Page 40 of Her Irresistible Sheik
As soon as he stepped inside, he slammed the steel door behind him and leaned against it, panting.The stench of lavender still rose off his skin, sharp and cloying, like mockery in the air.
He tore off his jacket and hurled it across the room.It hit a pile of crates with a dull thud.He didn’t stop there.He yanked off his shirt—still slick with the oil-based perfume—and flung it onto the concrete floor, stomping on it as if he could grind the scent into dust.
“You think you’re clever, Princess?” he hissed under his breath, voice gravelly with rage.“You think this is funny?You and your little cameras and your lavender-scented death traps?”
He paced, his steps sharp and uneven.
“She humiliated me,” he growled aloud, shoving a stack of folders off a table.They scattered everywhere.“Freakingperfumedme!I spent three hours in that palace crawling through air vents like a rat, and what did I get?A shattered perfume bottle to the head.A jammed thumb.A mouthful of blood and a damntoothgone.”
It wasn’t just humiliation.It was war.
After a blistering shower at a nearby gym and a visit to a back-alley doctor who didn’t ask questions, Clyde’s thumb was reset and splinted.Still sore, but the pain was finally manageable.He clenched it experimentally, hissed, then relaxed.
The dentist—some smug bastard who smelled of stale coffee and latex—had confirmed that yes, he’d lost a tooth, but until he took a mold of his mouth, another tooth implant couldn’t be created.Clyde didn’t want any evidence of himself floating around, even digital images of his mouth, so he declined the treatment plan.
But the dentist had given him pain meds.Something strong.After visiting a pharmacy, Clyde washed one down with warm water from a cracked thermos, then sat at the worktable in his makeshift “office.Pulling out his laptop from the hidden space in the rubble, Clyde flicked it on and waited seconds until the files appeared on his screen.
Photos loaded—floorplans, guard rotations, blueprints of air ducts and schematics of the palace power grid.
He exhaled slowly, then leaned closer, his mind already working now that he wasn’t in so much pain.
“New plan,” he muttered.“No more games.”
This time, he wouldn’t sneak through shadows like a ghost.
This time, he’d carve a path straight to her.Let the whole palace tremble.
No more perfume.No more rumpled sheets.No more stupid vents.
She’d made a fool of him.
Now he was going to show her what kind of man she’d crossed.
And this time, when he got to her, he wouldn’t hesitate.
Chapter 22
Breathing in, Nahla held her breath for a long moment, squinting down the length of the arrow with one eye closed—because that’s what the guy in the video did—then…release!
The arrow flopped to the ground at her feet with all the menace of a fallen twig.
“Darn it!”she muttered, hands on her hips.That one had actually felt promising.
With a resigned sigh, she stooped to pick it up, brushing a leaf off the fletching.The bow and arrows had been part of a sports cabinet she’d discovered thanks to a well-meaning palace servant.There had been soccer balls, a croquet set, baseball gear, and an odd tangle of cricket equipment that looked like it required a physics degree to play properly.
She had considered the soccer ball for half a second—until she remembered her complete inability to kick anything without falling over.
And running?No, thank you.
Archery, however…nowthatlooked civilized.You stood in one spot, breathed calmly, aimed gracefully, and let your arrow fly.Very Katniss Everdeen meets royal self-care.It didn’t require speed, stamina, or even shoes with proper traction.It was the thinking woman’s sport.
After watching two—okay, eight—training videos on how to hold, notch, aim, breathe, and release, she’d been convinced that archery was the sport for her.Plus, she’d found a delightfully secluded courtyard surrounded by thick hedges and tall trees.A place where her arrows could disappear into the greenery and not end up hurting anyone.
Notching the arrow again, she narrowed her eyes at the straw target.It stared back at her blankly, as if it knew it was perfectly safe.
Very carefully, she settled the shaft of the arrow into place, adjusted the grip on the string, inhaled through her nose like she’d been taught and—release!
The arrow shot forward!
