Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
The room is a rainbow of colorful, rich tapestries. Three women in dark garments appear to be waiting on a woman. Vibrant, purple silk encases her shape. The woman resembles Princess Jasmine from Aladdin, but there’s an internal hardness about her, something in her amber eyes. She is gorgeous with skin almost as brown as mine. We have the same petite frame. Her hair is in a loose braid down her back, and no veil covers her head. Could it mean she doesn’t follow the rules? Her tone is calm as she says, “I am Hadiyah.”
It takes Hadiyah a mere second to smile while assessing me. “Sheikh Al Rafi will be pleased. Undress.”
I shake my head no.
“What's the matter?” The warm aura evaporates at my lack of answer, and her gaze snaps to Ahmad. “Leave us!”
With his ever-calming voice, Ahmad replies, “I will be discrete.”
“You will leave,” she orders. “Only the sheikh’s permitted to see her disrobed.”
His jaw clenches. “I will be right outside.”
There is no response on Hadiyah's part because those mysterious eyes of hers are all over my body. She only looks away from me to ensure that one of her women has locked the door.
“That Ahmad, I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” She sighs as if we're all old friends. “Oh, I suppose he did just whisk you away from your home, Ms. Luxury. He probably didn’t even entice you with how good you will have it here. You belong to one of the most powerful and wealthy men in the world.”
She speaks happily of the sheikh. His riches. But I already belong to a rich and powerful man. And right now, I’d gladly take Victor as a blue-collar worker. Fuck it. I’d love every inch of Victor’s beer gut every night.
I continue to half listen. Somewhere, I left my friggen fight, and I’ve shifted into the little freckled girl who took what her bullies dished out.
It’s like I’m frozen. Reality hasn’t hit yet. And if I friggen pinch myself one good time, this will all just disappear, and I’ll be arguing with Victor like usual.
Telling him to use his words.
To open up more.
Perhaps encouraging more out of him about his son, Jude.
Still, I’m too afraid to pinch myself because only nightmares about Momma are this vivid.
The women pull my shirt over my hair, taking with it my dignity. I’m tugged out of my jeans, left only in an invisible coat of shame as my hands dart over my mound.
Another door opens, and Hadiyah escorts me into the en suite.
The tub is a large triangle that rests underground. It's full of bubbles and red rose petals. I start to get in. It’s deeper than I thought, and one of the ladies takes my hand. Emotionless, she helps me descend into the water, which is just the right temperature. Suds massage my body. Tears mix with the soapy water as the women clean and wash my hair. My mind drifts . . .
I lay against the headrest of the infinity tub as Victor massaged my scalp. I’d just been questioned by the detective who’d headed my mother’s murder case. The detective asked me questions about an incident at my flower shop, but I could only think of my mom, Gina, and her gruesome death.
As Victor catered to my needs, I felt so good. My satin skin soaked up the moisture as steam from the soapy water became a blanket surrounding me. An orgasmic sigh rolled off the tip of my tongue, prompting Victor to stop for a second. He took in my plush lips for a kiss.
Returning to his labor, Victor worked, moisturizing conditioner up from the nape of my neck. As I moaned, he paused to concentrate on that tiny little hook at the base of my head. Pure heaven. At that very moment, I voiced the words floating around in my head. “God, I love you, Victor.”
And I thought his lack of response was like a serrated knife to the heart.
“There is no reason for you to cry.” Hadiyah’s lips thin, along with her patience.
My hair is a coiled mass as I get out of the bath. I step toward the window and look down. The ground is so far away. I’d die from the shock of falling alone. But I’m not ready to give in. I place my hands protectively over my stomach.
I.
Will.
Survive.
2
Victor
The yellow and green ambulance flashes before my eyes as I take the road by storm. The first responders heading toward my estate swivel out of the way at the last moment. Bloody fuck! Slow down, Vic, or Burt will be of no use to you.
While my butler’s still at the scene, unable to move, he breathes shakily into the receiver.
“My jet’s readied?” I ask.
“Of course,” he measures out. “Just awaiting real analgesic—”