Olivia Gates - The Sheikh's Claim

“Good girl!” She could just see Aliyah’s unbridled smile. “Now when will I see you?”

Ugh. Now she had to make another promise.

But why not? She knew it would be beyond either of them to keep this one. She doubted the queen of Judar would find it feasible to continue a friendship with someone of her background.

She exhaled. “As soon as we know more about the plans for Aunt, I’ll call you to set up a girls’ day out.”

Aliyah whooped. “And I’m holding you to that.”

After more chatting, Lujayn started to regain the fluency they’d once shared, until Aliyah had to rush to extract her daughter from a literally sticky mess and laughingly bade her adieu.

Lujayn collapsed on the nearest seat. If she was already coming apart, what would the next weeks or months here be like?

It was just her terrible luck to come back to Azmahar now, with Jalal on Azmaharian soil for the first time in years. She hated being in the same airspace as him. And Aliyah’s call had made her feel as if his shadow was closer and darker than ever.

Which was moronic. Not only had he said he’d delete her from his memory, he had a throne to think of. Even if he hadn’t, she’d be the last thing to cross his mind. She’d been the last thing he’d thought about or considered when she’d been his sex partner. She’d been one of many, after all.

He’d arranged their rendezvouses when it had been convenient for him, sometimes weeks apart, and no way had he suppressed his overriding libido that long. She’d spent the times apart alternating between a hell of doubt, and telling herself it was only her insecurities talking. But she’d seen and heard too much proof that instead of “storing his hunger to be expended on her luscious self” as he’d once claimed, he’d had a different body in his bed every night.

To her shame, that hadn’t been what had finally made her walk away.

After all, he’d promised her nothing to justify her feeling bad, let alone betrayed.

Cursing herself for regurgitating those sordid memories, her eyes darted around the hotel suite. She’d reserved it for the coming weeks as it was within walking distance of the hospital so she’d be constantly available for her aunt.

She’d just come back from starting arrangements at the hospital. Just thinking of what lay ahead filled her with dread. No wonder Aliyah’s call had shaken her. She was already in turmoil. And it had nothing to do with any other Aal Shalaan.

She rose and headed to the kitchenette to make a cup of herbal tea. She needed to be calm for the drive back to her aunt’s at the outskirts of Durrat al Sahel. Traffic in the capital had gotten far worse than she remembered.

With the first sip from her hibiscus brew, a loud, melodious noise shattered the suite’s silence. She gulped the hot liquid, scalded her tongue and choked.

She was coughing her lungs out when the noise went off again. A doorbell. She hadn’t even realized the suite had one!

It must be housekeeping. And she hadn’t thought of hanging a Do Not Disturb sign—she’d planned to stay only an hour.

She stalked to the door, flung it open, intending to let them in and herself out … and froze. Her heart did, too.

Filling the door, dwarfing her and causing the world to shrink, stood Jalal. The reason behind every tumult in her life since she’d laid eyes on him.

But he wasn’t only that man. He was … more.

She’d once thought nothing could surpass him in beauty and magnificence. And nothing had. And during their affair, he’d proved only he could best his own standards. That six-foot-six broad-shouldered, divinely proportioned body she’d thought the epitome of manhood had kept maturing to godlike levels, as she’d had hands-on proof. Every day they’d had together had hewn his face further with the chisel of maturity and virility, manifesting his intelligence and sensuality and dominance in its every slash and angle and expression.

But something had happened to him since she’d last seen him two years ago. As if the darkness and danger she’d long suspected he’d hidden beneath the facade of graciousness and gorgeousness had manifested in his looks, emanated from his every nuance. It turned his beauty, his impact, from breathtaking to heartbreaking.

He was staring down at her as if he, too, was shocked to see her. When he was the one who’d almost given her a heart attack just by showing up.

After what felt like an hour of suspended thought and escalating distress, his whiskey-colored eyes narrowed, singeing her. Then his voice poured over her, feeling like a dip in lava.

“I said I’d delete you from my memory, but it appears there is no forgetting you without erasing it altogether. So I’ve decided to stop trying, to go all the way in the opposite direction. I now think my only cure is to revive every memory, to reenact every single intimacy we ever shared.”

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