Sheikh With Benefits by Teresa Morgan Page B

something else she wouldn't leave behind her.
    She smiled at her sister. "You're right. So come with me."
    Daliya's perfectly plucked eyebrows drew together. "Really?"
    For the first time Arya had ever seen, Daliya looked unsure of herself. Her normally confident expression was gone as she searched Arya's face.
    "Yes, really. You can't stay here with Dad." She locked her sister's hand in her own and gave it a supportive squeeze.
    "Okay. I will." Daliya's whole face brightened with a glow of anticipation and mischief. "We'll find hockey players or something."
    If only she could share Daliya's enthusiasm. There was hope for a decent life—but she would never allow another man into her bed. Not after all she'd shared with the only man she would ever love. And who, after tomorrow, she would never see again.

Chapter Seven
     
    One day, and his whole world had changed. Javad swallowed his chuckle, but permitted himself a whisper of a smile as he strode into the official reception for the Orméan Crown Prince. Arya. Things had worked out so efficiently. The piece he hadn't known was missing from his life had fallen into place with no effort or concern on his part. Now all he had to do was assure her of her position with him and things would be complete between them.
    Tonight, they would finally dance together, he promised himself, scanning the room for her.
    This reception was more to his liking. It seemed the entire upper class of Ulai had accepted the invitation. He had arranged a twelve-piece band to play a mix of traditional Ulain songs and Western-style jazz. The music wafted down to the dance floor from the high marble balcony above. Servers with traditional, alcohol-free drinks quietly cruised the room, seeing to the needs of the guests.
    He spotted a dark grey dress through the crowd. A shining metallic silver that again had every man's eye, he noted with irritation. At least it was suitably modest tonight. The front covered her to her collarbone. Then she and her dance partner made another turn, and his pulse ratcheted. His fist went into his pocket. Her entire back was on display, framed by a flow of silver material. No one but him had ever seen those particular freckles before last night, he was sure. No one else would see them again, he promised himself. Her partner had only two choices—put his hand on the bare skin of her spine, or too low on her back. Far, far too low.
    Her dance partner's face came into view. A face he knew like his own. Darius. With his Arya. He had never been jealous of his brother until this moment, but now the feeling was all-consuming. Darius was expected to marry a foreign princess, but if he desired the daughter of an ambassador, it was not out of the question. Especially if love was involved, and with Arya, it would have to be. But who would not fall in love with her when he took the time to know her?
    His rage blew through him like a hot desert wind. He fought for control, and only won by telling reminding himself who she was. Arya, who gave herself to him, and no one else. Arya, his sweet friend he had ignored for too long. Now she would have all his attention.
    To calm the strange whirlwind inside him, he planned, as usual. Truly, Arya might be in Darius' arms, but it was only a dance. They were in public, and there was a suitable three inches of space between their bodies. Nothing to worry about.
    Across the room, her father spoke to a member of the Royal Cabinet. Good. He'd been hoping the man would be present tonight. It made things simple and smooth.
    He accepted the glass of hibiscus sharbat a waiter offered him and took a sip. The sweet, flowery drink kept his teeth from clenching. The plan was this: he would wait until Arya and his brother finished the dance, and whisk her into a private corner. There, she would accept his proposal. He knew she would. She saw things so clearly. She had known he was in love with her before he had himself. The whole idea of her sleeping with Darius