Page 1 of Sheikh's Pregnant Love Slave

Chapter One

Brenda McKann yawned as she opened up the curtains in Sheikh Jamsheed Rahal’s penthouse. Usually, her duties cleaning his London flat would start far earlier, but he threw a party in the ballroom of the high rise earlier, and she joined with the rest of the staff to handle that mess. While it technically wasn’t in her job description as merely Sheikh Jamsheed’s personal maid, Brenda still felt like she had a responsibility to help as best as she could. Whoever thought a foam party would be a great idea should have been drug out into the street and shot. That left her a few hours behind in her daily routine and a bit shocked with the dark surroundings.

Typically on business days, Jamsheed—no matter how hard he partied—was up with the sun and ready to start another morning managing his family’s oil business. Of course, the sheikh’s whereabouts shouldn’t matter to her beyond making sure she didn’t interrupt him with her cleaning. It didn’t matter how handsome he was, nor did the way he made her heart flutter even after months of working for him. Sheikh Jamsheed Rahal was her boss, and she had to remember that.

Even if sometimes she felt like he saved a special, sly smile just for her.

Sighing, Brenda arched her back and let her joints crack. She overtaxed herself already that morning and needed to remember that she wasn’t twenty anymore, when she could pull all-nighters and clean whole penthouses single-handedly and in a giant bound. At almost forty, she was feeling her own aches and pains, the results of almost two full decades in the cleaning industry. She was a maid and a damn good one, but she was one who might not be able to keep the strenuous workload up forever, even if Sheikh Rahal paid handsomely and his kind favor was currently putting her daughter through college.

Shaking her head and grabbing her bucket, Brenda pushed out both her worries about her future and her silly wishes about the sheikh out of her mind. She had a job to do and, while it was far from glamorous, there was an odd calm in her simple tasks. While most people would balk at scrubbing bathroom floors, the simple, repetitive motion allowed her to zone out and obtain a bit of peace, to let her constant thoughts rest as she applied pure muscle and effort. That would hit the spot; distract her from everything else.

Except when she walked into the sheikh’s bedroom at almost noon, Brenda had to choke back her immediate reaction, which would have been a quick curse. Before her in the king-sized bed and under the comforter lay not only the sheikh, but two other women—one blonde and one brunette, each of them a stark contrast in complexion and appearance from Brenda’s own pale skin and scarlet locks.

Damn it.

She shouldn’t even think about being in bed with the sheikh. She had no right to. Then Sheikh Rahal turned and his blanked slipped a bit further down his chest, exposing the ridges of his abs. Brenda licked her lips and tried to scurry as quickly as she could back out of the door. She would focus on the main living area and the guest rooms, which would keep her busy for an hour or so. If Sheikh Rahal wasn’t up by then, she’d merely come back. This was beyond inappropriate. Of course, with his reputation, Sheikh Rahal apparently lived for nothing but inappropriate moments; all the side effects of being a confirmed bachelor and playboy into his forties, a Middle Eastern George Clooney.

Brenda would have made it back out the door as silently as she snuck in if she hadn’t tripped over a stray high heel. One of the women had to have lost it in the commotion of the previous night. She dropped the bucket as her arms windmilled to keep her from falling backwards onto her butt. The action didn’t work and she landed hard on her ass, the jolt of pain going up her spine and into her back.

A sharp curse left her lips.

“Who is that?” Sheikh Rahal asked, his tone gruff as he sat up and pulled the comforter around him. Then his eyes settled on Brenda with the mop water sloshed on her uniform and the bucket dribbling out at her side. “Are you all right?”

She swallowed hard and forced herself to stare only at places that would be appropriate—and damn all the codes of conduct for servant and boss—which basically meant focusing on his eyes. Not that his eyes weren’t nice. They weren’t his abs, which were glorious, but they were a nice honey-wheat color that seemed to hypnotize Brenda whenever she stared too long at them.

Like now.

“I fell.” Grimacing, she tried not to let him notice how dumb she felt. “And I really just stated the obvious.”

Sheikh Rahal shook his head and got to his feet, the blanket falling from his body and she looked at the floor in an effort to avoid even more embarrassment and exposure. “Is the floor really that interesting, Brenda?”

“I can’t.”

“I slipped on boxers sometime this morning. You won’t get but so much of an eyeful, but I’m not ashamed of myself either way.”

“Uh, good, you probably shouldn’t be.” Her cheeks flushed and she was sure they were as red as her hair by this point. “Oh man, I shouldn’t say words.”

He chuckled and she looked up at him, slightly disappointed that he told the truth and now stood before her nearly naked save for his black silk boxers, ones that clung to his muscular thighs in a sinfully tight way.

“I think you’re doing all right.” He hurried over to her and helped her to her feet, which drew them close together. She could feel his warm breath on her cheeks, almost sense the scrape of his goatee on her forehead. “You’re sure you don’t need to see a doctor about the fall? I could have my personal physician here at a moment’s notice.”

His voice was a low rumble that made her stomach flare with warmth. All she had to do was lean up a little further and she could try and kiss him. Maybe he’d understand…

“Jamsheed, who is she?” the blonde asked, sitting up and unabashedly sharing her wares with the world. “I don’t want anyone else here.”

The brunette also rose in the bed, but at least she had one of Sheikh Rahal’s t-shirts on. “Exactly. Two is already sharing. I don’t want to split three ways.”

The sheikh looked back at the women and frowned. “She’s my maid; it’s nothing.”

Brenda pulled back instantly, as if she’d been scalded by hot water. “You’re right.”

His frown deepened as he looked toward her. “Brenda, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. Please, give me time to send the girls away, and I’ll call that doctor.”

Brenda straightened herself as best as she could, even if her uniform was clinging to her and her hair fell in wet clumps around her face. “It’s all right… I have to go.”

She ran out before he could stop her.

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