Chapter 13

Jasim

I had to leave, had to get away. She was standing so close to me, I could smell her perfume. Not something that comes out of an expensive bottle, but something that’s all her. Coconut oil—probably some type of suntan lotion—some flowery shampoo, and an underlying scent that’s pure woman. But she’s not a woman. She’s just a girl.

And the words she was saying? I couldn’t stop myself imagining me calling for her to be brought to me as a concubine for the night. And when she spoke about women being kept for their master’s pleasure, I immediately started imagining me mastering her and had to get out of there before my swelling cock betrayed me. Damn Kadar for making me see her again. Whatever he fucking says, I’m going to the desert city. Today.

But however much I want to make an escape, I should have known my older brother would have other ideas and thwart my plans. He hadn’t been joking when he said he needed me to spend some time in the capital.

First, he’d arranged meetings with Rais and the desert sheikhs, though why I should meet them here and not closer to their homes, I have no bloody idea. And then there are meetings to sit through with the financiers, and state dinners, welcoming a lost son of Amahad home. A week passes before I can even think of repacking my bags, seven long days spent trying to keep out of her way. One hundred and sixty-eight torturous hours torn between visiting the harem and seeing her again, and equally long nights pleasuring myself, my own hand providing me with little satisfaction but hopefully enough to give me the strength to stay away.

Once, I saw her coming down a corridor, animatedly talking to one of her friends. I’m ashamed to say, using my vast knowledge of the palace, I’d dipped through a concealed door and had hidden myself. Something I’d not thought of doing since my childhood when avoiding my father and, after his passing, had never thought I’d need to employ such a ruse ever again.

Nijad knows, the bastard, he can see right through me. He keeps making unhelpful suggestions that I should check up on the band. Luckily Cara and Zoe are both interested, and have kept us updated with the filming, so there’s been no need for me to intervene. Still, Nijad keeps poking at me; he doesn’t understand why I’m holding back when he realised how she affected me, sometimes I think he can read my mind. Similar in looks we might be, but there I like to believe any resemblance ends. He married an innocent, and has ended up extremely happy. Not in the least envious of my brother’s good fortune, I try to get him to stop trying to push us together. What is his pleasure, would be a prison sentence to my mind.

It’s on the eighth day he comes to find me.

“Brother.” Nijad walks into my suite and pulls me in for a hug, kissing me on both cheeks. “It’s feels right, you being here. Are you settled?”

Tossing a glare at him, I answer, “As well as I can in this mausoleum of a palace. Fuck, Ni. Don’t you remember how fucking badly we wanted to get away?”

Throwing his headdress on to a chair, he goes to the sofa and sits, legs outstretched, his ankles crossed, arms stretched out wide over the back. He regards me for a moment, “You know I do. But I was forced to come back.”

I take a seat opposite him on the other sofa. I’m only too well aware of the circumstances that brought him home. I’d been there. “Do you regret it?”

“How could I?” His eyebrows rise. “I’d never have found Cara. And, brother, believe me, meeting her meant the three years I was banished to the desert was worth it. And now we’ve got Zorah.” His face softens as he refers to his daughter, “I never thought I could feel as at peace as I do now.”

Peace. Was does that feel like, I wonder? I shrug. “That way of life isn’t for me. I own a BDSM club for a reason.”

“Just because you’re a Dom doesn’t mean you have to spread yourself around.”

“You know my preference as to how I like to play, Ni. It’s only in a kink club I can find a woman to match my tastes. And there’s not many I go back to, and none with any strings attached.”

He shakes his head, and his lips purse, “I feel sorry for you, Jas. But don’t cut yourself off. Cara’s a sub, you know that. But she’s all I want and need. She’s my sub.”

“As Zoe is Kadar’s,” I agree. “But I’m different than you, Ni. You know what I’m like.”

“That I do.” His eyes darken for a moment. “We shared the apartment in Paris.”

I feel my cheeks heating as I wonder whether he’s remembering when he was arrested, and the police had found a cupboard containing my toys. He’d accepted ownership of them when questioned, leaving me thankful for that. Being accused of such a violent crime, it was the least of his concerns at the time.

We sit quietly for a moment. It’s rare we’re ever in the same place at the same time, and even rarer that we can take a break from our busy lives. We were so close at one time. Near enough in looks that people think us twins, even though there’s eighteen months difference between us.

“So, the woman.”

I look at him sharply, “What woman?”

“The guitarist. Janna. She’s good you know, I’ve been watching her play. She’s got a real presence about her. She commands the stage.”

I nod, “I know. I’ve seen her in action.” But not here. I’ve successfully managed to avoid that. And now he’s gone and put that memory of her dressed as a Domme strutting her stuff on stage back into my mind. Just what I didn’t need. “She’s not a woman, she’s a girl.” I say, airily, hoping he’ll get off the subject.

He sits forward, his hands on his knees, his head cocked a little to one side, “So are they all, Jasim, until you make them one.”

I flick my eyes toward him, expecting to see amusement on his face, but he’s completely serious, his dark eyes, identical to my own, staring at me intently. I bark a laugh, “For goodness sake, Ni. She’s the same age as Aiza. What the fuck would you say if a thirty-three year old man was sniffing around our baby sister? By Allah, you don’t even like Hunter anywhere near her.”

To my surprise, he opens both his palms and holds them toward me, a gesture of nonchalance. “Aiza could do worse than Hunter. It’s Kadar who’s overprotective. He thinks she should still be playing with dolls.”

“And so she should!” I exclaim, tutting. “She’s barely out of nappies.”

“She’s a grown woman.”

“She’s a girl.” We’re back to that argument.

One side of his mouth turns up as he repeats, “By your definition, she’s a woman.”

My eyes open wide, “What the fuck? Hunter? I’ll fucking kill him.”

Ni gets to his feet, and turns to look straight at me. “No, you won’t, Jas. She’s been playing around for years. Why do you think she rarely comes home? She’s a woman who’s been educated in the west. And she takes up every opportunity that affords her. She’s no innocent. Not anymore.”

I run my hands through my hair, unable to process the information he’s giving me. It seems impossible. My baby sister? Fuck! I lift my head, “Does Kadar know?”

Now Nijad laughs, “Of course he doesn’t. He’s blind to everything she does, unless it’s living out the role he’s got planned for her in his head.”

And if he did know, he’d be furious and certainly want to kill anyone who’d dared to touch her. “I thought he had her lined up to marry Rami, son of Asad, King of Alair. To unite our countries. Rami won’t want her if he knows…”

“Oh, brother, just listen to yourself.” Nijad interrupts, “That was our father’s plan, not Kadar’s. And anyway, there seemed to be a spark between Sheikh Rami and Aiza at my wedding without any prompting. I wouldn’t be surprised if that came off without any meddling from ourselves.”

I shake my head, “He won’t want her if she’s not a virgin.”

Nijad looks at me incredulously, then snorts. “Can you hear yourself, brother? You’re giving values to Rami that you’re dismissing yourself.”

“I own a kink club!” I throw at him, “I need a woman who knows what she’s getting herself into. Who understands my needs.”

“Rami’s a Dom. I’ve met him in clubs in Europe before now. And he’s the same age as me.”

“Fuck!” It’s my turn to stand. I pace the room, trying to sort everything out in my head. If I’d known more of Rami’s background, and that he’s not even two years younger than me, would I still have wanted him as a husband for, what I’d naively assumed was, my virgin baby sister? Would I still have supported our family encouraging the relationship? Part of me says I would, and what does that make me? Someone with double standards and more akin to my father than I’d like to admit.

Picking up his headdress, Nijad prepares to leave. He takes a step toward the door, but then turns back, once again he gives me a piercing look, “I know you, Jasim, almost as well as I know myself. You’re acting out of character. You like this woman, Janna, that’s why you’re avoiding her. And the way she looked at you that first day in the harem, a blind man could see she likes you too. That kind of recipe would have had you acting before, not running away as if your life depended on it.”

“Yeah, but the recipe is all vanilla. And that’s a flavour that doesn’t appeal to me.”

“You won’t know for sure, unless you try a taste.” He stares at me for one more moment, then, with his signature shrug, opens the door and leaves.

I sit back down, folding my arms over my chest. Since when had my younger brother grown the balls to challenge me? It used to be the other way around. Leaning my head back, my mouth turns up. Nijad’s changed over the past few years, almost beyond all recognition. Four years ago, our relationship was smashed to smithereens, and I barely spoken to him up until a year ago, after I helped to clear his name. Those three years in the desert would have broken another man, but Nijad was pulled back from the brink by the woman who believed in him, the woman who became his wife. And what had I been doing in the intervening time? Working my way through most of the subs in London, and further afield. And I’m still not ready to be tied down, and doubt I’ll ever be. I like that side of my life too much to give it up.

Whatever this strange draw to Janna is, it will disappear when I get home and back to the club. What’s making it worse is that here, in my homeland, I’m restricted as to what I can do. As brother of the emir, my every move is scrutinised and examined. No, the only action I’m going to see until I return home will have to be a continued close relationship with my own hand. Just like how I indulged myself when I was a teenager. Nothing much changes here in the palace.

Janna, is most definitely out of bounds. She’d expect and deserve more than the one night stand I’d be able to give her. And it wouldn’t be fair of me to indulge her sheikh fantasy, I’d be holding myself back. I’m not even sure I could do that. What is vanilla sex, anyway? Placing my hands on my knees, I try to remember. Have I ever had sex without any play? Fuck me, but I can’t remember.

Another few days of a semi-peaceful existence pass, and then I’m thrust into her presence again. Though it’s frustrated Kadar, I’ve stayed away from the harem and the filming that’s going on, but he can’t complain as I’ve been working hard at the job he brought me here to do. And when he asks, I just tell him, Anarchy Rules has everything under control, they’ve got my number should they need anything, and anyway, what do I know about making a film? Zilch. Bugger all.

Even Nijad, thankfully, stops trying to push me into the arms of a woman I’m trying to avoid. Any nefarious planning about finding me a mate seems to be given up as a failure. The day is fast approaching when they’ll be able to make no more excuses and I’ll be free to escape to the desert city, and put myself a few hundred miles distant from the woman who insists on appearing in my dreams. And fuelling the activities of my hand.

Then, the morning before I’m going to make my getaway, the phone rings. I answer with no feeling of dread, no precognition that, once again, my plans are going awry.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Your Excellency. Sorry to disturb you, but it’s Joe here, with the band.”

“Good morning, Joe. What can I do for you? And call me Jasim, please.”

“Thank you. Could you possibly meet us in the harem? We’ve something we want to run past you.”

I glance at my watch, and mentally run through my schedule. It’s not what I want to do, but my morning’s fairly empty and while I could fabricate an excuse, I don’t normally lie. “I can be there in an hour if that’s any use?”

Having agreed that would be perfect, he ends the call. Hmm. Is it too much to hope that she won’t be there? Probably.

Sixty minutes later, having tried to mentally prepare myself to see her again, I push open the large golden doors and step inside, my eyes widening at the transformation since I was last here. Lighting rigs have been set up all around, there’s a stage area that’s been erected, and cables running everywhere. The band members are grouped around a screen, animated and making comments, pointing and gesticulating, but obviously pleased with what they’re watching.

I clear my throat to get their attention as I make my way across.

“Hey, Jasim. Thank you so much for joining us.”

“No problem.” I point to the screen where I can see, and hear, what I assume is the completed video playing. “Is it done?” I sincerely hope so. If it is, she’ll be out of my life and I’ll never have to see her again. Perhaps then I’ll be able to get my life back on track.

And it’s Janna who swings round, her face open and smiling, “Not quite, Jasim. We’ve had some ideas and need some help to move forward. You said we should come to you if we wanted anything.”

Feeling my breathing quicken with just one look at her face, I ignore it, waving my hand in encouragement. “What do you need?” I address my question to all of them, not just to her.

Mickey steps forward. “We’ve completed what we need to do here. But we want to add some elements in, something authentic. We could use CGI, but…”

“It wouldn’t be the same.” The look Janna tosses him suggests they’ve already been over this.

“Okay,” I start again, “What is it you want?”

Now it’s Rory’s turn. “Camel racing, horse racing. Something that has the sand of the desert flying up and robed men riding.”

“Chasing a woman.” Janna adds with a grin.

“And capturing her. Sweeping her up onto horseback.” Liam finishes, his eyes glazing over as though he can see it happening in his mind.

I start to get a bad feeling. “And the woman would be…”

“Me,” Janna states proudly.

Shit. I didn’t need that image in my head, and the inevitable reaction of my body has me slighting widening my stance to hide it. I turn half away to give myself a chance to think. What they’re asking isn’t impossible, but only the desert sheikhs and their warriors ride like that. Could I ask them to come to Al Qur’ah? And transport the horses here? Or use the ones in the palace stables?

Rais. Rais would be up for it. And quite capable of literally sweeping a woman off her feet and into his arms. But he’s a widower. Her age might not bother him, her innocence a gift. No, on second thoughts Rais is a very bad idea.

“Your brother mentioned you were going to Z̧almā, and that the southern desert would be the place to get the best shots.”

I sigh deeply, I might have known Nijad would have had his hand in this. And there I’d been thinking he’d given up. “I’m going to the desert to work, I’m afraid I won’t have much time to set something like this up.”

Joe looks disappointed, but isn’t ready to give up. “Wouldn’t you be able to at least make some introductions? We can take it from there.”

They don’t know what they’re asking. They’ll need interpreters, security. Health and safety isn’t much cared about in the south, so someone will have to watch out for her… them, I hastily correct myself. But how can I refuse? Despite what I’ve said, my agenda’s not written in stone, as Kadar and Nijad both know. Part of my visit is to be seen, for the tribespeople to know that the second Kassis brother hasn’t totally deserted them. And as I think on that, I know Kadar will think that it’s an excellent plan.

“We’ll need to arrange transport. There’s a lot of people to take.”

“Oh, no, we’re not all going,” Mickey looks like he’s telling me good news. “Only Janna and Sally. We don’t need to do sound. We’ll stay here to wrap up, and to start clearing all the stuff.”

Fuck. I scratch my chin as I wonder how the hell I’m going to get out of this. Shaking my head doubtfully, I summon up the first excuse I can think of, “There’s not room on the helicopter for both of you and your equipment.

“I won’t take up much space,” Now it’s Sally who blasts my last excuse out of the water, “I’ve only got a handheld camera and tripod, that’s all I’ll need. We’ll do all the editing back home.”

Double fuck! I’d planned on flying myself, and it’s a four seater. Who am I kidding? There’ll be plenty of room. Kadar’s tasked me with making sure Anarchy Rules have everything they need. Would that extend to arranging for them to film in the desert? Shit. Knowing him, it probably would.

“I leave tomorrow,” I try one last approach, “If you’ve not finished here…”

“We’ve finished.” Mickey speaks for them all. “While Janna and Sally have gone, we’ll do the rest of the editing and with the other camera, do some other backdrop filming. We want some footage of the souk.”

“And the sea.” Rory butts in, Sunny’s standing in front of him, her back to his chest. His head’s resting on hers, and his mouth nuzzles her hair. It’s a touching tableau, and a strange feeling comes over me, realising I’ve never had a relationship like that with a woman. What would it be like to have Janna in my arms? Not just for sex, but for comfort and company? That I’ve even asked myself the question reminds me again just how dangerous it would be to spend time with her.

“As I said before, I’ve got a strict timetable to adhere to when I get to Z̧almā, I don’t, I was just going to play it by ear, “I won’t have time to do anything more than get in touch with one of the tribes and arrange a meeting for you.”

Janna’s eyes have narrowed. Somehow, she knows I’m lying. Have I a tell I don’t know about? “That’s fine,” her answer’s dismissive, “that’s all we can ask.”

Feeling I’ve been backed into a corner, I can’t see any way out. I’d hoped to put hundreds of miles between us, and now I’m going to be forced into her company again. There’s no point appealing to Kadar, and if he finds I’ve refused their quite reasonable request, I could expect a tongue lashing. Which I’d rightly deserve, being unable to offer a rational explanation. Backed into a corner, I say the only thing left to me. “We leave in the morning. Meet me at the helipad at ten o’clock.