Page 30 of Warming the Sheikh's Bed & Love in the Fast Lane

The life she had built for herself could fall apart if the wrong thread was pulled.

And he was pulling it. Tugging at it incessantly, actually.

She swallowed the feelings of panic that arose whenever she thought of her past.

Since meeting Layth, she’d done a lot more of that. Slipping back through the fabric of time as though it had no quantity. As though ten years ago was as relevant and proximate as the previous day.

Only Layth had apparently not taken the hint.

Dressed in a cream coloured skirt and a pale peach blouse, Cassie had felt prepared for anything. Her favourite gold heels had added a touch of glamour to the outfit; she’d dressed that morning for the busy day ahead.

She had told herself that she wouldn’t think of Layth. That she wouldn’t wonder how he’d waited for her. How he’d watched the clock and grown increasingly impatient with her, until the penny had finally dropped that she didn’t plan to go to him – that night or any.

Her gut clenched at the very idea, but she knew her decision had been the right one.

Since she’d realised that she could redefine how she viewed sex, several years earlier, she’d never once met a man who threatened that. She’d been happy to see sex as an exchange of desire and lust, passion and hunger. It had been a revelation!

An act that had, at one time, been a source of abject misery and fear, had morphed into something else altogether. And yet, Cassie was powerful.

Layth took that power from her.

He made her see that she was his subject, whether a citizen of Takisabad or not.

That was why she’d stayed away from him the first time, and why she should have stayed strong. Instead, she’d crumbled, and now the mess was spreading.

Especially because he appeared to be unable to take ‘no’ for an answer.

The building was like all the others in the small Kensington cul-de-sac. Beautifully presented, it loomed over the shade-covered street. Despite the mildness of the day, Cassie shivered now.

It was the first time she had seen the flag of Takisabad. Gold, white and green, it waved in the passing breeze, and it seemed to be speaking to her. It almost seemed to be saying that she wasn’t welcome here. That she didn’t belong.

Cassie sucked in a deep breath. He had summoned her in the only way she couldn’t refuse.

Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the darkly tinted windows. Was he behind one of them, looking out at her?

He had done way more than simply summon her. He’d gone above her head, and conta

cted her boss. Her entire day of appointments had been cancelled for this.

For him.

Again, her throat worked overtime to remove the lump.

Watching or not, he was in there somewhere.

And she had to see him. If only to know why. Why had he arranged this?

Her feet were a little unsteady as she propelled herself forward, up the steps and towards the door. Two guards stood sentinel, though they were far more formally dressed than the men she’d become accustomed to seeing at his Knightsbridge hotel. These wore black suits embellished with gold detail, and crisp white shirts.

At her arrival, one lifted his wrist and spoke into it. Presumably he wore a radio of some sort.

The door was opened inwards by yet another servant of the Emir – this one dressed in a robe.

He didn’t speak to Cassie, but indicated with a small nod of his head that she should follow him. And she did, but not at speed. How could she move quickly through a place of such beauty? Her eyes clung to the masterpieces that adorned the walls. Paintings and tapestries adorned the surfaces, many of them obviously over a thousand years old. Her heartbeat accelerated as the servant took her up a flight of stairs and into a wide corridor. Flowers! Everywhere! Enormous arrangements of brightly coloured blooms, fragrant and foreign. She paused at one vase, almost as tall as she. It was filled with something that looked a cross between a gladioli and a bird of paradise. Tall and spiked with pastel colours, it smelled of honey and vanilla.

Cassie couldn’t resist touching it. She put her fingers out and ran it the length of the stem. It was soft and velvety.

The servant cleared his throat, startling Cassie out of her admiration. She stepped back from the arrangement and moved towards the man. When she neared, he began to walk again, all the way down the flower-lined corridor, to a pair of ornate gold doors at the end. Cassie had presumed they were painted, but on closer inspection she saw that they were, quite possibly, made of actual gold.

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