"I'll take care of her."
"And your wife?" the sheikh asked in sardonic amusement.
"I'll take care of that, too."
Chapter Three
THE WATER WAS WARM, almost too warm.
Steam filled the bathroom, curling around her like a lover’s embrace, and Sarica leaned back against the tiled wall, her eyes closed as she let the heat seep into her bones. But she wasn’t alone.
Strong hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer, and she gasped as a body pressed against hers. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know who it was. The feel of him, the scent of him—it was all so familiar, so achingly right. Her hands slid up his chest, her fingers tracing the hard planes of muscle as she leaned in to kiss him, her lips parting under his.
“Giancarlo,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “I’ve missed you.”
He didn’t answer, but his hands moved over her body with a possessiveness that left her trembling. His touch was everywhere, his mouth hot against her skin as he kissed her neck, her shoulders, her collarbone. She arched into him, her body responding to his every move, every touch, until she was trembling on the edge.
“Giancarlo,” she moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. “Please...”
But something was wrong. The hands on her hips felt different—rougher, more demanding. The body pressed against hers wasunfamiliar, the scent not his. Her eyes flew open, and her breath caught in her throat.
It wasn’t Giancarlo.
The man in the shower with her was a stranger, his face shadowed but his eyes burning with an intensity that made her stomach twist. She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, holding her in place as he leaned in to kiss her. She turned her head, but it was too late. His lips brushed against hers, and she felt a surge of something she didn’t want to feel—pleasure, hot and undeniable, coursing through her.
“No,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This isn’t right...”
But her body betrayed her, arching into his touch as his hands moved lower, his fingers sliding between her legs. She gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders as the pleasure built inside her, hot and relentless. She tried to fight it, tried to pull away, but it was too much. The heat, the pressure, the way his body moved against hers—it was all too much.
“Dauphin...”
Excruciating agony ripped through Giancarlo at the sound of Sarica moaning another man's name. He lunged forward, but the chains binding his limbs held him back, and there was nothing he could do but watch in a mixture of rage and betrayal as Sarica’s moans filled the air.
No, stop, no!
Steam from the shower blocked his view as Sarica and her lover came together. He could no longer see anything but he could hear everything.
The couple's bodies slapping against each other—-
The breathless panting—-
And Sarica crying it out again—-
Dauphin.
It was the sound of a woman who was about to come.
GIANCARLO'S RAGGEDbreath destroyed the silence as soon as he was released from his nightmare.
Even though he knew now none of it was real—-
He was still unable to make himself forget.
And that was when he felt it.
Something that he hadn't felt since his father and grandfather were massacred.
Something he thought he had long taken control of.
