Because Madeline challenged you, a voice warns me, and it is right.
I never run from a challenge.
“You won’t be able to maintain your lifestyle if you’re unemployed, Miss Turner. I’m your only hope.”
Chapter 4
The Sheikh’svoiceis deep, powerful, and even if I didn’t know who it belonged to, I would have no doubt that the owner was used to being obeyed.
I don’t even know what made me stop. I’m so angry.
At him, mainly, but also at myself. If it weren’t for my clumsiness, I wouldn’t have made a spectacle of myself at the interview.
Indignation, however, overcame shame, as the man realized that for a moment I had forgottenwhereandhowI was—half-naked—and lost myself completely, admiring him.
I stare at him, this time with intention. The expression “desert’s delight” doesn’t come close to describing how magnificent he is.
Strong, muscular body, but without looking buff, not an ounce of fat on display in his more than two hundred pounds. He’s tall enough that I have to lift my chin—and I’m not short.An elegance that’s both sensual and wild. I can picture him with all the classic attire from his country in a desert camp.
His eyes are a shade of gray I’ve never seen. Not that bluish gray but dark, like steel.
The man is undeniably handsome, with a square jaw that even his stubble can’t hide.
I’ve read that, contrary to popular belief, growing a beard is not mandatory in Kamal’s culture and religion.
I thought I didn’t like men with stubble, but it looks perfect on him.
There’s something about the man, though, that I can’t explain, and it makes me take a step back even after what I’ve said. His claim that he is my only hope of keeping me in London is, in all honesty, true.
Kamal’s beauty cannot disguise that he is a ruthless man. His face is hard, as are his shoulders—I suspect mirroring his nature. He has such a masculine beauty that it is impossible not to admire him.
His black hair is slicked back. There isn’t a strand out of place, which makes me want to mess it up, wanting to know what it’s like to see him lose control, even over something as silly as disheveled hair.
The dark gray suit matches perfectly with his eyes, and it looks like it was painted onto his body.
He’s sexy in an almost brutal way. His beauty is overwhelming.
I take a deep breath and force myself back into my outraged mood because I’m afraid he’ll be able to read me.
“You are right when you say that my family is bankrupt, Your Excellency.” I almost congratulate myself for keeping my voice steady. “But after what I heard, there’s no way I’m going to work for you.”
“Let’s talk in my office, Miss Turner.”
I’m tempted to say ‘no’, but maybe he didn’t mean it about seducing me, and it was just an expression?
The Sheikh is right to say that, without the generous paycheck I’d get from him, I would have to leave. London is expensive, and now that I have to leave my family’s apartment—which the bank will take along with the rest of the Turner-Miller estate—the only option would be returning to the United States.
Still, I don’t move. The corner of his lips lifts in a ghostly, wry smile, as if confirming that I really have no choice but to follow him.
There’s something dark about the man, and my instincts tell me to back out, but I don’t want to give up so easily. With a defeated sigh, I walk over to him.
He motions for me to walk past him and talks to the other man, whom I couldn’t even describe to save my life.
“Go ahead,” he says behind me, and I shudder, but I do as he says.
His footsteps are muffled by the plush carpet, but his presence is so powerful that I can feel his body heat, as crazy as it sounds.
He opens a door for me. I walk past him again without meeting his eyes, trying to ignore the musky, masculine scent coming from him.
