Chapter Four
“My God, Olivia, have you any idea which delicious dish you were entertaining tonight?” Celeste asked, the pride creeping into her voice. “That was Rami Zaman, as in Zaman Enterprises, as in the Sheikh of Yomarani and the owner of Aladdin’s Den and the rest of the casino. My goodness, sweetie, when you want to cut loose, you certainly know how to pick them. I’m actually quite impressed.”
Olivia slumped down in the sofa of the hotel suite she shared with Celeste. “Wait, what? No, he said he was just a business associate of the owner.”
“Darling, it’s my job to know anybody who’s anyone in the fashion industry. He has a younger sister who has her own up-and-coming fashion line. Trust me, that wasn’t just an associate of the Den’s owner. He was the owner. Also, he’s a terrific catch. His net worth makes Oprah Winfrey look poor, if you know what I mean. He’s in real estate now, but his family first hit it massively in oil, and I can barely count all those zeroes.”
Olivia rubbed at her temples, even as she anticipated one of the largest headaches of all time coming on. “You can’t be serious. I just…we were talking and he introduced me to this too good to be real drink and one thing led to another…and I did not just embarrass myself in front of royalty!”
Celeste grinned. “Maybe on top of royalty too. I don’t think you did, pigeon. If anything, Rami looked just as thrilled to have you there as you looked to be there, at least until you seemed to sober up a bit. You have to admit that he’s a dreamy dish if ever there was one. Did you get his number? You definitely need to call him as soon as you can. Sparks like that, my dear? They have to mean something.”
“Yes, that I was too drunk to act like a reasonable adult, and he and his associates must be laughing at me behind my back.” She slumped lower on the sofa and tried to ignore the pounding headache now rioting through her mind. “I don’t have his number. We were on a first-name basis to begin with, and I had no idea he was a sheikh.”
Celeste quirked her head back at her, the model’s eyes going wide as a newborn doe’s. “What?”
“I didn’t know. How would little old me ever be good enough for royalty anyway!”
Celeste shook her head. “Of course you could. You were. He was completely spellbound by you.”
“Maybe because I let him finger me,” she said, her tone clipped. “I just made a fool of myself with one of the most powerful men on Earth.” Olivia threw an arm over her eyes, no longer wanting to deal with the world around her and hoping that blocking the light would keep her migraine at bay. “I’m such an idiot.”
“Hmmm, do tell.”
She shook her head but didn’t remove her arm from her face. “Celeste, I love you. You’re my best friend, but I’m not like you. I’m not good at being daring. That’s not me, not at all, and now he must think I’m a wild and crazy party girl when I’m not. Worse, maybe that’s the only reason he likes me at all!”
Celeste slipped over to her and patted her shoulder. “I don’t think that’s true at all. In fact, we need to get up to the presidential suite and see him ourselves, explain the whole thing.”
“How do you know he’s staying here?”
“Please, it was all over the gossip sites, and it is his casino and club. It would be in poor taste if he wasn’t staying here on the opening night as well. Add in the fact that he’s the wealthiest man here and anything less than the best would be an insult, and of course he’s on the top floor penthouse suite, or presidential quarters, or whatever you’d like to call it. A man like Rami Zaman requires the best, and being up on the top floor overlooking the great capital city of Buhaba is exactly what he needs.”
“So sure, we’ll just get to the top floor of the elevator you use with a key, blow past his security, and talk to him at what?” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “At three a.m. and convince him that I’m both sorry and to give me a chance when I’m not acting like some crazy sex kitten. That sounds completely possible and not at all crazy.”
Celeste shook her head, her hair flaring out behind her like the halo of some avenging angel. “You bolted, and that happens, but you obviously made a connection with him.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I wasn’t being glib. I think that I’ve rarely seen you as free and untethered as I did when I stumbled upon both of you. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you looked happy, and I’ve missed that look on my friend. If that’s what you need to be really living in life, then be that wild woman with the sheikh. If it makes you smile like that, then it can’t be wrong.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I would. I haven’t seen you this head over heels or happy in over a year.”
“Part of that is not having to see Monsieur Labelle.”
“But you haven’t been grinning this widely since we left New York. I know exactly what this means.” With that, her friend pulled out a small key that had been hidden in her dress. “This is why I always plan ahead.”
“What is that?”
“The elevator master key. I make a habit of flirting with the concierge on call in case I ever need access that even my gorgeous face can’t get normally. A few batted eyelashes and laughs on cue, and it’s easy to pickpocket exactly what you need. I got into legendary trouble in Paris doing this.”
“Celeste!” she hissed. “We have to return that.”
Her friend grinned, a smile so devilish and far too encouraging. Celeste was definitely the imp on her shoulder urging her toward bad decisions. “We will, but first, we will find your dream sheikh and we will make the right impression.”
***
Her heart pounded against her chest so hard that Olivia felt as if she were going to pass out. Hell, it felt as if her heart could possibly tear through her sternum right then. While Celeste was using her wiles to distract the two bodyguards on duty (she’d claimed she was lost and then put on her “I always depend on the kindness of strangers” act), Olivia had used the master key and card from her devious friend to sneak into the suite of one Sheikh Rami Zaman. Now in the darkness, she had no idea what her plan was going to be. Did it make her look more or less stable to apologize if that included busting into his quarters at four a.m.? She wanted to genuinely say sorry for running off and being so, well, amorous earlier. However, there was a limit to how long even Celeste could keep the bodyguards at bay. She had her wiles, but they had a sheikh to protect.
Assuming he was still in.
In the expansive darkness of the suite, she wasn’t sure he was even around. Gathering her courage and forcing her fear away, she crept farther into the suite and squinted her eyes, trying to suss out things through the darkness.
“Oh, hello? Rami? It’s Olivia. I’m so sorry, and I just wanted to…” She trailed off, not sure what the next thing to say would be. Was there anything she could say that would make her plan, well, Celeste’s plan, less nuts? But upset over ditching him and still buzzed from her drinks, the covert mission seemed like a good idea. Hell, “it seemed like a good idea at the time” was the whole theme for her evening, but she’d come this far. She just needed to see him one last time. To try and set things right between them. “Are you here?”
There came the quick patter of feet from the far room, and she turned to see Rami standing in the doorway. He still had his pants on, the ones that seemed to be cut with the very intention of showing off all of him, the ones that hung low on his hips. Rami was shirtless, however, and as he clicked on the overhead light, Olivia couldn’t help but gasp at the sight before her. His chest was as broad as she imagined it would be under the fine tailoring of his suit, but she hadn’t dared to imagine the beautiful planes of his body, the ridges of the eight pack that glimmered under the lamp overhead.
She licked her lips and tried to remember how to breathe. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded with what seemed like a god come to life standing before her.
Rami didn’t seem shocked, more like bemused. Twisting his neck toward her, he grinned back at Olivia. “Alright, luv, color me surprised.” Again, that British lilt bleeding into his speech, and now that she knew he was a sheikh---no, the sheikh of Yomarani---Olivia wondered how widely traveled he was. For all she knew, he’d gone to college at Oxford and picked up the accent there. “What are you doing here?”
She took a deep breath and stepped forward until only a few feet separated them. Olivia was so close that it was a struggle not to reach out and stroke the ridges of his abdomen. “I left things so badly before. I didn’t mean to.”
“I think you made it pretty clear when you saw your friend and ran off with her.” He stood stock still, as rigid as a statue, and with the gorgeous lines of his body, she could almost see him as a work carved by Michelangelo himself. It made her long to touch him all the more. “I’ve never had a woman run away from me like that. The way you screamed didn’t seem to indicate you hated what happened, not in the least.”
She frowned back at him as an easy, complacent smile played across his face.
“Wait?” she asked. “You aren’t mad, are you?”
“On the contrary,” he said, crossing the distance between them and cupping both her cheeks with his massive palms. “I’m intrigued. I’ve never had anyone so flawlessly thwart my security before, and I’ve certainly never had a woman come back for me. Does this mean you regret more than just being rude? A note would have sufficed for an apology.”
She felt her breath hitch as she took in the scent of him----that musk that was purely male and purely him as well as the hint of cloves that tickled her nostrils. He was as exotic and appealing as the entire country of Yomarani, and definitely as unpredictable. Her heart was beating a rapid tattoo as he bent down and kissed her, his tongue playing with her own, stroking hers with a fierce rhythm. Olivia moaned again, this time under the aphrodisiac of his talented tongue and not under the spell of the cocktails at Aladdin’s Den. Maybe she had to come to terms with the fact that she was just easier than she’d ever imagined, at least when the right man was involved. Pressing up against his body, she reveled in the solid nature of his length pressing up against her belly once again. It was as if time stood still, and she didn’t need to hurry back out to relieve Celeste from her distraction duties. All that mattered currently were them being together, whether their bodies were entwined, as if fate were leading them to each other.
Then there was a loud bang, and she recoiled as the two huge bodyguards and several others stomped into the room. One of them was dragging Celeste by her wrist. To their right was an older man with a long, neatly groomed white beard. His eyes were blazing in anger, and that expression left her heart plummeting into her stomach. Before she could object, one of those massive and burly guards rushed forward and snatched her as well. Olivia screamed and fought against him, but it would have been easier to push against granite.
Sheikh Zaman’s nostrils flared, like a bull readying to surge forward, as he regarded the older man. “Waheed, what’s going on here?”
“I came back from ensuring the club had been closed properly, and imagine my shock when I found that harlot distracting your soon-to-be-fired Secret Service agents and the door wide open. I rushed in here thinking that you’d been attacked, and I’m not sure that I’m wrong.”
Rami shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. I know that Olivia didn’t mean any harm.”
“You know, or you wish? What I see is a woman that manipulated her way to get close to you earlier tonight, and now she’s snuck into your private quarters. You know how dangerous the rebels can be, how wily. Who’s to say that they haven’t put threats in more attractive packages lately?”
She shuddered but turned back to Rami. “You can’t be serious. Celeste and I…we’re not terrorists or rebels or anything like that. Hell, look her up. Celeste is one of the most famous models working today.”
“I am,” she said. “A quick Google search will clear this all up.”
Waheed crossed his arms over his chest. “Anyone can be compromised, sire, much like your judgment. I can’t let you dismiss this. These women both put you in a dangerous position. They have to be taken into custody.”
“I don’t want that,” Rami said.
“As head of your security force and your chief advisor, I cannot allow this to slide. A sneak attack on the sheikh is an attack on all of Yomarani. So, Asan and Rajul, take them away!”