AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“My job is to take care of the Sheikhs’ guests. If you have a question, I am here to answer it.”
“Did you know my sister? Did she ever fly on here? Or perhaps you met her elsewhere?” She reached into her pocket while she spoke and pulled her phone out, loading up the same picture she’d shown Rafiq only hours earlier.
“Ah, yes! Miss Cassandra is your sister?”
Emma let out a huge smile. “Yes! And… did she seem happy when she was with you?” Emma was, in all honesty, finding it hard to envisage how the bombastic man she’d come to know could make anyone happy, least of all her flighty, free-spirited, irresponsible twin.
“Miss Cassandra and the Sheikh were very happy together, yes.”
Emma knew enough of her treacherous feelings of longing to know that, while that might have been the answer she should have wanted, it wasn’t. Beneath them, the plane whirred to life and the sound of the engines spinning rushed through the cabin.
“You must hurry if you would like to change. The pilot will wait until you are seated to take off but you know that His Highness does not like to be kept waiting.” As she spoke, she pointed towards a concealed doorway across the room.
Emma nodded, anxious again, as she crossed the room and looked inside. There were a couple of different outfits but they were all traditional Amar’an clothes. Beautiful and bright, silk gowns, and harem pants (Oh, God! What she would call harem pants, because that’s what Vogue called harem pants. She hoped the Sheikh didn’t have an actual harem at his disposal!), all stunningly embellished with jewels which, given her surroundings, she thought might have been actual gemstones rather than the stick on kind.
Remembering Fatima’s warning, she stripped out of her suit in record timing and pulled on the turquoise outfit. She had always loved the color. Her mother, in between reiki sessions and juicing wheatgrass, had told her that the way she was drawn to turquoise could be explained by her open personality and emotionally simplistic aura.
Well, not today, mum, she said with a heaven-ward glance. Her emotions were anything but simple, and yet she still gravitated towards the color.
Anyone less spiritually inclined would have told Emma that the reason she had always loved turquoise wa
s because it perfectly flattered her complexion. Her eyes, a stunning shade of blue, looked like tropical lagoons when compared to the fabric, and with her red hair and fair skin, the dress transformed her into a Titian goddess.
She grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge and then pushed out of the bedroom, looking around for where she should sit.
The cabin was empty, except for the Sheikh.
She swallowed convulsively as the full force of his attraction hit her between the eyes. She dithered for a moment, wondering if she was supposed to join him.
“Emma,” he said without looking up, “hurry up and be seated so that we can leave. If you take any longer, we’re likely to miss our flight spot.”
She stifled her indignant retort and moved down the plane to the lounge area. He nodded towards the armchair beside his. She sat into it, marveling at the obscene comfort of the thing.
With a guttural noise of frustration, Rafiq stood and hovered above her, his green eyes finally locking with hers. He thought, out of nowhere, how well Amar’an clothes suited her. Far better than western suits. She looked incredibly exotic and bewitching in that outfit.
“Seatbelt,” he said sternly, leaning down and putting the strap low across her hips. He knew he didn’t imagine the way her breath hitched in her throat as his hands hovered at her waist, only centimeters from her most feminine heart. Up close, he could smell her sweet perfume, something floral and light, and he felt a kick of arousal in his gut.
She was going to hate him in a couple of hours, that was a given. In time, though, she might get over what he was about to do. But there was no way she’d ever forgive him if he acted on his attraction to her. Though she had the wrong end of the stick, it was not the time, nor place, to enlighten her.
He took his seat, buckled his own belt and then pressed a button on his phone. Immediately, as if remote controlled, Emma felt the plane lurch backwards and her old fear of flying resurfaced sharply.
“I suppose your plane has all the same safety checks as regular commercial jets,” she said softly, toying nervously with the gems at the collar of her gown.
He slid her a sidelong glance, “Of course, Emma. More, if anything. You forget that I am ruler of a country. Do you think I’m allowed to travel on anything that isn’t extensively secured?”
He had intended to reassure her but, hearing his sentence now, he felt an unusual compunction. He had sounded arrogant.
“You do not need to worry,” he tried again, seeing the way her face had drained of color. “It is a short flight.”
She frowned. It had taken about sixteen hours on the way over, but then again, she’d had to come via Chicago and London. Emma settled back in the seat, oblivious to the fact the Sheikh was watching her. She just wanted to click her heels together three times and be home…
* * *
It was Christmas time, and she was sitting across the table from Cassandra and Rafiq. They had their perfect baby, only it wasn’t a baby anymore. None of them had aged, but they had a six year old girl, who was the perfect physical interpretation of the two genetically blessed people who had combined to create her. And Rafiq, his face tanned, his lips full, was watching her. “Time for a Christmas kiss from my sister-in-law,” he said in his accented voice, and Emma’s heart raced, because she knew he knew that she was in love with him.
Guitar music filtered across the table, and Emma frowned, because she was a stickler for traditions and Christmas carols were almost all she listened to from Thanksgiving to New Years Eve. The guitar music got louder and she blinked her eyes open blearily, confronted by fluorescent lighting and a strange humming noise.
It wasn’t Christmas! She was on the airplane. Her eyes flew wide as she turned to the seat beside her. Rafiq’s green eyes lanced through her. “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”
