sense of personal freedom was disappearing fast, like an elusive shimmering oasis in the desert. ‘But—’ She’d started to protest, but had been cut off.
‘That’s non-negotiable. As of this moment you are under my protection. It’s simply too dangerous for you to proceed as you have done. You’re about to be married to one of the biggest fortunes in the world, not to mention the fact thatyou can also lay claim to one of the world’s last remaining untapped oil bounties.’
At least, thought Samia with a hint of hysteria, she didn’t have to worry that Sadiq was marrying her for her money! Any lingering sense of anonymity was a delicate thread about to break for ever.
Five days later
Sadiq was in the waiting area of one of the private dressing suites in London’s most exclusive department store. Samia had been spirited away to somewhere within the labyrinthine rooms to be fitted out in a range of designer outfits, while he was waited upon hand and foot by a veritable army of beautiful women, all of whom were making their interest glaringly obvious.
The latest blonde offered him an array of newspapers and he picked one. She lingered far too long, causing Sadiq to bid her a curt thank-you. Once, not so long ago, he would have looked and decided if she was worth bedding. But not today, and never again.
That thought didn’t fill him with the claustrophobia he might have expected. He had to admit that his resolve to stay faithful wasn’t entirely down to the fact that he was about to be married but because curiosity and desire just weren’t there.
He hadn’t seen Samia again until he’d picked her up that morning. He’d told himself that he had to come with her because, after seeing her wardrobe, he couldn’t trust that she would pick appropriate outfits. He conveniently ignored the fact that she’d been assigned a stylist with plenty of experience.
Samia had been waiting outside her apartment building, her hair tied back and looking pale and haunted in fadedjeans, a light long-sleeved top and jacket. More unadorned than the servants who worked for him at the Hussein castle in B’harani. He’d had to quell irritation and also the disturbing flare of desire. Her jeans clung lovingly to slim legs and a pertly plump bottom. And the thin material of her top showed him again that her breasts were well shaped and more generous than he’d first assumed.
He’d reassured himself that his burgeoning desire for his fiancée was purely his head instructing his body to feel something for the only woman he would sleep with ever again, but the anticipation firing up his blood made a mockery of that assertion.
When he’d formally asked Samia to marry him after their dinner, he’d been overcome with a sense of desperation that she should agree—the first time he’d felt anything like it. or the first time in a long time. And he hadn’t welcomed it.
A curious sense of fear tightened his body now, as he heard the whisper of movement which meant his fiancée was returning to parade the first of her outfits for his pleasure. He’d decided that Princess Samia would make him a good, uncomplicated wife, and suddenly the road ahead seemed paved with complications he’d not accounted for.
Samia wanted to yank the silver sheath excuse for a dress up over her bust and down over her knees, but was too intimidated by the personal shopper who reminded her painfully of her stepmother. Looking her up and down while she’d stood there in her plain underwear, she’d muttered something like,
‘Well, there’s not much we can do. You ‘re too short for most of these dresses …’
Battling back trepidation at the thought of being paraded in front of Sadiq like a slave girl at an auction, Samia fixed her gaze forward, determined not to see the undoubtedlydisappointed expression on his face. She’d not even looked at herself in the numerous mirrors.
They emerged into the waiting room and Samia was aware of the big,
‘That’s non-negotiable. As of this moment you are under my protection. It’s simply too dangerous for you to proceed as you have done. You’re about to be married to one of the biggest fortunes in the world, not to mention the fact thatyou can also lay claim to one of the world’s last remaining untapped oil bounties.’
At least, thought Samia with a hint of hysteria, she didn’t have to worry that Sadiq was marrying her for her money! Any lingering sense of anonymity was a delicate thread about to break for ever.
Five days later
Sadiq was in the waiting area of one of the private dressing suites in London’s most exclusive department store. Samia had been spirited away to somewhere within the labyrinthine rooms to be fitted out in a range of designer outfits, while he was waited upon hand and foot by a veritable army of beautiful women, all of whom were making their interest glaringly obvious.
The latest blonde offered him an array of newspapers and he picked one. She lingered far too long, causing Sadiq to bid her a curt thank-you. Once, not so long ago, he would have looked and decided if she was worth bedding. But not today, and never again.
That thought didn’t fill him with the claustrophobia he might have expected. He had to admit that his resolve to stay faithful wasn’t entirely down to the fact that he was about to be married but because curiosity and desire just weren’t there.
He hadn’t seen Samia again until he’d picked her up that morning. He’d told himself that he had to come with her because, after seeing her wardrobe, he couldn’t trust that she would pick appropriate outfits. He conveniently ignored the fact that she’d been assigned a stylist with plenty of experience.
Samia had been waiting outside her apartment building, her hair tied back and looking pale and haunted in fadedjeans, a light long-sleeved top and jacket. More unadorned than the servants who worked for him at the Hussein castle in B’harani. He’d had to quell irritation and also the disturbing flare of desire. Her jeans clung lovingly to slim legs and a pertly plump bottom. And the thin material of her top showed him again that her breasts were well shaped and more generous than he’d first assumed.
He’d reassured himself that his burgeoning desire for his fiancée was purely his head instructing his body to feel something for the only woman he would sleep with ever again, but the anticipation firing up his blood made a mockery of that assertion.
When he’d formally asked Samia to marry him after their dinner, he’d been overcome with a sense of desperation that she should agree—the first time he’d felt anything like it. or the first time in a long time. And he hadn’t welcomed it.
A curious sense of fear tightened his body now, as he heard the whisper of movement which meant his fiancée was returning to parade the first of her outfits for his pleasure. He’d decided that Princess Samia would make him a good, uncomplicated wife, and suddenly the road ahead seemed paved with complications he’d not accounted for.
Samia wanted to yank the silver sheath excuse for a dress up over her bust and down over her knees, but was too intimidated by the personal shopper who reminded her painfully of her stepmother. Looking her up and down while she’d stood there in her plain underwear, she’d muttered something like,
‘Well, there’s not much we can do. You ‘re too short for most of these dresses …’
Battling back trepidation at the thought of being paraded in front of Sadiq like a slave girl at an auction, Samia fixed her gaze forward, determined not to see the undoubtedlydisappointed expression on his face. She’d not even looked at herself in the numerous mirrors.
They emerged into the waiting room and Samia was aware of the big,
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