ROMANCE: THE SHEIKH'S GAMES: A Sheikh Romance (7 page)

“Finally!” Al-Hafeez replied and the relief was evident on his face.

“I was that bad?” Jameela asked.

Al-Hafeez chuckled. “Not that part,” he told her. “That was probably the best thing that came out of all of that.”

Jameela blushed at his words, and was displeased when the door opened and the nurse came in. She smiled briefly at her and took up the chart hanging from the base of the bed. “You need to get your medicine now Mr. Ramadan,” she told him.

“And on that note, I will see you later,” Jameela told him. She felt an overwhelming urge to kiss him, bandages and all, but not with the nurse standing there.

He could sense her need, as fresh on her as it was on him, and he had to forcefully wipe the image off his mind before his body parts gave him away. He smiled at her, and mouthed later, before she was blocked by the nurse.

Back in the lobby she ran into the elder Ramadan again, and she shared the good news of Al-Hafeez’s freedom with him.

He sighed with relief and held out his hand for hers. He patted the back of it and smiled at her. “Thank you so much for all the help you have given us. I know my son has taken a fancy to you, and I cordially extend my invitation to you; you can come by the palace at any time you wish. You will always be welcome.”

“Oh, Mr. Ramadan,” she beamed. “Thank you. The nurse is in with him now, and he may fall asleep soon after he gets his shots, but I’ll be back later.”

“I can see my son will be in good hands,” he said and patted her shoulder. “I think I need to get back home now too. I barely slept a wink last night.”

“I’ll see you later Sir,” she said and smiled.

After the man had gone Jameela stood there for a few seconds facing Al-Hafeez’s room. So much had happened between them, and in so little time. Things were about to change once more, only this time, she was ready for it.

Al-Hafeez was in the hospital for an entire week. He was still limping when he emerged from the room with his father. Jameela had grown so accustomed to the strong man who walked around commanding the attention of everyone he met that she had to adjust her mental lenses to accept the image before her.

“Are you ready to get out of here, or would you still like to be waited on?” she asked as he got closer to her.

“Sure, I’d like to stay here,” he replied sarcastically. “Nothing like being waited on by hospital staff and be fed mush.”

Jameela laughed at his response and held onto his arm. His father had the other one and they helped the titan to his car. He seemed relieved to get out of there, and he stared out the window, his mind seemingly drifting like the dust left in their wake. “Are you alright?” she asked him.

“Mmm,” was his response, but he kept his eyes away from her.

She raised her brow at his odd reply, but she didn’t challenge it any further. He had been his usual self over the week, and she had been to see him every day since the attack. His face bore only superficial marks now, which would disappear soon enough. But it seemed something plagued him now he wasn’t ready yet to disclose. She understood the emotional turmoil that he must be dealing with. Or not. Men oftentimes dealt with emotions in a strange way.

Just then the car turned into the long driveway, and came to an eventual stop at the fountain. The chauffeur assisted him out, since he could more easily match his strength, and Al-Hafeez fell clumsily on his bed when he arrived there. His father left them alone, after telling him how glad he was to have him back home. He lumbered to the bathroom, where he washed what appeared to be the essence of the hospital from him. When he returned he was smiling once more, and she sighed contentedly. Maybe her mind had just been playing tricks on her.

“So,” he said as he moved closer to her. He lifted her face with his index finger, and brought her eyes to his. “It’s been some time since I’ve tasted you.” And without another word, he brought his lips down on hers. There was an urgency in the way he pulled her to him, and his breathing began to intensify as he groped her.

Jameela’s head began to spin as she responded to him, and she swooned as his energy electrified her and rendered her weak. She felt his hands move down her side, to her hips, and soon he cupped her buttocks, and pressed her into him. He started moving back slowly to the bed, and she was acutely aware of his present intentions.

“Wait,” she said and pressed her hand against his chest. It took her some doing to resist his urges, and she stepped back and pinched her lips. “You just got home. Maybe you need to rest a bit.”

“I’ve been resting for a week,” he told her and reached for her again.

“You’re not strong enough,” she said and dodged his grasp. “Let’s just get you back on your feet again.”

He tried still to pull her to him, and as he lunged after her, he winced, proving her to be correct. He groaned angrily and tensed on the spot.

She moved forward to assist him, but he shrugged her off and went over to the bed. She stood there, uncertain of what to do as he grew still. It became apparent he was no longer in a sociable or sexual mood, and that she had overstayed her welcome.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” she said. He didn’t respond, and she saw herself out. She had never been privy to that side of him before. But then again, she didn’t really know him at all. He had spent only one night with her before, and she wasn’t quite sure of the label she could assign to their peculiar relationship.

When she got home, she felt exhausted. It was late in the evening, and she was grateful she didn’t need to return to the office. She was slipping off her heels when she heard the phone ring. Maybe he was calling to apologize for being so short with her before. She grew anxious as she searched for the phone among the rubble in her bag. When she found it, she saw that it wasn’t him at all.

“Hey Mansi,” she replied.

“Are you home?” she asked.

“Yeah, I just got in,” she replied. She wiped her hand over her face and then stooped to retrieve her shoes.

“So, how is everything?” the girl asked, curious to know what was happening with the Sheikh.

“If by that you mean if Al-Hafeez is alright, he is,” she replied flatly.

Her response was not lost on Mansi. “That doesn’t sound so good,” she said.

“Don’t read too much into it,” Jameela told her. “He just got home and is sort of still in recovery mode. He will be himself in no time.”

“If you say so,” the girl replied.

Little did Jameela know how ironic her statement had been. The next few days proved just how much Al-Hafeez had relapsed into his former ways. His egoistical ways had fully returned, and he began to grow even more condescending.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked one night when they were out to dinner. He seemed more distracted than usual and kept checking his phone.

“Nothing,” he replied, and slipped the device back into his jacket pocket. “So, how was the meal?” His face had resumed its childish charm, but she was not fooled for a second.

“Don’t patronize me Al-Hafeez. Something is up, and who are you expecting to call?” she asked him.

“I do believe I am old enough to handle my affairs without reporting the details of it to you,” he answered. More wine?” he asked her.

“I think I’m done,” she told him and replaced the napkin on the table.

He raised his hand for the check, and she grew an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. He drove her home in silence, and barely offered her a kiss when the car pulled up at her building.

And his attitude remained that way for the next week or so. Something was definitely off with him, and rather than leave him alone, her gut instincts told her something was terribly awry with him. She was heading home after a long day of sorting through pending cases on her desk, when she spotted his jaguar parked outside a motel. She took her eyes off the road, forgetting she was still driving. The loud honking of a horn snapped her back into focus, and she had to ram on the brakes to prevent from colliding into the car ahead of her.

She checked her mirror, now fully aware of the ongoing honking because she was blocking the flow of traffic. She held her hand up apologetically, and flicked on her indicator light as she pulled over to the curb. As the vehicles slowly moved past, she looked back at the jaguar parked at a place she would have never expected it to be. She sat there for minutes just staring at it, until she switched off the ignition and got out. She skipped across the street and pushed open the glass doors. Inside was just as shady as it appeared on the outside, and she felt out of place.

“Excuse me miss?” the woman at the reception desk called. “May I help you?”

“I was just looking for someone,” Jameela replied. “Sheikh Al-Hafeez.”

The woman looked uncomfortable, and she involuntarily looked in the direction Jameela assumed Al-Hafeez was. She needed to say nothing more. Jameela started walking towards the corridor, and the woman called out to her to stop. She remained undeterred. There were several rooms lining each side of the passage, and at the last door on the right, it was not hard to pick out Al-Hafeez’s voice among several others.

“I don’t want to wage higher than that,” she heard him say.

“Have you now grown into a coward Hafeez,” a gruff voice replied.

“Five million dollars is enough,” Al-Hafeez said.

Jameela could hardly believe what she was hearing, and her ears grew hot with rage the longer she stood there. Unable to contain herself any longer, she rapped on the door. She heard the silence that followed, and then a burly man’s face appeared.

Jameela didn’t wait to be admitted. She pushed past the man, and Al-Hafeez’s jaw dropped when he saw her enter. He shifted uncomfortably, and without saying a word, Jameela walked back outside.

“Jameela,” he called as he raced after her. She kept walking still, but she was no match for his long strides, and he caught up to her by the time she got to the door. He grabbed her hand, and she spun angrily, her rage bursting through the thin veil of control she had been clinging to.

She flashed him off and turned to face him. “After everything you have been through, you still come here with these men?!”

Al-Hafeez looked back at the woman sitting at the reception desk, her interest peaked. He gripped Jameela’s arm and led her outside to escape her prying eyes and ears. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are
you
doing here?” she asked and folded her arms. “And to think, I defended you so valiantly to your father, promising him that you had changed, and that this life you had was over.” Her disappointment covered her face, and he shrank back at her words.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There was simply no way of defending his actions that would make sense. He let go of her arm, and she stepped back. Before she moved away, he saw the tears glisten in her eyes, at the same moment when she felt them burn. She turned and hurried away, not once looking back. He had proven to be the very man she had hoped he wasn’t, and his betrayal of her, and of himself, was more than she was willing to take.

She got into her car and sped off, barely missing the truck heading in the opposite direction. She swerved and collected her mentalities, brushing away the tears that had already began to fall. She didn’t look back, but if she had, she would have seen that Al-Hafeez had not returned inside. He stood on the pavement, his hands shoved deep inside his pockets. Then he went into his jaguar and went away.

But she had seen none of that. All she remembered was falling for a man who was unable to control his impulses, even though they had almost cost his life. She drove along the coast for over an hour, trying to clear her mind and Al-Hafeez from her heart. The latter seemed to need more than an hour’s drive. By the time she got home she was exhausted and worn. She dragged herself to the apartment and tossed her bag on the counter. She moved slowly to the bedroom, hurt and disappointment clinging to her like static. She was inches away from the bed when she felt someone grab her. She made a yelp as panic surged through her. The arms squeezed her around the middle, and the thrashed as she tried to break free. It was then that she noticed a familiar scent, and that the arms were not attempting to hurt her. She stopped struggling, and moved her head aside. Sure enough it was Al-Hafeez.

Her face contorted, and she tried to unravel herself from his hold, but he wouldn’t let her go. And a part of her didn’t want him to.

“Let go of me,” Jameela said as she struggled to get free.

“No,” he told her and held her even closer. “Not until you agree to be calm and hear me out.”

“How did you get in here?” she asked him as her temper simmered.

When he was sure she would listen to reason, he slowly released his grip on her. “I have my ways.”

“Let me guess; it wasn’t hard to charm the attendant,” she said and folded her arms defensively before her.

“I don’t want to talk,” he told her and came over to her. His movement forced her against the bed and she saw, even in the dark, the fire in his eyes.

“We aren’t doing this,” she said as she tried to force him back. He didn’t relent. He caught her once more and found her lips. She tried to push him back, but he was too strong for her. Then she started pushing less, and eventually, without her consent, her body began to say yes. She relaxed against him, and her lips parted. Her encouragement sent him into a heated fervor, and he moved his head to nuzzle against her neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her skin. His breath caused her to shiver, and goose pimples to cover her. “I’m sorry,” he said again before he kissed her face, her chest and then her lips again.

“Do you mean it?” she asked as she groped him and surrendered to the emotions flooding her.

“I made a mistake,” he told her, and stopped long enough to gaze into her eyes. Then he let her go, and raked his hand through his hair. “It’s like I was unable to control myself for a while there. But when I saw that look in your eyes, and remembered my father’s words, I knew I couldn’t risk losing the respect of two of the most important people in my life. I don’t want to lose you Jameela. Not for that,” he said and held her face. “You mean too much to me.”