Sold to the Sheikh by Chloe Cox Page B

Robert, of course. Robert used to make her attend events that were almost like this, had dragged her along as a necessary accessory while he tried to conduct business. Only he had always been disappointed in her, and had inevitably laughed her off in the same derisive tone that Creighton had used. He’d hated how naïve she was, how, in his words, everyone could read her face like an open book. Robert would explain to her over and over again that information was the currency of the broker business, and he needed a poker player by his side, not a patsy.
    There were so many parallels, and yet she’d been enjoying herself up until this moment, even with Creighton there. Why? What was so different about the Sheikh?
    The Sheikh . It was still too absurd.
    Stella’s mind whirred back to life as she collected the drinks and began to make her way back to the little private room with the sliding paneled doors. She had enjoyed the non-thinking, physically present respite she got with the Sheikh, but it seemed important that she figure this out. Thinking about Robert had deflated her mood a little, and she was angry about that. She wanted to hold onto the high that the Sheikh gave her, even if she didn’t understand it completely. Even if it was, in its way, sort of horrifyingly embarrassing. It was still the one bright spot in the past few horrible months, and she only had the weekend, after all.
    What was it about him? She couldn’t help but think about the Sheikh’s promise: she would beg. She would come on his command. She would submit. What did that even mean? She felt she’d submitted pretty well so far; wasn’t that good enough? What did he want? What did she have to do to get him to…
    Wow, Stella thought. I’m seriously trying to figure out how to get him to fuck me. It was incredible that she was thinking like this when he had promised to pay her for the privilege. The Sheikh really was naturally dominant, naturally powerful. She couldn’t help but think about how best to serve him.
    Or maybe I truly am submissive.
    That thought struck her just as she slid open the door with her foot and slipped into the room, and it might have thrown her for a loop if she didn’t already feel two pairs of eyes on her. She didn’t want to embarrass the Sheikh, or herself. She didn’t want to fail at her task, and she didn’t want to reveal herself to be a confused, muddled mess inside, not to someone like Creighton, just for reasons of pride, and especially not to Sheikh Bashir, for reasons that Stella knew were best left unexamined at the moment.
    Focus on the task at hand , she thought. Focus on serving him .
    That this was part of their arrangement, for lack of a better word, that she was obeying a direct command from the Sheikh, imbued every little gesture with a significance it wouldn’t normally have had. As she walked over to where the two men sat in those wide leather chairs, she let her hips swing and pushed her breasts out. She took pride in the way she bent at the waist and gracefully extended her arm, not caring that Creighton leered at her. This was for the Sheikh. This was part of the game.
    And the sight of him, straight backed, hands gripping either armrest, his tailored suit jacket open and relaxed, revealing a crisp white shirt stretched taut over that broad chest…
    It was enough to take any woman’s breath away.
    She tried not to tremble as she held his drink forward, and, as he took it, she moved her finger up the side of the glass, just to touch him again.
    Wow, Stella, get a hold of yourself. This is not middle school .
    But the Sheikh knew. From the curl of his lip, she could tell he knew.
    “Well done,” he said, and Stella smiled.
    Then came Creighton’s voice from behind her. “I’d love for my bitch ex-wife to see me with a piece like that, waiting on me hand and foot,” he said. “Just to see her face. Didn’t give her a damn thing in the divorce, either. She probably is waiting