. Fine, send me more details in writing on the BP proposal. I want time to decide if their safety record will ruin our company’s reputation and take time to sell you further on the Sultan of Brunei. Is there anything else, master?” Abir rolled his eyes again even as he gave a mock bow.
“You could be more polite. I know you might not like this, but one day I will be the Sheikh of Zomelia and you have to respect that.”
Abir narrowed his eyes. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”
“Is that a threat?” Jamsheed asked, sitting up taller in his chair.
“No, but that doesn’t mean you have to assume everything is axiomatic either. There are a lot of rules for the succession to the throne, and you never know what might complicate them or…”
“…Or something more traitorous?” Jamsheed asked, his voice taking on an edge as hard as diamond.
Abir grinned and brought a hand to his chest in mock indignation. “Never, Cousin. I merely meant that nothing is for certain. For all we know, the world could be struck by a giant meteor tomorrow. That’s all I was trying to convey.”
“I bet. Fine, I’ll fax you the deal portfolio. Talk to you soon Abir.”
“Always, Jamsheed. Wish Uncle well.”
With that, the rat clicked off.
Jamsheed put his head back in his hands and kneaded at his temples. His headache was pounding in his skull now. Hardly surprising. Abir had that effect on him most days, and on a day where his life felt like it was in the toilet, Abir’s taunts were just more gasoline on the fire.
Sighing, he stood up and headed toward his shower. He hadn’t cleaned up since before the party, and he needed to destress. Once he entered his bathroom, he slipped off his suit and set it aside and then slipped into the shower.