Page 29 of In the Hands of the Sheikh

“Thank you. Apparently being vacuous comes easily to me.”

His expression quickly flicked to annoyance. “Why do you turn my praise into insults so often?”

“Do I?” She denied, surprised into looking up at him.

He was stopped from responding by the arrival of another dignitary. Phoebe replaced her mask of social interest and continued with her duties. Often, she looked towards Becca, and felt a pang of envy. Becca was having a great time. As the best friend of the future Sheikha, she, too, was lavished with attention and compliments. But no one cared if she didn’t remember their names. She was able to cover any faux pas with a little laugh and shake of her head.

Phoebe sighed.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the night was at an end.

“Please tell me I won’t have to do events like that too often,” she complained to Hakim, later, when the three of them were on their way back to Phoebe’s suite of rooms.

His look was droll. “Only most nights.”

“No!” She playfully slapped his arm. “You are joking, aren’t you?”

“Only partly. You did very well, though, Phoebe. You will be an excellent wife.”

Becca slid him a curious glance at his formal phrasing, which Phoebe noticed, and Hakim did not. “She will be. You’re lucky, Hakim.”

Phoebe felt her curiosity spike to see how Hakim would respond to Becca’s familiarity.

Apparently, he didn’t mind Becca using his first name at all. “I am,” he agreed with a smile. All benevolence.

Satisfied, Becca moved a little distance ahead of the pair.

“You’re not going to ask her to call you sir?” Phoebe asked with an arch expression, when Becca was out of earshot.

He shook his head. “I thought that might offend you.”

“And you care about that?”

“Of course. Besides, I like Becca. I approve of her as a friend for you.”

Jealousy, sharp and unmistakable, speared through Phoebe. It was a foreign feeling. One she had never felt towards Becca, despite her friend’s obvious beauty and sweet nature. But the idea of Hakim finding another woman attractive suddenly filled Phoebe with a stone cold dread.

“Do I need your approval for my friendships?” She asked, hiding her envy in anger.

“Are you trying to pick an argument with me?” He queried, a sigh escaping from him.

“No.” She denied, though she had been.

His dark eyes were scanning her face, trying to read something there. “Sometimes, Phoebe, you are very young.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She whispered, her heart feeling stiff with soreness.

“It isn’t your fault. You are twenty one, and a woman who has been indulged and worshipped all her life. You must take care, however, not to behave like a spoiled brat.”

“Oh!” She remarked with indignant surprise. “You just said I did well tonight.”

“You did. But you made sure to complain to me about your duties. When we marry, you will have a life of unimaginable wealth and luxury. You do not need to begrudge a few hours per week spent fulfilling your royal obligations.”

Anger made her speak in a cross whisper, without thinking. “I thought my royal duties were to welcome you to my bed whenever you wished it.”

He stopped walking. It was obvious, from the ragged rise and fall of his chest, that she’d succeeded in angering him. Royally. “That too,” he said with a warning note in his voice.

“Hey! Are you guys coming?” Becca’s cheery enquiry would have made Phoebe smile were it not for the fact that her temper was white hot.

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