Page 6 of Forbidden Passion

“I wouldn’t recommend striking Princess Ciara al Qadar, Myala,” he warned her with a softly lethal voice. His gaze turned hard as he stared down at her. “Behave yourself and I will speak to you when I return to Itim.”

He released her wrist with a deliberate flourish before turning away. A glance summoned two of his formidable guards, who promptly positioned themselves before the audacious woman. It took him several agonizing moments to quell the storm of anger boiling within him; the mere thought of someone hurting Ciara was enough to send him into a white-hot rage.

With a protective stance, he subtly shifted his body to shield her, guiding her into the safety of the elevator. The air hung heavy with tension, an unspoken promise that he would not tolerate any threat to the woman who, despite their tumultuous dynamics, stirred a fierce protectiveness within him.

“Thank you for that,” she whispered as she stepped into the elevator.

“She’s young and doesn’t know better,” he replied, inhaling to try and calm his fury.

Then, the recollection of his bewilderment over Ciara's previous reaction to his touch swept over him.

As they subtly maneuvered in the confines of the elevator, his gaze descended, fixating on her. The pulsating rhythm at the base of her neck, like a seductive melody, provided the key he sought. Ah, yes—she did want him too. His intuition had been spot-on all along!

“How is your fiancée?” he asked, jealousy seething within him at the reminder.

“My…?” she started, only to blink up at him with confusion.

“Zayed?” he reminded her.

“Oh!” she gasped, then looked straight ahead as her lips tightened. “Zayed and I are only betrothed. There’s an…understanding between us.”

"How long have you been...committed?" he inquired, the word carrying a sultry undertone. He grasped the technical difference between betrothal and engagement, but with her standing so close, her delicate fragrance enveloping him, his thoughts blurred into a haze of desire.

She huffed with a hint of exasperation but didn't pivot to face him. "In my world, a betrothal is like this informal understanding that two people will eventually take the plunge," she explained, her eyes lifting to the floor indicators. "It's this thing parents cook up for the couple, you know? On the other hand, an engagement happens when the involved parties agree on an actual date for the wedding. " She tightened her grip on her leather notebook, a subtle defensive move that only added to the charged atmosphere between them.

“I thought that a betrothal ceremony was legally binding.”

“Zayed and I never went through the betrothal ceremony.” She shrugged slightly, pointedly not looking at him, and he noticed her delicate profile.

Not that he hadn’t noticed it before now. He was just…taking note of it again.

And losing his mind, he thought. Damn, she was so beautiful! And so damn stubborn! Why was she pretending that there was nothing happening between them? Why did she rely so heavily on the protection of some stupid informal agreement that her parents had entered into with Zayed’s parents?

Yeah, he and Zayed were friends. But what would Falk do if Zayed actually married Ciara? How could he visit his friend, watch him touch Ciara? Kiss her?

He couldn’t think about any other man touching her. He knew that he didn’t have the right to touch her, but Falk couldn’t handle the thought of anyone else touching her either.

“What are you hungry for?” he asked as the doors to the penthouse opened before them.

Chapter 5

Ciara stepped out and paused, looking around. The penthouse was lovely, bright and clean with wide, open spaces and two long sofas that faced each other, allowing just the right amount of space for conversation without guests needing to raise their voices to be heard.

It was elegant, without being over the top. However, Ciara was too conscious of Falk’s presence beside her to truly relax even if she was finally away from the eyes of the conference attendees. She sighed at the missed possibility of an irresponsible amount of ice cream slathered in too much syrup and whipped cream.

“A salad would be fine,” she lied. Maybe she’d get her ice cream sundae tomorrow. “And a glass of wine?”

He turned, gazing thoughtfully at her for a long moment. “I don’t know about you, but after I have to speak in front of a large audience, I’m in the mood for something fatty and completely unhealthy. Like a steak and a twice baked potato.”

His words instantly sparked hope and she couldn’t suppress her response. “Ice cream?” she blurted, then wanted to bite her tongue when she saw his smile increase.

“Ice cream it is,” he agreed with a nod. He turned to his assistant, who nodded quickly. “I’ll have room service send that up immediately, Your Highness,” he said, then immediately disappeared.

“Your luggage was already brought up to one of the rooms,” he told her. “I think it’s in the room next to mine.”

Ciara clasped her hands in front of her, trying to hide her nervousness. “I don’t want to put you out.”

He chuckled as a butler appeared with a bottle of red wine, showing him the label for his approval. Falk nodded, then loosened the knot on his tie. “You aren’t putting me out, Ciara. The penthouse has six bedrooms.”

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