Sheikh's Scandal(16)

“So, neither of you were sexually attracted to each other?”

“It would appear not.”

“You didn’t think that was a problem?”

“Marriages among those in position are not made for the same reasons as in your world.”

“Elitist much?”

He shrugged. He would not deny it. “Our worlds are barely in the same solar system.”

“Wow. It’s really true, in vino veritas. Although that’s ouzo you’re drinking, not wine.”

“I assure you, I do not need spirits to tell the truth.”

“Are you really that arrogant?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Of course. Our worlds are too far apart for us to communicate.” Her voice was laced with unmistakable sarcasm.

His wasn’t when he said, “Right now, we’re in the same space.”

It was kind of amazing, really. That he would be alone in a place of privacy with this woman who was a maid, but whom he wanted more than he had any woman in his memory.

Her head tipped slightly and she looked up at him in unconscious sensuality. “We are, aren’t we?”

“It is a moment out of time.”

She laughed out loud. “Arrogant and cheesy. Why do I still want to kiss you?”

He did not understand what she found so amusing. This was a moment that would never be repeated, could never be repeated. Yet he was grateful that destiny had written their meeting—here in this room that would never see his ex-betrothed—into their stars.

“Why shouldn’t you want to kiss me?” he asked, certain he wanted it enough for both of them but aware that if she didn’t he would do nothing about his own desires.

That damnable honor again.

“You think you are too good for me.”

“No.” He was shocked. “I did not say this.”

“What about the whole different-worlds thing?” she asked, sounding hurt.

Which had never been his intention. “That is reality, not a judgment on either of our values as human beings. There are emirs in neighboring countries I would prefer never to have to interact with again.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“And me?”

“It would be my great delight to be able to spend more time with you,” he said with more honesty than he ever offered.

“But?”

“But an emir cannot have even a temporary relationship with a hotel maid. Life is not a fairy tale.” No matter how much he might wish otherwise.

“And you are certainly no Prince Charming.”

The fact she apparently found him lacking bothered him, but he did not understand why it should. “No, I have never pretended to be anything but a man.”

“Who is prince of his people.”

“Exactly.”

She looked at him strangely. “You really don’t mean to be arrogant, do you?”

“No.”

“You are, though. Just in case you ever wondered.”

He found himself laughing. “Duly noted.”

“You’re not offended.”

“Why should I be?”

“Because the opinion of a mere hotel maid doesn’t matter, does it?”


“Of course your viewpoint is important.” More important than he wanted to admit.

“You sound like a politician.”

“I am a politician.” Though not one that could be voted out of office.

Diplomacy was nevertheless very important in his life. He wasn’t being diplomatic with her, however. He meant his words. For reasons he could not identify, her opinion mattered.

“You’re very sexy for a politician.” She sounded surprised by that fact.

Or perhaps it was her own admission of it.

Unable to bank the hunger any longer, he leaned forward. “I am glad you think so.”

“You’re going to kiss me,” she whispered as his mouth was centimeters from hers.

He didn’t bother to give a verbal reply, but pressed his mouth to hers. At first, she acted like she didn’t know what to do, but then her lips softened and she let them mold to his.

And he understood her initial reticence. She’d said she didn’t do one-night stands; naturally, she would have reservations about what was about to happen between them.

With great reluctance, he pulled his lips from hers. “We cannot have more than one night,” he felt compelled to point out one last time.

He was still a man of honor, no matter how inconvenient.

* * *

Liyah had to process Sayed’s words and what they meant before she could reply. “I know.”

He’d made their short-term incompatibility perfectly clear. And she didn’t care. She’d spent her entire life listening to her mother preach against easy familiarity with men.

Liyah had not dated in high school and only rarely in college, but she’d never allowed anything beyond simple kisses. She’d maintained her virtue on behalf of Hena Amari, to prove something that was forever denied her.

Her daughter’s worthiness to be recognized by the Amari family.

She would never know that acceptance, but she was worthy to carry the Amari name. More worthy than those who would turn their back on Hena because her love for her child was too great to let Liyah go.