Married for the Sheikh's Duty(13)

“You are different from any woman I have ever known, Amalia.”

If she had to hear that one more time, Amalia was going to scream. “So you keep reminding me, Sheikh. And the message has been noted, loud and clear. Now can we move on?”

“I will arrange for you to visit Aslam once we return to Sintar. On your word that you will not reveal anything of our agreement to him.”

Now it was her turn to be shocked. “Clever move, Sheikh. Dangle the carrot in front of the poor donkey. You’re only using that to keep me in line.”

“Now who has trust issues?”

The silence that descended was strained with so many things that Amalia looked away.

“Is it only me and what I provoke in you that has made you so combative, Amalia, or are you like that with all men, including your Massi?”

“He is not my Massi and I...they call me Calm in the Storm back at work. Did you know that?”

“I’d have just called you the storm. So it is me, then.”

Such asinine satisfaction drawled in his words that Amalia wanted to do something violent. Which would only confirm his arrogant theory. She was a little afraid to test it, too. “We got off to the wrong start, yes. Which is why I think it is time to call truce,” Amalia finished, admitting to herself that she had provoked him from the moment she had set eyes on him.

And to be brutally honest, he had behaved like a gentleman even though he had every reason to doubt her. Except the kiss. She still had no idea what that was about.

She stuck out her hand over the small table between them. “Since I’m not the type to hold a grudge, I’m waving a white flag... Zayn.”

His name on her lips reverberated through the entire craft, as if some invisible barrier had been smashed, leaving something else in the air around them.

Amalia met his gaze and saw the infinitesimal widening of those dark eyes, before he lowered them to look at her hand. Slowly, he made contact with her right hand.

A curious swooping sensation in her gut, she suddenly wished she hadn’t forced the issue. Only now when it was too late, did she realize that the sheikh and she being at each other’s throats covered up a lot of things she didn’t want to face.

Like her increasing attraction to him.

Suddenly, it felt like it was written all over her face and in the stilted silence between them. Just as she was about to stand up, he leaned forward in his seat, his legs bracketing hers on either side. “I do not know that I prefer my name on your lips, Amalia.”

“Exactly what I was thinking. I think I’ll stick to Sheikh.”

Confined to her seat by his large body, Amalia shivered. Her breath was a languorous fire in her throat, her pulse skittering madly as his finger traced the veins on her wrist.

She’d never been so afraid to look into a man’s eyes and see what they held, never been afraid of what was written in her own eyes.

He turned his laptop so that the screen was facing her. The software program she had claimed she was an expert on could have been written in Arabic for all she could make sense of it. “I will go through each of these and dictate notes about who should address it and the steps that need to be taken. Start typing.”

She looked up then, shock stealing her words.

He raised those dark brows, the hard mouth twitching at the sides. “Problems already?”

Pulling her watch and bracelets off, Amalia put them in a corner of the desk and straightened in her seat. Tugging the rubber band she’d been playing with through her fingers, she pushed back her hair and gathered it in one hand.

A hard glitter in his eyes, the way he followed her movements, sent a pulse of longing through Amalia. It was hard to be in the company of a compellingly attractive man like the sheikh and not feel a feminine flutter. To not imagine all sorts of romantic illusions even if one tried to be sensible.

Indulging in a moment of weakness didn’t mean she would pursue anything, Amalia told herself. Not that the sheikh wanted a personal anything with her. He barely trusted her, did he?

So Amalia clung to what did make sense. She opened a new Notes window and smiled at him. “I’m ready when you are, Sheikh.”





CHAPTER SIX

THREE... THERE WERE three small white pearl buttons on Amalia’s pink pantsuit and they were driving Zayn to distraction.

Every time she moved in her seat, which she did constantly, the thin blouse she wore under the deeply cut jacket stretched sinuously against her breasts.

It was the same every day, his awareness of her growing by the minute.

He fisted his hands by his sides, fighting the urge to fill his hands with something else. He had seen women wearing skimpily provocative clothes and still somehow look less sensual than the woman working away on his laptop, her brow tied in concentration.

Her long hair pulled into a high ponytail swung as her fingers raced over the keyboard.

The pantsuit was the height of designer chic, taking advantage of the long line of her legs. When she’d come aboard the jet, Zayn had felt a wave of startling awareness again. He’d heard reports from his senior aide and had chosen to avoid her, all the while telling himself that he was just too busy.

Now he knew why he had avoided her.

Ten days had not dimmed her appeal one bit.

From the buttons to the narrow collar to the silk that didn’t quite hug her curves, it was Amalia to a T—prim, buttoned up and yet utterly provocative.

He shouldn’t be surprised by anything this woman did and yet Zayn was. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect from her. What had she called the house? The perfect marriage of tradition and modernity?

Not even Mirah had seen his struggle reflected in his design. He, who prided himself on knowing himself and his mind, even he had missed it.

Her attire was the perfect blend of sophistication and the demureness that he sensed was an innate part of Amalia. That she’d managed to retain a sense of her own style and self under the obvious duress she felt at being his fiancée, at being thrust into the eye of the media from her average life, spoke to the strength of her personality.

By now, Zayn would have written off any other woman with such decidedly strong views. Yet, Amalia continued to persist in his mind and body.

Utterly covered up as every inch of her skin was, it still hadn’t stopped him from losing his focus more than once. Her skin gleamed with the tan she had acquired, no doubt trudging through the city streets of Sintar and harrying unsuspecting males into answering her questions about her twin.

Even now, all he could think of was unbuttoning those buttons slowly while he kissed every inch of the silky-smooth skin he exposed.

He’d always compartmentalized his private life and his public one. Which was why everyone including his father and Farid’s family had been so thoroughly shocked at some of the lurid stuff that Celebrity Spy! had said about him.

This had to be the same. Amalia was part of his public life, even though his reasons were personal. Ergo, he couldn’t indulge in fantasies about her.

“Okay, how does this sound?” she interrupted him, her brow thoughtful. And then rattled off the press release she had volunteered to put together about a donation he was making to the Sintar General Hospital.

“It’s perfect,” he said, a little jolted again at the quiet efficiency with which she finished her tasks. Apparently, the woman was just as good at her job as she had claimed. Could he believe her word that he could trust her? “We’ll break for lunch and start in a half hour again.”

“No, I want to finish this summary for why you’re denying the proposal for the Art and Education Center in downtown Sintar.”

With a shrug, Zayn leaned back in his seat. He checked his watch and realized that they had been at it for three hours without a break.

Once he had realized how supremely capable she was, there had been no point in not using her abilities.

And of course, Amalia being Amalia didn’t work in silence or peace. She offered opinions, sometimes in drastic opposite to his, and to their mutual shock, thoroughly agreeing with him on some foreign policy matter.

Piles of what he’d considered boring, menial tasks had been completed in a most engaging way, thanks to her efficiency and her interesting opinions.

True to her word, she hadn’t even blinked at the grueling pace he had set. For a woman who wasn’t aware of the intricacies of palace policy, she’d learned the administration’s priorities and his personal policies on some of the administrative matters superfast. But of course, he had forgotten that she was very learned about Khaleej and its history and politics.

He wasn’t fooled by her rejection of everything that was her father’s heritage. Her anger only hid some deep-rooted pain but Zayn had no need to know or understand what it stemmed from. Her issues with her father were of no interest to him except for how they affected the outcome he wanted.

Amazing as it was that it had come from her, she was right. They needed to call a truce, if he wanted to pull this off. But the truce did not have to extend to exchanging their every dream and fear. She had surprised him that day in his wing but he would not veer off course again.

Zayn had never been allowed a confidant before and he was too rigid in his ways to want one now.

He ordered lunch and drinks for both of them just as Amalia finished and looked up. The little knot in her brow and the way she met his gaze head-on, he knew she was going to disagree with him again.