“I can, but I would never force you, Madeline. It’s not my style to take women who don’t admit to themselves what they want. If . . .” He pauses. “Or rather,whenyou come to me, it will be a thought-out decision.”
I close my eyes again. I can’t control it, and the image of the two of us in a bedroom, without our clothes as a barrier, invades my mind.
I remember his hands. They are as large and strong as the Sheikh himself.
What would it feel like to have them on my body?
I hear a groan, and when I open my eyes, I realize it’s him. His eyes are darker now, almost cruel.
“You’re sending me mixed messages, Madeline. Your words say one thing, but your body says another.”
My heart races because I know he’s telling the truth. Before I have to come up with a lie, though, a knock on the door makes me leap away from him.
“Your Excellency, you have a meeting in ten minutes on the twentieth floor,” Sinara, his secretary, informs him.
As if we weren’t caught in a sexy trance just seconds ago, his face turns into a mask of indifference. “You heard her, Madeline. Meet me there,” he commands, dismissing me.
After exposing how attracted I am to my boss, I force myself to stay focused throughout the meeting. As he explained, I don’t need to pay attention to the matters that are being discussed because there are two secretaries taking notes. My duty is to analyze Kamal’s behavior and inform him later if he was rude in any way during his interactions.
So far, I haven’t seen anything that could be considered rude. He is certainly assertive. When he says something, there is no room for ambiguity, but he never raises his voice.
I wonder what goes through people’s minds while negotiating with him because the man is incredibly intimidating. Like a king, he conveys the message that everyone must obey him.
I see him conclude the meeting and wait for everyone to leave. Despite being embarrassed by our little exchange earlier, I need to ask him what I should wear to the party tomorrow so I can find an appropriate dress.
He didn’t spare a glance in my direction during the entire meeting, so I’m quite nervous when the last person leaves and closes the door.
“You have nothing else to do here, Miss Turner.”
“Isn’t it Madeline, Your Excellency?” It’s imprudent of me to ask, even though I’m ashamed of momentarily giving in to the physical attraction I feel for him, we need to deal with it like adults.
“What do you want, Madeline?”
“Well, first of all, I must tell you that you were just rude in that excessively direct question. The proper way to address me would be to say: ‘How may I assist you, Madeline?’“
I hear him sigh as I gather my notes together. When I look back at him, he’s not angry as I thought he would be—he’s almost smiling.
“You’re quite cheeky, Miss Turner.”
This time, when he addresses me like that, I understand it as provocation.
“Occasionally, my Sheikh.”
His smile fades, and his eyes grow darker again.
I quickly stand up before I fall back into the ridiculous role of being just another admirer of the Tempting Sheikh. “I waited for everyone to leave because I want to ask you about the party tomorrow.”
“What about it?”
“I have no idea how I should dress for the occasion. I didn’t think about it when I was hired. I brought only one evening gown, but even if I had brought others, I couldn’twear them. So I would appreciate it if you could give me some guidance because I don’t want to embarrass you.”
“Why is it that you couldn’t wear the ones you had at home, in the United States?”
“They are very . . .uh . . .inappropriate for work events.”
He shifts in his chair. “Inappropriate how?”
“Suggestive cleavage. Thigh-high slits. My mother picked them out for me, but they don’t suit me.”
