Page 9 of The Sheik's Embrace

She couldn’t form words. Three people? Was he about to fire her?

Tara stepped forward, her hands fisting the material of her dress. “I can handle the work load, Your Highness.”

He smiled gently down at her. “I know you can. You’ve been working for me for the past two years and you’ve done an exceptionally good job. But I hadn’t realized that you’re working even longer hours than I do. You need help.”

“But…!” she gasped, trying to figure out a way to convince him that she was capable of handing the requirements of the position. “I can do this, Your Highness! I’ve been doing it for more than two years! Have I ever let you down?”

“Never,” he replied, then perched on the edge of her desk. “However, tell me the last movie you watched.”

Tara blinked at him, so surprised by his question, it was almost as if he were speaking a different language.

“Movie?”

“Yes. What’s the last movie you saw?”

Tara groaned, a little annoyed by his patient attitude, but also amused by his question. She crossed her arms and glared right back at him. “What was the last movieyousaw?”

Chapter 8

Zayed could barely hold back on his desire when she looked like this. Her anxiety had shifted to confidence and he caught a knowing glint in those lovely eyes. It took him several moments to remember her question.

Thankfully, he thought of the movie, but only because it was an action movie and, while he’d watched it with his nieces and nephews, he’d wondered what it would be like to save Tara in the same way that the police officers had in the last scene of the movie.

He named the movie, then smiled smugly when her expression shifted to surprise. “Now you. What was the movie?”

Tara bit her lip, lowering her eyes and he knew he’d asked a question that would reveal a whole lot more than just her work habits.

“You’re late for your first meeting, Your Highness,” she said instead of answering the question.

Intriguing, he thought. He watched her for another moment, then nodded. “You’re right. But this conversation isn’t over.” He pushed away from her desk and turned, heading for the doorway. “Finish your…” he glanced down at the disgusting breakfast, then sighed, “breakfast,” he finally finished, “before coming in to take notes. I’ll note any questions I need more information on. But I want that,” he nodded towards the bowl of mush, “finished before you do anything else.”

Then he walked out, nodding to Chaid before he headed to his first meeting.

Tara stared at the empty doorway, stifling the unexpected burst of laughter at his revulsion for her healthy meal. But oatmeal was one of her favorites. Not necessarily because of the health benefits, but because she remembered her sister whenever she ate oatmeal. She remembered those desperate mornings and the ache, the terror as she’d wondered what would happen next.

Jerking herself out of the memories, she took the small bowl of oatmeal and ate as much as she could. It wasn’t tasty, but the meal reminded her of those few good moments with her sister and…well, it was better not to dwell on the bad times.

Less than three minutes after Zayed left her office, she grabbed her notebook and headed down the hallway. There were two men, bodyguards, that seemed to be following in her wake. But she assumed they were heading for their shift to guard Zayed and their presence had nothing to do with her. So she ignored them and quietly opened the door to the conference room where Zayed’s first meeting was in progress. She took a seat by the door, ignoring his glare as she settled in and started taking notes. Thankfully, they hadn’t really gotten into the crux of the meeting, so she hadn’t missed anything important.

The day went along as usual, with the expected hustle and bustle, and no new messages appeared on her secret phone. No new panic attacks. However, Tara knew not to let her guard down. So at the end of the day, while Zayed left to have dinner with the British ambassador, she sat at her desk, making notes and working through the meetings for the next day, all the while, contemplating where she was going to sleep tonight. There was also the problem of what she would wear to work tomorrow. Tara always kept a clean outfit here in her office. But she’d worn it this morning after showering in the employee locker room. She didn’t have any more clothes here.

However, the thought of making the trek to her apartment was…worrying. She knew that Kaia wouldn’t have sent the message if she wasn’t positive of the danger.

Maybe she could wash her panties from yesterday and…would anyone recognize yesterday’s outfit if she wore it tomorrow?

Her clothes weren’t particularly interesting. So she assumed that no one would notice that she wore the same outfit twice in the same week. Yes, that would be her solution. And maybe she could rush over during…she examined tomorrow’s schedule, her finger running down over the list of meetings on Zayed’s calendar. He had another security briefing. Yes, she could slip away during that hour and grab more clothes. She’d bring several outfits back to the palace. She knew exactly where to hide them. Tara had become an expert at hiding stuff over the years to protect herself or something she cherished.

Chapter 9

Elijah huffed as he climbed out of bed in the morning, irritated to discover that it was still dark. “Blasted country! They don’t even keep the correct schedules!” He was grumpy that he was wide awake at night, unwilling to shift his sleep schedule to the current day/night hours. Elijah didn’t want to complicate his life upon his return to Kentucky by unnecessarily changing his watch to the current time zone.

His return. Thinking about his wife, he wondered what Tara looked like now. He’d been married to Tara thirteen years ago. But he hadn’t been allowed to enjoy his wedding night. His wife had been secreted away, stolen by his brat of a sister-in-law. Kaia, he remembered, had been one of the most disobedient of their entire village. The child had been outspoken, constantly questioning the rules, speaking out when she should remain silent, and sneaking books into her room, reading materials other than the good book.

That little bitch had stolen Tara from him. Tara had been so pretty and innocent on their wedding day. She’d been nervous, as was appropriate. But those huge, green eyes had stared up at him, trusting him.

She would pay, he thought as he gripped his suddenly hard shaft with the palm of his hand. Stroking himself, he pictured in his mind what he would do to the sisters once they were brought back into the fold of their church family. The lash would be the most appropriate form of discipline.

Grunting, he pictured his wife’s back in his mind and…groaned as the pleasure erupted all over his hand.

---