Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“I’m done now,” Anisah muttered. The sheikh turned to her, and even though she had given herself five full minutes to prepare for this, she realized right away it was not enough.
One look into his dark, glittering eyes, and she instantly remembered everything—-
The taste of his kiss, the sound of his mouth sucking on her breast, and oh, the feel of his thick, hard erection trying to push itself inside of her womanhood.
“Tory—-”
His desire-thickened voice had her biting back a cry at the way her body swelled in instant, absolute yearning.
Oh heavens, no.
Anisah yanked the door open and jumped out of the car, taking Tarif completely by surprise. What the fuck? Anger and reluctant admiration warred inside of the sheikh as he watched his sweet, defiant puritan hail a cab and slide into its backseat as she successfully made her escape.
Tarif ordered one of his security officers to tail Anisah’s cab and afterwards instructed his limousine driver to step on the gas. He wanted to get to his meeting as quickly as possible; the sooner he was done with it, the sooner he could be with Anisah again – and have the chance of throttling her beautiful neck for impulsively placing her life at risk.
Taking his phone out, the sheikh sent her a text message.
Tarif: Never endanger yourself like that again or you will not like the consequences.
Anisah: I only took a cab, Your Highness.
Tarif: Taking a cab does not protect you from kidnappers or terrorists.
Anisah: I’m not part of the royal family, sheikh.
Tarif: But you will be my woman sooner or later, so get used to acting like one.
Chapter Eight
Hyacinth bit her lip as she watched her older half-sister from the upper half of their bunk bed with increasing worry.
Firstly, Anisah was listening to Madonna.
Her sister was not a fan of the Queen of Pop. As far as Anisah was concerned, ‘express yourself’ should only be done with the right platform (i.e. anything and everything less than proper went to one’s diary and nowhere else).
Also, Anisah was taking loud slurps of her coffee.
Her sister did not believe in making any noise when eating or drinking unless one was in Japan (i.e. words are free so please use ‘thank you, it was delicious’ to show appreciation).
And thirdly, Anisah was hunched over her laptop while working.
Her sister had never been guilty of this (i.e. scoliosis wouldn’t be a disease if God had intended for humans to do away with proper posture – or so her sister liked to say).
When one considered all three – and the fact that they were happening at the same time – didn’t it mean her sister had gone mad?
Hyacinth covered her face with her accounting textbook while madly racking her mind for any possible reason behind her sister’s loss of sanity. Since Anisah had started acting oddly the moment she came back to their apartment, Hyacinth tried to go over what she knew of her sister’s schedule.
Anisah’s classes for the day were only until lunch, but she had come back much, much later.
Mm.
A quick Google search on her cellphone with the sheikh’s name had the latest photos popping up in seconds, and Anisah’s younger sister had an ‘aha’ moment when she found what she was looking for: a photo of the sheikh helping her sister inside a white-and-gold Land Cruiser.
I knew it, Hyacinth thought. In her entire life, there had only been two things that could make Anisah act out of sorts.
One was their father, whom they never spoke about.
Two was Sheikh Tarif Al-Atassi, whom they also never spoke about.
And since the first one was long dead, Hyacinth knew that her sister’s odd behavior most likely had to do with the latter.
For two weeks now, the palace had been quietly agog by the sparks that had been flying nonstop between Anisah and the sheikh. Even when the two were obviously pretending to ignore each other, the sizzling chemistry between them was undeniable. Every time Hyacinth found herself in the same room with the sheikh and her sister, the sexual tension was so blatantly palpable it honestly had her fanning her face.
Could the sheikh be why Anisah was now banging loudly on her keyboard, yet another unforgivable transgression that her sister had once preached against? Deciding it was time for an intervention, Hyacinth hurriedly climbed down the bunk ladder and cleared her throat as soon as her feet touched the floor.
“What is it?” Anisah asked as she reluctantly turned to Hyacinth.
One look at her sister’s strained expression, and Hyacinth knew she was right to interfere. Hopefully, the rest of her plan would also work well.
“I need to take a study break,” Hyacinth lied.
The trick to getting her overly protective and workaholic sister to relax was to pretend that she was the one under stress. This was Step One of the plan, and as Hyacinth predicted, Anisah automatically shut her laptop closed and pushed her chair back, saying, “Let’s go out then. What do you feel like doing?”