Bought by The Sheikh Read online

  And he pressed his lips to hers, while his hands worked to free her from her dress. It was not easy, but somehow, he pulled it until she was exposed and naked beneath him. Later, Julia would discover that the dress had been ripped beyond repair but in that moment, she was aware of nothing but the feel of his hands on her skin, as he felt every inch of her. His tongue roamed where his hands had left off, and a fever pitch of need screamed inside her.

  “Zayn,” she groaned, as the tip of his penis nudged at her core. She needed him, but she needed him to know that she was not experienced. Not in any way. She tried to focus her mind, but his teeth were grazing her nipple, making any thought or speech impossible. She lay back down against the soft mattress and surrendered to the wave of sensation that was roaring through her.

  She wanted him, and he was glad. But he couldn’t get the pictures out of his mind. Photographs of her with her friend Andrew, when she had been committed to him, Zayn. He had sworn to himself that day that he would make her pay, but, in a moment of stark clarity, he realized this was not the way. His feelings were more complex than even he understood, but he knew that making love to her now was unforgivable. If he thought there was a chance that he might ever want a genuine relationship with this woman, he couldn’t expect her to be able to justify what he’d been intending to do.

  He couldn’t expect her to forgive him for taking her body when he’d used money to buy it.

  With an oath, he pulled away from her. She looked like he’d robbed her of something. Her face was a study of shocked disappointment as she registered that his body was no longer in contact with hers.

  “What… what happened?” She asked, her eyes drawn of their own accord to his still taught body.

  “I have never paid for sex. I realize now that it doesn’t appeal to me.” He turned away from her and walked across the floor, so that he could stare at the twinkling lights of the city below them.

  Julia lay there, stunned, gaping up at the stars. It took several minutes for her body to start to feel even remotely normal. Tiny little fires of need were raging throughout and she had to wait for each and every one of them to extinguish. When she finally felt more or less like herself, she stood from the bed. With fingers that shook, she pulled her underpants on. With a frown, she scooped the dress up, but it was split at the seam, so all she could do was hold it against her chest.

  “I don’t understand,” she said quietly, walking over to Zayn, though it took all her courage to do so after his swift removal.

  When he turned to look at her, his face was cold, his eyes bleak. “Don’t you?”

  She shook her head, and her hair caught the moonlight as it moved with her. “No. I thought you wanted me.” It hurt her to say it. After all, she’d promised herself that whatever else might happen between them, she would keep her pride intact. That she would not beg him for more than he wanted to give her.

  “I thought I did, too.”

  “Then … what happened?”

  Insolently, he raked his gaze over her, taking in the swell of cleavage visible behind the dress she’d bundled against herself. He crossed the room and scooped his shirt off the floor and tossed it towards her. “Put this on.”

  On autopilot, she did as he’d suggested and slid the shirt over her head. It came down to her mid-thighs and swallowed her with its size.

  “Zayn? What happened?”

  “I realized that a woman willing to lay down for money is cheap, no matter what the price.”

  His words hurt so much he might as well have stabbed her. Tears stung her eyes and despite her determination not to degrade herself in front of him, she let them fall.

  “How dare you?” She whispered, but instead of sounding angry, it came out as a sob.

  “I dare because you’ve just demonstrated how lax your morals are. My God, to think I once believed I desired you.”

  Julia’s cheeks glowed pink. If only he knew how morally intact she was. A few more seconds and he would have known.

  “You did this,” she said stonily. “You put me in this position. What did you expect me to do?”

  “Not to fall into my bed on the first night I suggested it.” He was handling everything terribly, and he knew it, but it was like a juggernaught he couldn’t stop. He had hurt her, and he was hurting her still. And the fact that he longed to pull her into his arms and apologize and kiss away her tears was making him angrier and somehow more determined to push her away.

  “You’re one to talk! You must have slept your way through half of Europe by now, and yet you have the nerve to lecture me on my morals?”

  “Yes. It’s a double standard. And one I’m happy to apply to my wife.”

  “Well, we seem to be at an impasse,” she snapped. “We’re married but it doesn’t look like sex is on the table. That’s fine by me, by the way,” she lied, “but you’re the one who made a point of specifying that ours would be a ‘real’ marriage.”

  “I didn’t understand then how much of a turn-off it would be, to have a woman willing to have sex for money, in my bed.” He shrugged.

  Julia had been raised to have impeccable manners, but she swore at him then. It was one step away from what she really wanted to do, which was to punch him hard in the stomach. “You know you’re painting me in a bad light. I would never have sex for money. I don’t know why you’re reducing us to that equation, but it’s not fair.”

  “It’s the truth, isn’t it? Would you have married me without the financial inducements?”

  She would have. In a heartbeat. At least, she would have married the Zayn she’d known years earlier, who had dazzled her with his intelligence, power, and sexy sweetness. If he’d shown up, she wouldn’t have been able to resist him. But instead, this despot had arrived in his place. And though her lust was as unshakable as ever, she couldn’t let him know that money wasn’t really the reason she’d agreed to their marriage. It had affected her timeline, certainly, but there was no reality imaginable in which Julia would be able to resist Zayn.

  She shook her head wistfully. “I guess we’ll never know.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I know. I’ve known women like you all my life. I just never thought I’d end up married to one.”

  She lifted her eyes to his, confusion and sadness in her heart. “What are you saying?”

  He was silent as he took in her ravaged face. “I’m saying… I’m going out. Don’t wait up.” He stormed away from her without a backwards glance. He was afraid that if he looked at her again, he’d weaken. And he couldn’t afford to be weak with this woman.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  She didn’t know if he came back. He hadn’t had the courtesy to show her to her bedroom, and she couldn’t have borne sleeping on the roof, in the romantic matrah that smelled of him. And she had way too much pride to admit to a servant that she didn’t know where the hell her bedroom was. And so she’d slept in the first room she’d found. It was definitely not his room, going from the distinctly neutral décor and lack of possessions. A guest room, she supposed, and that suited her fine. There was no lingering Zayn-ness there to make her heart weep.

  After the tumult of the previous week, and the upset of that night, Julia had thought she would find sleep impossible, but it wasn’t. She was bone-weary, and almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep dreamless sleep. So deep that she wasn’t aware of Zayn opening the door somewhere before dawn. He stood and watched her silently. Watched as her chest rose and fell rhythmically; as the lighting outside changed and the skein of moonlight across her face gave way to an apricot and peach hue. He watched her and he wondered what the hell he was going to do with his beautiful prisoner.

  He had worked for four years to get her into his home. Now he had her, and he didn’t know what to do with her. That night was the first time he realized something important. It was not worth having anything that wasn’t freely given. Their marriage wasn’t worth the paper it had been printed on. His victory was most definitely a
hollow one.

  Not by a flicker in his face did he betray his feelings later that day, when Julia came to his office. Per his instructions, her suitcases had been taken to her in the guest room she’d chosen the night before, and she was dressed in one of the outfits he’d given her before the wedding. He had selected premiere labels, and at the time, he’d sneered, because he had known Julia Cosgrove-Howard had been raised to want only the best in life. But seeing her in the pale pant suit now, he realized he’d also instinctively selected outfits that flattered her dainty proportions.

  With a frown at the quick response of his body, and the way her appearance reminded him what her skin felt like beneath the clothes, he said, “Good morning, Julia. Can I help you with something?”

  So formal; so polite, and yet there was hostility there too.

  She would not let him intimidate her. After all, she’d walked into their marriage with her eyes open, and she wasn’t going to let him cower her.

  “I thought I might go out,” she said with a confidence she was far from feeling.

  His frown was brief. “Whatever for?”

  “This city is to be my home now. I thought I should go and explore it.”

  “While I appreciate your willingness to immerse yourself in your new life, it isn’t possible.”

  She lifted a brow. “Are you actually telling me I’m not allowed to go out, Zayn?”

  “Don’t be facile. It is not a question of permission. You cannot go alone, and I am too busy to take you this morning.”

  She compressed her lips in annoyance. “Don’t I have security people who can escort me?”

  He let out a sigh of annoyance. “They are too busy to indulge your every whim.” It was a lie. His security staff would do whatever he asked of them, and that courtesy and duty included his wife. But for some reason he couldn’t fathom, he didn’t want her exploring the city without him. He had fantasized about showing it to her himself, only he was in no mood to play tourist guide that morning.

  “Fine.” She muttered. “Have it your way.” She went to storm out of his office in what she had hoped would be a truly dramatic departure, only she stubbed her toe on the edge of a chair and wailed in pain, as her whole body instantly felt the reverberation.

  With an oath in his own language, Zayn came to her side and pulled her into his arms. He was surprised to see that she was crying again. He had not remembered her being so emotional before.

  “Are you dying?” He drawled teasingly, but she surprised him again by punching him hard, on his left pectoral muscle.

  “Shut up,” she said through her tears. “Just shut up.”

  “Shhh,” he murmured, pulling her against his chest and running his hands through her hair. And despite the insults he’d thrown at her the night before, his whole body was begging to be pressed to hers.

  He couldn’t help it. Slowly, gently, he lifted her face to his. The misery he saw there made him question everything he’d ever done to the woman. With a stifled groan, he kissed her, sensually moving his lips over hers and trying to take away some of the pain she felt. Even if it was a temporary solution.

  “Don’t cry, Julia,” he said against her lips, as his hands moved down her body. He lifted her camisole from the waistband of her pants, so that his hands were on her bare back, feeling the warmth of her fair skin.

  “Another order?” She intoned huskily, but her arms crept up and wound around his neck. It was an innocent gesture, but it brought her breasts hard against his chest and he ached to feel their softness in his mouth once more.

  “I don’t like it when you cry,” he answered honestly, and to underscore his point, he thumbed away the tears that were falling from her eyes.

  “I don’t usually cry this much,” she responded with artless truth. Her statement made his heart contract painfully.

  “Is marriage to me so unbearable?” He shouldn’t have asked the question, as he definitely didn’t want to know the answer.

  Julia lowered her gaze, so that her eyes were concealed by her thick fan of lashes. “We haven’t been married long enough to say, but last night wasn’t a great start.”

  His laugh was genuine, low and warm, as he wrapped his arms tight around her waist. He had never felt such a conflicting range of emotions for a single person.

  “I was wrong last night.”

  She lifted her eyes to his face again, hope so obvious that it made him feel like the worst kind of bastard.

  “You were?” Her breathing had quickened and her question came out as a husk.

  “I said I didn’t want you. And I do.”

  She closed her eyes, all hope dashed. “Even though I’m little better than a prostitute, according to you?”

  She moved to disentangle herself from his arms, but was left disappointed when he let her.

  “Let’s not get into another argument now,” he said warningly, stepping away from her and moving back towards his desk. “My house is big. Find something to do here.”

  She sent a beam of hot disapproval at his retreating back. “I take it I’m dismissed?”

  He felt a wave of impatience. “Stop acting like a child. I’m working. My business interests are responsible for employing around ninety thousand staff. That is a lot of people, and a lot of families, who depend on me to put food on their tables.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said with a sarcastic nod. “I had forgotten that the world would stop turning if you stopped working for even five minutes. Silly me!”

  “You’re being childish again, Julia.”

  “You married me, Zayn. This is what you get.”

  His expression was full of boredom, and it made her even angrier. Fortunately for Julia, she knew the one thing in the world that could anger Zayn in equal measure. Going against his wishes.

  “Fine,” she held her hands up in what she hoped seemed a conciliatory gesture. “Have fun working.”

  Only Zayn couldn’t work. After she’d meekly left his office, and quietly pulled the door shut, he was filled with swirling frustration. By the time he went to find Julia and apologize for his curtness, it was too late. She was gone, and her life was in danger, and he was powerless to do a thing about it.

  * * *

  It hadn’t been hard for Julia to leave Zayn’s home. She was, after all, married to the lord and master of the manor, and his staff were apparently willing to do her bidding. More than that, Julia had been raised in a style that gave her a natural authority. Though she was egalitarian to the core, she had no hesitation in assuming a haughty manner to achieve her ends.

  She had just known that if she didn’t get out of Zayn’s vicinity, she might explode.

  And so a small team of three security staff had assembled and driven her to one of the bazaars nearest the edge of the city. It was so beautiful, that she found herself wishing she had waited until Zayn had time to show it to her. She kept enthusing to her little band of staff, but she was met, in response, with resolutely blank faces. She gathered they’d been trained to interact as little as possible with the royalty they minded.

  What a strange way to live.

  Julia was a naturally skilled people person. Though crowds were not her predilection, one on one, she enjoyed meeting new people. She had always enjoyed chatting to strangers, and learning about their lives. The fact that she couldn’t do so now was a source of irritation to her. She turned her attention to the busy market and tried to simply enjoy the strange new sights she was encountering.

  The thing that impressed her most of all were the spice stalls. They were all set up, side by side, and each of them had bowls of fine powder that were piled in perfect mountains of different colors. The artful presentation was something she’d never seen before. Then, there were the carpets. All beautifully woven, some out of bright colors, others from earth tones. There was a large, circular carpet at one stall that reminded her so much of the cover on Zayn’s matrah that she couldn’t resist buying it.

  “Oh,” she said with conster
nation, when the stall keeper told her, in halting English, how much the floor covering would cost. Without knowing the exact currency conversion, she was certain it was an arm and a leg, but that wasn’t the problem. She had no physical money on her, and the stall keeper didn’t appear to take credit cards.

  “I’m sorry,” she said earnestly. “I’ll have to come back another day.”

  “No, no,” one of her aides – the pretty, dark haired woman – interrupted, and a rapid fire exchange took place in Arabic before the shopkeeper was all smiles and the aide turned to speak to her. “He is happy to bill the palace.”

  Julia bit down on her lip. She had wanted to buy it as a surprise for Zayn, and now she saw what a stupid gesture it had been. The sun was beating down hard and hot, and she felt her spirits deflate. The brief glimpse of pleasure she’d received from rebelling against Zayn’s ridiculous decree that she couldn’t leave his home evaporated. But the shopkeeper was still beaming at her, having no idea that the last thing she wanted was for her husband’s family to pay for her stupid and ill-thought out gift to him, and Julia didn’t want to retract her offer to buy the carpet, and so she nodded, and forced a smile to her face. “Thank you,” she said with a nod of her head.

  “You have very good taste,” the aide who had negotiated the transaction said as they walked past the carpet stalls and down another alley of the markets.

  Julia opened her mouth to say something but a sudden movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She was aware then of a small child, perhaps only five or six, crouching down, and a heavy-set man with a long beard and mean looking eyes picking up a large flat paddle. “He’s going to hit her,” Julia said, frozen into inaction out of surprise. “He’s going to hit her. Why isn’t anyone doing anything?”

  The aide looked confused and Julia felt her fear rise. The child was crying. Obviously, she was a little urchin, perhaps homeless, and Julia knew that no one was going to intercede on her behalf. Fear so strong she could taste it in her mouth flew through her system, but she didn’t hesitate. Julia quickly ran across the market, unaware of the commotion she’d caused by her actions. She threw herself between the man and the child at the exact moment the horrible beast brought the metallic paddle down with great force.