Seduced By The Bad Boy Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Bad Boy Romance (8 page)

I
don't know
how long I lay on the staircase after Aziz left, letting the tears come from my eyes as sobs wracked through my body.

That fucking asshole! Sheikh Asshole was too good a name for that fucker!

I had woken up probably the happiest girl in the world, and here I was, a mess on the staircase. I was glad no one was around to see me like this. It was my own fault. I was the one that had given in. Aziz had told me point blank that I had ten seconds to get away from him and after that he wasn't responsible for his actions. I knew exactly what kind of man he was. But my head was swimming. From the bar. From seeing him protect me. From grabbing onto him on his motorcycle. From his body. I had wanted him.

It was all my fault.

And what had he done after I had given him my heart? He'd stomped on it with his steel-toed boots and kicked it to the curb.

I wondered if the scores of other women he'd done this to felt the way I did right now. Used, betrayed, naked.

And what reason did Sheikh Asshole give me to walk out of my life? That he was protecting me? That I didn't know who he was and once I found out I'd shy away in revulsion?

Please. If that was the best he could come up with, then the women he spent his time with weren't the sharpest tools in the shed.

Sadness began to give way to anger and I got myself up from the stairwell. I couldn't let him affect me like this. I couldn't fall apart because of what he had done to me. I knew I was being a walking cliché, having given myself to a guy and now tending a broken heart, but I was determined that I was going to emerge from this stronger and more resilient.

I was still a fucking independent, strong woman, or did he forget that when he took me. I had just as much of a microphone as he did if I played my cards right - I had needed to apply myself.

I climbed up off the stairwell and was just about to go upstairs when I heard the doorbell. The pool construction guys usually kept to themselves - they interacted directly with Hamid, so I wondered who it could be. I quickly ran to the hall tree mirror and looked at myself.

Yeah, I looked like a mess but I took the bottom of my shirt and cleaned myself up as best I could. The bell rang again and this time I was a bit presentable. I opened the door to find Billy standing there in a little green beret.

"Billy," I said, more because I didn't know what to say at the moment.

"Natalie, are you okay?" he asked, his eyes widening.

"I'm fine, Billy," I said, not looking at him directly so he wouldn't know I way lying. "What's up? The pool guys are building the pool right now."

"I know," Billy said absently. He took off his beret. "Aziz gave this to me a few days ago, and said I could take it to school for show and tell. I couldn't find him so I wanted to give it back to him."

He handed me the beret. I took it with a trembling hand.

"Where is Aziz, Natalie?" he asked. "I don't see his bike outside."

"Aziz is gone for a little bit, Billy," I said biting my lip. "I don't know when he'll be back, to be honest."

Billy's face scrunched up in concern. "Well, I hope he gets here fast. He told me what to say to Mary Zimmerman to get her to go to the summer camp dance with me on Friday." I looked to Billy in concern. Had Aziz begun imparting his lady-killer skills on the young? Had he started corrupting the youth?

"He told me I could buy him an ice cream if it worked, and he said no welshing on the deal. We even shook on it," Billy finished, in absolute seriousness.

I couldn't help but smile at him. The idea of the larger than life Sheikh Asshole sharing an ice cream on a bench with Billy was enough for me to momentarily forget what I was going through.

Momentarily.

"I'm sure he wouldn't miss that at all, so don't worry," I reassured Billy as he made way to leave. I stood there watching Billy for long moments, my mind drifting to Aziz, wondering how someone who could make such great friends with Billy could treat me so ill.

Even if I took him at his word and believed that there was something dark deep in Aziz's past, what could it be? Did he love me already that he had become inordinately worried about my fragility?

The part of my brain that refused to be stilled until all questions were answered was awake and smelling a mystery. I had to get to the bottom of it. But how?

I looked down at the beret I was holding. I brought it closer. It had an insignia and the Royal Crest of Qumar.

"Special Task Force 4," I read aloud.

It was as good a place to start as any.

* * *

"
T
ell
me about what you see every day?"
the interviewer asked.

I was sitting at my computer, intrigued by a documentary that I had found buried on a never seen website with maybe only 50 views. Whoever it was that had done it had been pretty meticulous about covering up what Aziz had done during the war in Afghanistan, but apparently they had missed this, or it had been posted afterwards. I had found it after searching through a million other sites - mostly tabloid trash about Aziz.

"Well, love, it's pretty easy to describe,"
the camera panned to Aziz as he flashed a smirk and a smile to the comely interviewer. She blushed and smiled despite herself.

Slut,
I couldn't help but think as Aziz and the interviewer began walking along what looked like the length of the base.
"I lead a force of men into some really damn inhospitable areas. We pound out the enemy until he's crying for mercy. Once he's softened up a bit, that's when the boys from your country, and all the other countries come in and mop everything up."

"So, it's just the forces of Qumar?"
the interviewer asked.

"There's other teams out there like ours. Half of them are from your country. The US. There's a few from the UK. And then the rest are from Qumar. This is what we contribute to the war effort," Aziz answered.

"And what exactly is that?" the interviewer pressed on.

"The meanest sons of bitches Al Qaeda has ever seen. They don't know what's hit them by the time we're done. Before they have a chance to get back on their feet, the infantry boys are in and we've pacified the combat zone," Aziz answered, looking directly at the interviewer, and by extension, the viewer.

"Your pedigree is something out of a fairy tale. Born as a sheikh to one of the last monarchies in the world, you excelled in your studies, educated in the UK, and studying at Oxford..." the interviewer changed tack.

"I did alright, yes," Aziz finished once the interviewer had trailed off.

"You did better than alright," the interviewer countered. "You earned a perfect grade point average all the way through your studies and then returned home to join the Qumari Military Academy. Why?"

Aziz shrugged. "From my birth, I've been a sheikh and enjoyed the benefits of being a royal. But that's not what being a Sheikh is about. It's not about parties and it's not about luxury. It's about taking care of a nation. Taking care of my people. And to me, that's the 5 million people that live in my father's kingdom."

"You speak quite fondly of Qumar," the interviewer stated.

Wouldn't you?" Aziz asked. "For 1900 years my family has been stewards of this desert nation. That's 1900 years of Mussayef’s doing what needed to be done. We have lifted our people to First World status and we are America’s closest allies in the region. We suffered with our citizens and we never asked them to sacrifice when we didn't. And it's shown. We have one of the largest economies in the world now, and have the highest per capita income in the Middle East, Africa and Asia, after China. We're hardworking, industrious, and as tenacious as a..." Aziz was cut off before he could

"I think we get the idea, there," the interviewer interjected. "Any plans to marry?"

I leaned in to better hear, curious. The interview was taken several years ago and while outwardly it seemed Aziz had changed, to me it seemed like the same man I had seen last night.

The same man I had given myself to.

The same man I had expected to be with me in the morning.

Aziz was about to answer when I heard footsteps behind me.

I paused and turned around. Hamid had walked in.

"Ah, Miss Natalie," he said genially. "Please excuse me. I just came to pick up Aziz's things. I assume they are..."

His voice trailed off when he saw the computer screen behind me.

"Miss Natalie, where did you get that video?" he asked, visibly shaken.

"I found it online after a lot of searching," I answered getting up. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"

Hamid didn't answer. I could tell as his eyes flickered back and forth from the screen to my face that he was holding something back.

"Hamid," I said, drawing closer. "What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing, Miss Natalie," he answered, attempting to be deferential. He looked at me. I looked back at him and shook my head, letting him know it wasn't working.

"Hamid," I started slowly. "Tell me what's going on."

" Miss Natalie," Hamid gulped. "If you'll give me the site address, I will make sure that video is taken off. I beg you."

I sighed. I had had it. I didn't just lose my virginity and then have this puzzle sit in front of my face while Hamid continued to ignore my entreaties for clarity. I did the only thing that came to mind.

I walked up to him and grabbed him by the collar.

He took a step back and I kicked in the self-defense judo training that I had learned back in college, sweeping out my left leg and tripping him.

Hamid gave a holler and flailed his arms as he began to fall backwards, but not fast enough.

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. I really didn't want to have to do this to someone Hamid's age, but I was about done being nice.

"Hamid," I said, holding him up and using upper body strength I didn't even know I had. "I really think today is not the day you want to fuck with me about what you know about your precious Sheikh."

My words hung in the air.

Finally, Hamid opened his mouth. "I was asked to work with the Royal Press Secretary, shortly after Sheikh Aziz returned from Afghanistan. Our job was to remove all traces from the public eye about his involvement in the war." He licked his lips. "I had no idea that video existed, and neither did Sheikh Aziz - there have been so many interviews. I was thinking about how angry he'd be at me if he found out."

I needed to know why the videos were being deleted. Why was Aziz covering up history?

"Where is he?" I asked.

Hamid remained silent. I narrowed my eyes and eyed him again. "Hamid..." I continued.

"He's at the Applebee's on Third and Warner," Hamid blurted out. "I'm supposed to meet him there."

That's all I needed to know. "Thank you," I replied sweetly, helping him up.

Hamid got to his feet and began to dust himself off. "If you don't mind my saying, Miss Natalie," Hamid said in an awed tone as I went to grab my keys, "I'm starting to think as much military training as the Sheikh may have had, you may be the stronger one.."

But those were words were lost on me as I was heading to the garage. In a daze I drove through the streets, not even knowing why I was heading to see Aziz. All I knew was that if this man, who had given me the best sex of my life, and made me feel safe, protected, and happy was walking out, I wanted the whole truth and everything in relation to that truth.

I walked through the dark entryway of the Applebee's and saw that it was mostly empty at this hour. The early lunch crowd was starting to come in, but I had no problem spotting Aziz - at his height and his build he was hard to miss.

He was sitting at the bar, and I watched as he downed a shot of some amber looking liquid. Next to him was a blonde girl with entirely too much makeup. She wore a tank top that was one size too small that must have been meant for the nightclubs.

Whatever. I was just going to break this party up to get my answers. That fucker owed me at least that much.

That's when I saw her reach over and stick her tongue into Aziz' ear. I stopped short as I saw her kiss him on the cheek, trailing her tongue down his stubble.

I couldn't watch her actually kiss him. It was too much and tears came to my eyes again. I turned around quickly.

"Miss," a waiter asked me, seeing my sudden movement. "Are you okay?"

I nodded and said something but I don't remember in my daze. I ran out of the restaurant as fast as I could go. My heart was beating so hard I almost felt like it was going to burst.

A part of me wanted to get away from everything this man was and anything associated with him.

No! Not until you know the real reason he let you go the way he did! Not until you know why he broke your heart!

If that was the case, there was only one thing I could do.

I pulled out my phone, dialed a number, and put it to my ear.

"Mommy?" I called out to her in my time of need into the phone. "I need to come see you."

After a minute of listening to my mother ask me questions and me promising to tell her once I got to Qumar. She told me not to book a flight. She had enough authority to request a private jet to come pick me up within the hour. That left me with an hour to get to the private airport she mentioned. She told me to not bother packing, I could get anything I needed in Qumar at a moment’s notice if I was staying in the Palace. I called Hamid and let him know to please pick my car up from the airport and then I bought a toothbrush from 7/11.