Yasmin closed his eyes and his thoughts wandered back to when he’d first met her.

He’d gone to campus late that blustery January night, wanting to familiarize himself with the computer equipment in the lab so he could get a head start on the term project. When he’d walked into the room, expecting to find it empty, the auburn-haired beauty had been sitting jotting down notes. He’d seen her around campus in the fall semester, and had considered asking her out, but she’d seemed shy.

When he started a conversation with her that night, though, she’d been relaxed and chatted easily with him. He’d quickly become enamored of this intelligent, sweet-natured woman.

Rather than leaping at the opportunity to ask her out, however, he’d decided to take it slow. As they’d talked, she’d admitted to struggling with the course material, so he’d suggested they work on the project together.

After that, they’d met regularly at the lab at night. Helping each other. Growing closer.

Sometimes they’d go to the all-night pancake house near campus afterward, and then he’d always insisted on dropping her off at her door—a house where she rented a basement apartment. She’d been charmed by his desire to see her home safely.

And he’d been charmed by everything about her. She was intelligent and had a quirky sense of humor. She was shy, but she liked people, finding the best in everyone. And when she smiled, her eyes lit up like an angel’s.

By the time he’d asked her out on a real date, he was already falling in love with her.

Being with her had a timeless quality. As if they were meant to be together. He enjoyed every first he had with her. The first time they held hands. The first time they kissed.

And he’d longed for that very special first.

Taking her to bed with him.

But, as much as he’d wanted her, he’d held off on taking that step. They were from different cultures and he hadn’t wanted to chance moving too fast and pushing her away.

When he’d finally felt the time was right, he’d planned a special date. An excellent restaurant with a view of the river and a private dining room with a fireplace and soft music.

He’d also filled his apartment with red roses, and even set up a hundred candles and arranged to have someone ready to go in and light them all and put on soft music just before he brought her back there, so he could finally seduce her into his bed.

He’d wanted everything to be perfect. Not just special, but earth shattering. A memory she would cherish for a lifetime.

Their lifetime together.

He’d been prepared to propose marriage that night. He knew it might be too soon for her, but he’d had no doubt that she was the one he was meant to be with. He’d bought the ring and intended to keep it until he had thoroughly swept her off her feet and knew for certain she would not say no. Whether it was that night, or sometime later.

Then she’d shocked him by cancelling their date and telling him she didn’t want to see him again. Ever.

His chest clenched now, just as it had then. He’d been totally devastated.

He sighed, staring at the clear blue sky above him.

He’d often wondered if it had been his fault. That maybe she had somehow found out that he’d bought a ring and been scared off. But even so, it would have been kinder if she’d explained that and told him she wasn’t ready.

But she’d told him she didn’t think it was working between them. That they weren’t compatible.

Fuck, the attraction between them had been so vivid and crackling that there’s no way she could really have believed that. He’d seen it in her eyes. Longing for him. Need.

After she’d broken up with him, she’d avoided him.

So many times anger had built inside him and he’d had to stamp down his urge to confront her. To drag her into his arms and prove to her that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

But he would not force himself on her. He’d seen too much of that with his father and brothers. If they wanted a woman, they just took her. Whether she wanted him or not.

He would not be like that. Ever.

* * *

Yasin returned to his quarters and showered, then dressed in a linen suit to attend the evening celebration his brother had planned for him.

When he entered the large living room he saw that his other brother and three cousins were there. The men sat talking and drinking. The women of the family had not been invited to this celebration.

“There’s my younger brother.” Rahman stood up and shook Yasin’s hand. “It’s been too long.”

“Yes, Omar twisted my arm to come here.”

“Well, a man only turns thirty once,” Ali said raising a glass, then downing the contents. He was clearly half drunk already, which was his typical pattern.

“I had to buy an island, just so he would agree to celebrate with us,” Omar stated with a smile. “But it’s worth it.”

Yasin sat down in a tall-backed armchair. “It’s a lovely island, brother. I’m sure you’ll enjoy many vacations here.”

One of the servants rushed to Yasin’s side and handed him a glass. He sipped it. It was his favorite Scotch, Balvenie, aged fifty years.

This evening, the women serving them wore totally sheer robes with skimpy and colorfully sequined bras and panties underneath.

“Perhaps,” Omar said. “Or maybe I’ll give it away. Youssef seems to have taken a liking to the view.”

“I like the view, too, if you’re giving things away,” Rahman said.

“Ah, well, it’s better not to give it to either of you then. I’d hate to cause strife in the family.”

Yasin noticed that Youssef sent Rahman a scathing gaze and Rahman just shrugged. It was clear he was annoyed, too. Of course, Omar did these things to toy with them. For some reason, he found their jealousy and greed amusing.

Yasin knew that it annoyed Omar that he could not manipulate Yasin in the same way. Yasin was happy with the resources he had on his own, having taken his share of the inheritance from their father and invested it in his own business venture in the U.S. But even if he had nothing, he didn’t care for possessions enough to be held under anyone’s thumb.

As the men talked, servants moved around the room refilling glasses and offering light appetizers. One approached Omar, who sat in the largest chair, and he nodded.

“It is time for dinner,” he announced.

The men stood and followed him across the room to an arched doorway. They sat at a large dining table set with fine bone china and delicate crystal glasses.

Hafsa appeared at Yasin’s side and filled his glass with wine. He thanked her and took a sip. Each of the men had a personal servant assigned to him, so as soon as one course was finished, the empty plate was cleared away, the wine glass refilled, the water replenished.

Ali slid his hand around his servant and squeezed her breast, making her almost drop a plate of salad in his lap. When one of the cherry tomatoes rolled onto the table in front of him, then bounced to the floor, he shouted at her, telling her how stupid she was. Omar said nothing, but when Ali was done, Omar gestured to the head servant, who nodded, then led the poor woman away.

Yasin was quite certain she would be in for some kind of corporal punishment, though whether a spanking at the hands of Omar while naked in his bed that night, or a few lashes of a flogger in front of the other women to make an example of her, Yasin didn’t know. Either way, he was sure Omar would be there to watch.

By the time the entrée was cleared away, the men were fondling their servants quite openly, the sheer robes no barrier at all as they their hands reached inside to cup the soft breasts, their fingers tucking into the bras to fondle what was hidden beneath the sequined fabric. Ali had tugged the new woman serving him onto his lap and his fingers were dipping into her panties. Yasin knew the only reason he hadn’t shoved the woman under the table to suck his cock was because Omar had a strict rule against going that far at the dinner table. What Ali was doing right now was already pushing those boundaries to the limit.

Omar clapped his hands and the men glanced his way.

“We will take coffee and desert on the terrace while we enjoy the entertainment.”

The men released whatever woman they had in their grip. Except for Ali.

Omar’s glare was like a dark storm cloud. “Ali, come and join us.” Everyone could hear the warning tone in his voice.

Ali who was just drunk enough to be reckless, shoved his fingers deep into her panties and slurred, “In a minute. I want to see if I can make her come, despite your stuffy rules.”

From the way his fingers were moving under the fabric, it was clear he was thrusting deep into her with his fingers, his thumb probably stroking her clit. Not that Ali cared about her pleasure. But he knew that if she allowed herself to orgasm while at the dinner table, she would be severely punished. And that sense of power over her excited him.

Yasin stood up and walked toward Ali, then grabbed his arm, staring at him with authority.