Stolen by the Sheik (Black Towers Book 2) (11 page)

“Don’t forget me,” she whispered as she clung to his skin.

He raised his head and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “I could never forget you, Olivia. To do so would be like forgetting the sun on a rainy day. You will always be with me, and for as long as you remember this moment, I will be a part of you.” He curled his fingers around her shoulders and thrust hard, filling her to the point of breaking. Each push shoved away her depressing thoughts, until there was only her, only him. Liv’s mind filled with desire as they started to move quicker. The sound of flesh-on-flesh filled the room as their bodies came together as one.

Liv whimpered as he filled her, needing more. She dragged her fingernails along his back, hoping to leave some reminder of her on his skin. He bit her lower lip, and she bit back. Soon they were clawing at each other, and the rough, primal play made her want him more.

Nayo propped himself up on his hands and thrust harder, faster. Liv met his movements, and their bodies came together with more force. She wanted more, needed more. As her desire climbed, her muscles wound tight with need. Within seconds she was teetering on the edge of another orgasm, and she grabbed his biceps to ground herself as the world around them faded away.

Then it came, an orgasm so hard and fast that it left her feeling dizzy. Joy washed through her limbs, numbing them to everything but pleasure. Her core contracted, hugging his cock and dragging him into oblivion with her. They both hung there, suspended, and once more the connection formed.

As he gathered her into his arms, Liv buried her face into his hair and inhaled his scent, trying desperately to commit everything to memory.

She had never felt anything so consuming, or so precious. She didn’t know if she’d ever get a chance to feel that way again.

T
he phone
on Liv’s desk buzzed, causing her to jump out of her seat. She had been so engrossed with her research, she had lost all track of time.

Grabbing the receiver, she wedged it between her ear and shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Carrie’s crisp, disapproving voice snapped through the line. “Is that how you always answer your phone?”

“I’m sorry.” Liv rubbed her forehead and slumped back in her seat. “I’m just in the middle of a story.”

“And a story is just what I want to talk to you about. I expect you in my office in five.”

The phone line clicked, and Liv replaced the receiver with a sigh. Great, just great. No matter what Liv did, she couldn’t seem to please her boss. With Nayo gone, she thought that she would be able to concentrate more on her job and really make a difference. Instead of focusing, she found herself distracted and disoriented. Things in her life that had seemed so solid before were shaken. While she was still passionate about writing, no longer could she write the puff pieces required of the magazine. How could she care about nail polish and fashion when there was so much more in the world going on?

After Nayo left, the account of what had happened to them had poured out of her. With Deema’s help, she had written an article for the magazine, highlighting the issues with dating people from different cultures, hoping that it could help others not be as judgmental of their peers. She had found a new passion, and had even started volunteering at a local charity, helping immigrants establish themselves in the States. The first article was followed up with a second, then a third, all talking about the stories of the people she had met and how they embraced different aspects of American culture.

She had submitted the articles, but had heard nothing back. As far as she knew, Carrie didn’t even read the articles, which would be typical. Her boss liked to do things her own way, and wasn’t very open to ideas on how to change or improve the magazine. Liv assumed that her boss was calling her into her office to tell her that the articles were junk, and to write something better suited, like a piece comparing face creams.

With a sigh, Liv pushed herself away from her desk and went to the ladies room to freshen up. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. She needed to have more meaning in her life, and suspected that readers wanted meatier articles, too. She would never be able to convince Carrie of her ideas, however. Perhaps she should start looking for a job where she’d be a better fit, or a place where she at least wouldn’t have to endure the high demands of her boss.

After taking a deep breath, Liv knocked on her boss’s office door.

“Come in.”

Liv carefully turned the knob and stepped inside. Carrie was sitting behind her desk in a beautiful high back upholstered chair. Her office was always as impeccable as Carrie herself and just as elegant. Never a paper out of place, a pen where it didn’t belong. Her sleek, black desk looked more like a decoration than a work space, her fancy laptop always flanked with fresh flowers on one side of it and a scented candle burning on the other. Framed pictures of Carrie with different celebrities and models that had been featured in
Elite!
at one point or another adorned the walls. Her entire office was decorated with gold accents everywhere; a gold chandelier hung from the ceiling, a large mirror with a golden frame hung on the wall, and glittering gold curtains draped over the window. Even her stapler was gold.

Carrie herself was dressed in her usual fashion, black on black on black. The only color in her outfit was the red soles on her stilettos. Her hair was out of its usual twist today, styled in a perfect blow out. It must be exhausting to look this perfect all the time Liv thought.

“Sit.” Carrie said.

Liv moved to do as instructed. An uncomfortable silence followed, and Liv fidgeted in her seat.

After a long moment, Carrie looked up from the folder she was reading. “I’ve read your articles,” she said, waving her folder in the air. “It seems as if this whole bomb threat has had quite an effect on you.”

Liv moved to the edge of her seat. “I can explain—”

Carrie held up her hand. “Let me finish.”

Liv cleared her throat and folded her hands in her lap. “Sorry.”

Carrie closed the folder and placed it carefully on her desk. “I’m not normally one to change things up at the magazine. My philosophy has always been ‘if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it.’”

“I know, I just thought—”

“Let me finish.” Her voice carried a hard edge that caused Liv to straighten in her seat.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

Carrie placed her hand on the folder. “Like I said, normally I don’t change things up at the magazine, but competition has become increasingly fierce. I think it’s about time I started adapting.”

Liv raised her brows. “Oh?”

Carrie twisted her lips into a half smile. “I liked your humanitarian articles. You have a knack for taking real-life issues and creating a trendy spin that makes them current. And your writing voice is fresh.”

“Does this mean that you will print the articles?”

“I’m going to do more than that. I’m going to give you your own column in each issue. You keep sending me stories like this, and you’ll go far in this company.”

Excitement tingled over Liv’s skin as she stood. “Oh, thank you, Ms. Russell. You won’t regret this. I promise.”

“See that I don’t.” Carrie cleared her throat. “Of course, you will need new compensation that will adequately reflect your new responsibilities, and an assistant. In light of this, I’m giving you Madison. She will help you with research and give you anything you need to ensure that you meet your new deadlines.”

Liv couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was getting a promotion and her rival was going to work for her? This was almost too good to be true.

“What’s the catch?” Liv asked.

“Catch?”

“There has to be a catch. You always are so hard on me. . .”

Carrie chuckled and averted her gaze. “Well, perhaps I’m a little hard on you because I see a lot of myself in you when I was your age. When I was young, I was idealistic and ambitious as well.” She waved her hands to her sides. “And look where all of that ambition got me.” She stood and walked around her desk. “I expect great things from you, Olivia. Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t,” Liv said, shaking her hand. “Promise.”

“You better not.” Carrie broke off the handshake and straightened. “Now get out of my office. We both have a lot of work to do.”

“Yes ma’am.” Liv felt as if she was walking on clouds as she entered the hall and walked back to her cubicle. Her first reaction was to call Nayo and tell him the good news, but then she remembered that he wasn’t around. He had gone back to his home country to fulfill his obligation as ruler of his people.

The knowledge that he would never be returning weighed heavy on her as she went through the rest of her day, and by the time Liv stood on the metro platform, tears stung her eyes. Despite her efforts to move on with her life, she found that she missed Nayo. She longed to look into those warm, rich eyes that always seemed to see right into her soul. She missed the way he loved hold her close, burying his face into her neck and breathing her in. But most of all, she really wished she could hear him call her
habibti
, my love, in that sexy accent of his just one more time.

When the subway pulled up to the stop, she started to get on, but a familiar voice stopped her.

“Wait!”

She turned and shock slammed into her system as she saw Nayo hurrying to catch up to her. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He was more handsome than she even remembered; his thick dark hair, those piercing eyes, all set off by the rich caramel of his skin. He looked more casual than their first meeting as he approached her. Gone was the stiff tailored suit, and in its place were relaxed jeans that hugged him in all the right places and a fitted long sleeved black shirt. She loved him in a suit, but had to admit she loved that these clothes showed off his muscular body even more. He looked more at ease, more comfortable in his own skin today too, but maybe that was more than just because of the clothes, she thought.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Meeting you.”

She glanced at the subway, and then stepped away and onto the platform. The large machine rolled away with a heavy squeal and a roar of the engine.

“I don’t understand.” She looked down at his clothes. “And what are you wearing? I thought that as royalty, you always had to look your best.”

He grabbed her hand and grinned. “Come, I’ll explain everything.”

Liv tried to wrap her head around this strange turn of events as he pulled her toward the stairs. “I thought you had obligations back home. I thought that after everything that had happened, you had to speak to your father.”

“I did speak to my father.”

She pulled on his hand, bringing them to a stop. “What did he say? Did he force you to marry Deema? Are you going to start taking on more responsibility in the family?”

He let go of her hand and brushed his fingers down the side of her cheek. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

“Well, if you gave me some answers. . .”

“Patience.” He took her hand, kissed it, and dragged her up the rest of the stairs and onto the sidewalk.

Liv was starting to get déjà vu. She had to admit, having him drag her away like this was rather exciting. Liv loved how Nayo took charge of every situation. It made her feel safe and protected. Things were starting to get out of hand, however. He had made his choice. He had told her that they could no longer be together as long as his father was set in the old ways. Tradition dictated that he marry not only an Arab, but one of noble birth, a woman who would help carry on Muslim tradition.

“Nayo.” She pulled on his hand as they approached a small sports car, stopping him once more. “What is that? You don’t own a car.”

“I rented it.”

“Where are we going?”

He pulled open the passenger door. “Trust me.”

She stared at him for a long moment, considering. “Okay, but just this once.”

He smirked. “Once is all I ask.”

They got in the car and he started to drive, taking them closer and closer to the harbor. He parked the car and walked around to open Liv’s door, taking her hand as she exited the car.

“Come with me,” he said as they walked the rest of the way to the Port of Los Angeles, the setting sun turning the sky the most beautiful shades of pink and orange which were reflected on the water. People bustled all around them, enjoying the sights, eating ice cream, grabbing food from a vendor. She loved it down here.

As they approached the water, Spanish music rose up, played by some local band. Liv smiled as Nayo slowed his pace to watch some of the spectators dance.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, of course.” She shook her head and looked at him. “But I don’t understand what this has to do with you being here, or why—”

“Shh, you’ll ruin the moment.” He turned toward the music and hummed with the melody. Liv tried to focus, but it was difficult. Questions kept intruding on her thoughts, disrupting the moment. She wanted to know what was going on, and why he was showing her something that could be seen on almost any day during the summer.

“Back home, music needs to be approved before it can be played,” he murmured. “Everything that comes into the country must be sterilized and homogenized by the governing body—and that includes my father.” He leaned in closer to Liv and lowered his voice. “I played him some music from this band, and he told me that he’d consider allowing it and similar songs into the country.”

“He did?”

Nayo nodded. “I want to show you something else.” He steered her away from the group and they made their way along the waterfront, toward the port. Liv began to relax as the familiar lighthouse came into view. She had been spending a lot of time down here lately with her charity, meeting immigrants coming off the boats and helping them get settled.

“I read about what you have been doing,” Nayo said.

“You have?”

He nodded. “There was an article about it in the paper.”

“Yes.” There had been a short piece a few weeks back about a charity event Liv had helped organize. “We are short on funding. There are so many people who need our help.”

“I think what you’re doing is great.”

“You do?”

“Of course.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. “In fact, I think that it’s so great, that I want to help.”

She shook her head. “Help? But I thought you had responsibility—”

“I did. I still do.” He let out a long breath and took her hands in his. “My father isa hard man, but he isn’t an ogre. When I told him what had happened and explained the situation, he agreed that a marriage to Deema would not be in our best interests.”

“What about Deema? Is she going to get in trouble?”

“No. My father and I were able to smooth things over with her family. Our alliance is intact, along with Deema’s reputation.”

Liv let out a long breath. “That’s good. I was afraid that—”

“Deema still has an uphill battle with her family. I expect that her parents will not be too pleased to learn that their only daughter is a lesbian. That, however, is not my affair. I have my own life back now, and I have worked out a deal with my father that I think will benefit everyone.” He brushed his fingers down the side of her cheek, causing her to shiver.

“You did?”

He nodded and slid his thumb over her lips. “I’ve missed you, Olivia.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered. “These past few weeks have been. . .”

“I know, but I’m here now.” He shifted his gaze to her lips and began to close the distance between them.

“Wait.” Liv inched back and forced her gaze up to meet his. “You said that you have your life back. Does that mean that you no longer have your family responsibility?”

“It means that my responsibilities have changed.” He lowered his hand. “I believe, and my father agrees, that in order to survive in this day and age, we will need to at least understand western culture and all of its nuances.” He squeezed her fingers and smiled.