Page 1 of The Sheik's Kiss

Prologue

“Your Highness, you need to see this!”

Zahir sighed heavily and raised weary eyes from his desk, his fatigue-stricken face reflecting the overwhelming weight of his responsibilities. He glanced at the time. He hadn’t had any sleep for the past…it took his exhausted mind a moment to calculate…thirty-six hours.

For a moment, Zahir considered telling his aide to hold off on whatever new bit of information was waiting for his attention. But the expression in the younger man’s face warned him that this wasn’t something that could be ignored. His loyal aide stood beside his desk, bearing a sleek tablet that promised both a momentary respite and a potentially irritating revelation.

Despite his fatigue, Zahir’s curiosity piqued. He couldn't help but inquire, his voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and curiosity, "What is it?"

He recalled the countless nights disrupted by urgent matters and the relentless demands of his position. Zahir yearned for a few hours of sleep or…just a moment of solace, five minutes in which he didn’t need to make any decision. Five precious minutes where the world could fade away, granting him a moment of peace.

For a moment, his imagination flared, teasing him with infinite possibilities. What would he do with a spare five minutes? A woman with soft, brown hair and steady, intelligent eyes popped into his mind. But Zahir banished the lovely woman, reminding himself of his current obligations.

With a silent groan, Zahir resigned himself to dealing with the next issue. The tablet glimmered in his aide's hands, and Zahir knew that he wouldn’t be allowed those five minutes to himself. The weight of responsibility never eased up, never allowed him time to just…be.

Masri, his personal aide, moved swiftly around Zahir’s desk and gently tapped the surface of the tablet. “This was posted about twenty minutes ago, Your Highness.”

Zahir stared at the screen. It displayed an annoying, chaotic scene of blaring music accompanied by scantily clad women dancing under the flickering lights of a nightclub. Just as he was about to impatiently question his assistant's choice of content, a striking blonde woman stepped in front of the camera. Joining her were two captivating blonds who playfully draped their arms around his fiancée, laughing joyfully.

Zahir made an effort to conceal his surge of irritation upon seeing his soon-to-be wife. Even from a distance, the woman irritated him. What was it about her that triggered such intense annoyance? Objectively speaking, she was exquisitely beautiful. Her wide, blue eyes and luxurious blond hair embodied the perfect image of a future spouse. Nasiri Abrava, intelligent and well-connected, happened to be the daughter of his esteemed top general and had recently graduated from law school.

The woman ticked all of the boxes that he’d required in a wife. So, why was he dreading their wedding?

Nasiri had politely asked him to set the date several times. She’d even offered her body to him to tempt him into marrying sooner rather than at some distant, undetermined time.

“Bestie’s getting married!” one of the blonds called out, laughing into the camera.

He suspected that the women were seriously drunk, although the woman’s words weren’t slurred. However, there was a glossy look to each woman’s eyes, which confirmed his suspicions. Although, the glassy look could be caused by a chemical other than alcohol.

His lips compressed at the idea of his fiancée partaking in illegal substances. That was not going to impress him, he thought. He’d have to get her tested for drug use. Zahir was very aware of the impact illegal drugs had on a community. Not just on the person taking the drugs, but also on the violence that accompanied the importation and sale of the drugs.

However, it wasn’t his fiancée’s drug use that captured his attention. “I’m gonna be rich!” Nasiri declared, smirking into the camera. “I’m marrying the wealthiest man in the world and I’m gonna be so rich!” The three women laughed as if their friend’s exclamation was the funniest comment ever spoken.

Moments later, the three women moved towards the dance floor, laughing and enjoying the attention of the men surrounding them. Then his fiancée sauntered over to a group of men who were dancing together. She easily inserted herself in the midst of the writhing dancers, their bodies swaying to the obnoxious beat of the high-tech music.

As he watched, his fiancée stepped between two of the men, both of them sliding their hands over his fiancée’s slim figure.

One of the men even cupped Nasiri’s breast.

Zahir’s head tilted slightly at the image of his fiancée being fondled by two strangers. Now why didn’t that bother him?

“Enough,” Zahir snapped impatiently, irritated more by the fact that he wasn’t bothered by his fiancée’s betrayal even when faced with the actual evidence of her cheating.

Why wasn’t he jealous? Why didn’t he care that the woman he’d planned to spend his life with was letting another man fondle her? Or that she was more interested in his money than in…?

Okay, Nasiri’s interest in his money did bother him. He’d chosen her because her family already had a great deal of wealth. Nasiri was supposed to be a member of one of the leading families in the country. So, why was Nasiri so focused on marrying a wealthy man?

Perhaps all women vied for more resources to protect their offspring and ensure their future comforts?

A different woman’s face popped into his head. The image of soft, brown eyes and beautiful brown hair shifted his focus away from his mercenary fiancée. Mandy Sullivan. Levi Harris’ accountant was not a woman who would be interested in anything more than an accounting contract. Zahir had to admit that he admired the lovely brunette. She’d built up an impressive company in a very short period of time. Aided by her influential friends, no doubt. Still, she was an excellent businesswoman.

“What would you like to do?” Masri asked, tapping on the images still flitting over the tablet. The screen went black and Zahir sat back in his leather chair, steepling his hands together as he contemplated an idea.

“Send word to Nasiri that the engagement is off.” That was an obvious answer, he thought. But his mind was moving towards another idea. A more tempting idea. Would it work? Would she come?

Chapter 1

Mandy blinked at the man behind the counter. “I’m sorry?” she whispered, praying that she wasn’t drooling. Not that she’d be able to tell if saliva was dripping over her lower lip. After enduring a root canal earlier that afternoon and the associated numbness, she couldn’t feel anything, much less determine if she was drooling.

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