Page 12 of Bred By the Sheikh

The city stretched below, enormous and bright, but my attention went past the towers toward the Gulf.

The water was still blue, even with the sun dropping lower.

The color deepened toward the horizon while streaks of peach began forming around the light.

A narrow planter ran along the terrace wall, filled with small pink flowers trembling in the breeze.

I moved closer.

After a day of marble, glass, enormous screens, executive suites, and people who seemed capable of arranging transportation by thinking firmly in its direction, the tiny flowers made me smile.

“They’re bougainvillea.”

I turned.

Tariq stood in the doorway.

He’d removed his suit jacket.

That was all.

He still wore the same crisp shirt and tailored trousers.

It shouldn’t have made him look more dangerous.

It did.

“I was wondering.”

“You like them.”

“They’re pretty.”

He looked from the flowers to me.

“You spent the afternoon inside one of the most expensive hotels in Dubai.”

“I noticed.”

“And these are what stopped you.”

“They’re pink.”

His brows rose.

“That’s your professional assessment?”

“No. Professionally, I’d need at least three meetings before approving pink.”

He gave that low laugh again.

I smiled anyway.

He stepped onto the terrace, not close enough to touch but close enough that I could smell clean fabric and something subtle from his skin.

My stomach tightened.

I turned back toward the water.