ROMANCE: Sleeping With The Sheikh (Billionaire Alpha Male Sheikh Romance) (New Adult Forbidden Series Short Stories) by Kylie Knight Page B
Authors: Kylie Knight
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they broke apart, both breathing heavily, he said, “Remember, my love, I notice you.”
Chapter Eight
Farhid slept for maybe an hour, possibly two that morning after returning to his hotel room after his night with Clarice. There was little that could bring down his spirits, but a call from his father tried very hard to do just that.
It came at around eight in the morning. As soon as Farhid knew that it was his father, he understood the gravity of the situation. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, perhaps he hadn’t been at all, in assuming that sending Djamila home on her own might be a good idea.
But it was all he could do at the time. Now he just had to find a way to explain that to his father without getting himself in a lot of trouble.
“Father,” Farhid greeted in as respectful a tone as he could muster while still preparing himself for the worst. “Your call is pleasant, but unexpected.”
“Is it really, Farhid my son?” came the Sheikh’s reply. His tone suggested that he was sitting on a brewing temper, one he was trying to manage and probably failing rather miserably. Farhid would have a very short amount of time to convince his father that this was the correct course of action before things would take a turn for the worse.
Taking a steadying breath, Farhid prepared to make his case. “It is. It always is. As for unexpected… well, perhaps I considered that you might wish to ask after me.”
“When you sent your new wife home without you perhaps?” the Sheikh growled into the receiver. “What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how it looks to send your wife home like that?”
“Father—” Farhid tried, but the Sheikh was not having it. He had no interest in listening to Farhid just then.
“It looks disgraceful. It looks as though your wife has angered you in some way, as though you are sending her home as punishment. This could damage her and her family’s reputation!”
Farhid clenched his jaw tightly, biting his tongue to keep from saying what he really wanted to say. Which was that all the Sheikh ever cared about was appearances. Did his feelings ever matter in any decision? His wants, his desires, his needs? Did they matter so little to his father?
It seemed the answer was yes, and it aggravated Farhid. It was the reason that his words came out a little clipped and less diplomatic than he would have liked. “She has done nothing wrong and you can tell whoever whispers behind her back just that. And as for her husband, he’ll return home in his own time. Am I not a man to be allowed at least that much to my own discretion?”
“You are a prince, son of the Sheikh and you shall return at your father’s command!”
But Farhid wasn’t listening. In fact, he’d made his decision. There was only one way he could extend his stay now and that was to hang up before his father could say anything else. So long as there was not a direct command, then Farhid was not directly disobeying his sovereign. It was a risky move, but it was the only one Farhid had left.
He had to take it.
The phone rang again, but Farhid didn’t answer. He almost unplugged the hotel phone—his he merely turned off—but realized that he’d told Clarice to call him at the hotel if she needed to get ahold of him. It meant he’d have to be careful as far as when he answered, but he would have to leave it plugged in.
He needed Clarice able to get ahold of him.
Feeling nervous and still very tired, Farhid went to the bathroom and showered, thinking of Clarice. He thought of her soft skin and her long, golden tresses. She was beautiful in a way so unlike Djamila. Her body was an hourglass, sand paused in time for what seemed like forever, frozen in a picture of desire.
He craved her with her bright blue eyes and her soft, milky skin. She was the thing that he’d been wanting for so long, the thing that he had believed he could never have—because of Djamila.
The thought of his wife cooled his
Chapter Eight
Farhid slept for maybe an hour, possibly two that morning after returning to his hotel room after his night with Clarice. There was little that could bring down his spirits, but a call from his father tried very hard to do just that.
It came at around eight in the morning. As soon as Farhid knew that it was his father, he understood the gravity of the situation. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, perhaps he hadn’t been at all, in assuming that sending Djamila home on her own might be a good idea.
But it was all he could do at the time. Now he just had to find a way to explain that to his father without getting himself in a lot of trouble.
“Father,” Farhid greeted in as respectful a tone as he could muster while still preparing himself for the worst. “Your call is pleasant, but unexpected.”
“Is it really, Farhid my son?” came the Sheikh’s reply. His tone suggested that he was sitting on a brewing temper, one he was trying to manage and probably failing rather miserably. Farhid would have a very short amount of time to convince his father that this was the correct course of action before things would take a turn for the worse.
Taking a steadying breath, Farhid prepared to make his case. “It is. It always is. As for unexpected… well, perhaps I considered that you might wish to ask after me.”
“When you sent your new wife home without you perhaps?” the Sheikh growled into the receiver. “What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how it looks to send your wife home like that?”
“Father—” Farhid tried, but the Sheikh was not having it. He had no interest in listening to Farhid just then.
“It looks disgraceful. It looks as though your wife has angered you in some way, as though you are sending her home as punishment. This could damage her and her family’s reputation!”
Farhid clenched his jaw tightly, biting his tongue to keep from saying what he really wanted to say. Which was that all the Sheikh ever cared about was appearances. Did his feelings ever matter in any decision? His wants, his desires, his needs? Did they matter so little to his father?
It seemed the answer was yes, and it aggravated Farhid. It was the reason that his words came out a little clipped and less diplomatic than he would have liked. “She has done nothing wrong and you can tell whoever whispers behind her back just that. And as for her husband, he’ll return home in his own time. Am I not a man to be allowed at least that much to my own discretion?”
“You are a prince, son of the Sheikh and you shall return at your father’s command!”
But Farhid wasn’t listening. In fact, he’d made his decision. There was only one way he could extend his stay now and that was to hang up before his father could say anything else. So long as there was not a direct command, then Farhid was not directly disobeying his sovereign. It was a risky move, but it was the only one Farhid had left.
He had to take it.
The phone rang again, but Farhid didn’t answer. He almost unplugged the hotel phone—his he merely turned off—but realized that he’d told Clarice to call him at the hotel if she needed to get ahold of him. It meant he’d have to be careful as far as when he answered, but he would have to leave it plugged in.
He needed Clarice able to get ahold of him.
Feeling nervous and still very tired, Farhid went to the bathroom and showered, thinking of Clarice. He thought of her soft skin and her long, golden tresses. She was beautiful in a way so unlike Djamila. Her body was an hourglass, sand paused in time for what seemed like forever, frozen in a picture of desire.
He craved her with her bright blue eyes and her soft, milky skin. She was the thing that he’d been wanting for so long, the thing that he had believed he could never have—because of Djamila.
The thought of his wife cooled his
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