The Sheikh's Tempted Protectress (The Sheikh's Every Wish Book 4) Page 2

  “Adil, please bring the car up. I’ll be at the door momentarily.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Adil replied, ending the call immediately.

  Quick and to the point, just like Osman liked it. Osman was always so happy with Adil’s services. It was a shame his security team couldn’t have been more like him.

  Osman frowned, thinking about the group of over-muscled, overbearing men he had previously hired as his security team. Of course, he didn’t need one. He was one of those people who was rich enough to live exactly as he wanted, but distant enough from the throne so as not to be considered a risk—politically speaking, at least. Everyone knew Osman was just a playboy. Sometimes he liked to think of himself as the Batman of Al-Merindha, minus all the crime fighting and plastic suits. At least, it had been much easier to think that way before his father had died, and he had had to take on responsibilities that he had not terribly enjoyed.

  Adil pulled up with the car just as Osman approached the sliding front doors of the decadent hotel. He walked confidently to his car, knowing the door would be opened for him to slide in without hesitation.

  Osman sank into the cool leather of the backseat, pulling his phone out once more as Adil took his place in the driver’s seat.

  “Where to, sir?” Adil asked.

  “I’ve been invited for brunch at Faraj’s this morning. Let’s head over there now,” he said, opening up a poker app on his phone as Adil wound his way through the glittering city.

  Although it was later in the morning, the city was just starting to wake up, and Osman rolled down his window slightly to catch the scent of baking bread and fresh coffee being brewed. It was one of his favorite combinations, and he breathed deeply as Adil made his way to Faraj’s apartment.

  A few minutes later, the car pulled to a stop in front of a towering building, the color of rose gold.

  “Here we are, sir,” Adil said, setting the car in park and hopping out to open the Sheikh’s door.

  Osman closed the poker app after winning another round and stepped lightly from the car as he made his way toward the building.

  “I’ll be a couple of hours, Adil,” Osman said over his shoulder.

  “Very good, sir. Call whenever you are ready.”

  Osman nodded to the doorman, who held the door open ready for him. Osman was well-recognized around town, and a regular at this particular apartment building, so there was no need to check in with anyone. He came and went generally as he pleased. He expected no less.

  He entered the elevator and tapped the number of his friend’s penthouse apartment, swallowing as his ears popped again and again, rising high into the sky. Finally, the elevator stopped at the top, and Osman pressed the entry button to be let in. He was instantly granted access.

  Faraj’s penthouse was the pinnacle of style. His furniture was imported from the finest makers, his walls coated with modern art. The whole apartment was encircled with floor to ceiling windows, giving the sensation of being on top of the world. Osman never tired of the view, towering over the city with the ocean shimmering in the background.

  Faraj was sitting at the bar, mixing some kind of alcoholic drink. He grinned upon seeing Osman.

  “Osman! You made it, my friend!”

  Osman strolled over to the bar to join his friend, who gave him a welcoming handshake. “Thanks for the invite,” Osman said, fixing himself a drink; Faraj had been a friend of his since graduate school in Austria, and Osman felt comfortable making himself at home. “Anyone else joining us?”

  Faraj grinned. “We shall see. It’s Sunday morning, after all. Lots of hangovers to nurse.”

  Osman laughed, taking his drink and sitting down on one of the sofas overlooking the sea. Faraj joined him, plopping down on another welcoming cushion.

  “So, what’s new with you, Osman? Judging by your appearance I’d say you enjoyed some company last night,” Faraj said, sipping his drink.

  Osman laughed. “Is it that obvious? I thought I brushed out all the wrinkles in my shirt,” he said, taking another swipe at it for good measure.

  Faraj chuckled. “A man doesn’t wear a night of passion on his clothing, Osman. You appear relaxed and at peace with the world, and not at all hungover. Since women seem to be the best cure for anything that ails you, I can use my excellent deductive reasoning skills and come to the conclusion that you were with a beautiful lady last night. So, will this one last longer than a week?”

  Osman took a sip, stalling.

  The silence was all the answer Faraj needed. He sighed, though it was clearly in jest. “Oh Osman, when will you ever settle down and find a nice girl, eh?”

  Osman smirked. “Whenever you find one, so that I can steal her from under your nose,” he replied, and Faraj snorted.

  “I’d like to see you try!”

  At that moment a man dressed in a black suit entered the room, standing to attention at the door.

  Faraj turned and greeted the him warmly. “Ah, Hanif, welcome.”

  The man gave a small bow. “Reporting for duty, sir,” he said in a clipped accent.

  Faraj nodded and turned back to his friend. “Whatever happened to your security squad anyway, Osman? You outdid all of us by hiring an entire team, yet here I see you are alone, completely unprotected!”

  Osman frowned, gazing out at the city below. “There was something wrong with my team, Faraj. I can’t totally explain it. Some of the staff complained that they were being bullied, and some of my mother’s jewelry suddenly went missing. I don’t know who the culprit was, but I know all of my domestic staff very well. I don’t believe that any of them would steal from my home.”

  Faraj frowned in turn, his eyebrows knit in concern for his friend. “That’s terrible. Do you have security cameras around the house, something you could use for proof?”

  Osman scoffed. “I’m not going to put cameras in my home, Faraj, are you nuts? Hackers could easily gain access to the footage and watch me doing…things,” he said, trying not to think of some of the illicit activities he had got up to in the various hallways of his mansion.

  Faraj smirked. “All right, so no cameras, and no burly bullies escorting you about. Have you thought about using a different company?” he asked, nodding to a group of servers as they entered, carrying steaming plates full of food.

  Osman’s stomach rumbled as the staff set up tables in front of the two young men so that they wouldn’t have to lose their perfect view. He took a bite and swallowed before answering his friend’s question.

  “You’re going to think I’m nuts,” he said, hesitating, “but I’m interviewing a woman to be my bodyguard. I’m just waiting to confirm her arrival for the interview.”

  If Faraj’s eyebrows could have shot any higher, they’d have landed on top of his head. He burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and kept laughing until Osman playfully punched his shoulder.

  “Shut up! It’s an amazing idea! I get a trained warrior with none of the usual ego and testosterone. A woman won’t be jealous of my lifestyle. Besides, who else has a female bodyguard? I’ll be the only one; a trendsetter.”

  Faraj wiped tears from his eyes, casting a glance back at his own bodyguard with a silent expression that said can you believe this guy? The guard unsuccessfully repressed a smirk.

  When Faraj finally calmed down, he focused back in on Osman, who was silently waiting for him to finish this display.

  “So you’re determined, then, to set yourself apart?”

  “I am,” Osman said, not amused by his friend’s show of disrespect.

  Faraj sobered slightly, reading his friend’s mood. “Don’t frown so, Osman. You know I support you. I’m sure this bodyguard will be an exceptional addition to your team.”

  “Thanks,” Osman replied, his tone terse, though he was already getting over his pique. Of course he had had his own misgivings when he’d first thought of the idea. It was only when he’d been approached by a man named Connor Bates that he had been convi
nced that female guards were all the rage in America right now.

  The rest of their meal was enjoyed amiably, with Faraj providing all the latest gossip from the clubs while Osman sat back and laughed. He gave his friend a hearty handshake as he left later, slightly buzzed and feeling like a nice long nap.

  He called Adil and slid back into his air-conditioned car as the day began to heat up in earnest.

  “Where to, sir?” Adil asked.

  “Home, Adil. I’m ready to get some rest.”

  “Very good,” Adil said. As they drove on, he added, “Good news, Your Highness! The security guard Mr. Bates recommended will be here tomorrow for her interview.”

  “Excellent. When can we expect her?”

  “She should be in by late afternoon. Would you like me to pick her up from the airport, sir?”

  Osman thought for a minute. He was a man who was often told what he wanted to hear because he was wealthy. With the disaster that was his last group of guards, he wanted to really see what this woman was like for himself.

  “No,” he said, and Adil glanced back briefly in surprise.

  “Sir?” he said.

  Osman grinned. “I think I’ll pick her up myself. Remind me of her name, Adil?”

  “Beth Coolidge, sir. From Pennsylvania.”

  Such a strange, foreign name. Osman was determined to find out just exactly what kind of person Beth Coolidge was.

  THREE

  Beth

  Beth gazed out at the gleaming city below, surrounded by a seemingly endless stretch of desert. She had often wondered how anyone could live this way, in the searing heat. Being from Philadelphia, she loved the cold, and having four distinct seasons. Still, the party scene in the capital of Al-Merindha was definitely an experience, and she had fond memories of the place.

  She yawned as her plane touched down, wondering how long it would take for her to adapt to the massive time difference. She pulled out her cell and quickly texted her mom to say that she’d landed. Pocketing her phone, she stretched her aching limbs before grabbing her old camouflage carry-on bag and heading into the airport.

  The city was just as she remembered it. The terminal was filled with a mixture of people in long white robes, turbans and black abayas, while others wore T-shirts and jeans. While Western culture was embraced here, no one was wearing shorts or baring their legs, though Beth remembered shorter dresses being acceptable inside the clubs. She was glad for the time she had spent traveling, learning about different cultures. She had known exactly what to pack the moment she’d accepted the offer to come.

  As Beth made her way through the terminal, she reached for her phone again and opened up her interview acceptance email, from a man named Adil. It said she would be picked up at the baggage claim area, where a man would hold up a sign for her.

  Stepping onto an escalator, she clung to the railing as it transported her the impossibly long distance from her terminal to the baggage claim area. Honestly, everything in this city was at least forty stories too tall.

  She waited, tapping her foot impatiently against the step, stretching her neck out to see what was going on at ground level. A sea of people rushed around, crowding the baggage claim belts and grasping at bags as they circled around. A long line of suited men stood in a corner, each of them holding a sign.

  Beth strolled over and began scanning for her name. When she found it, her eyes darted up to the man holding the sign, and she nearly gasped.

  He was stunning. His brown eyes were dark as chocolate, his hair perfectly set in a way that made him look more like a frat boy than a driver. It was clear that he worked out, from the wide expanse of his shoulders under his suit jacket, and boy, he was tall. Beth always noticed tall men; she was the kind of woman that could rarely wear heels for towering over people.

  She nervously brushed a strand of brown hair behind her ear, straightening her plain black T-shirt. Suddenly she wished she’d dressed a little nicer, even though there was no way she’d have survived a sixteen-hour flight in a suit.

  The man was staring at her, his gaze intense. When she approached, his eyebrows shot straight up to his perfect hairline.

  Beth gave him a shy smile. “Hi,” she said, wondering if all the men in the Sheikh’s employ would be this handsome.

  “Hi, can I help you?” he smiled, and Beth picked up an unusual accent; a melodic combination of something European with an Arabic twist.

  “Um, yeah. I’m Beth Coolidge,” she said, pointing to his sign.

  The man tilted the sign up, then looked back at Beth. “The Beth Coolidge. Like, the one from this sign?”

  Beth sighed. She’d been awake for a really long time.

  “That would be me,” she said flatly.

  “You seem grumpy,” he said, not moving.

  This man could be her future coworker. She might even be responsible for his life. Beth tried to put on a better face.

  “I’ve been traveling for a really long time,” she said simply.

  The man eyed her military bag, then her face. He looked deeply at her, like he was sizing her up, his intense gaze creating unwanted butterflies in Beth’s stomach. A part of her wanted the attention of this handsome man. Looking at him, who wouldn’t? But at the same time, she had a job to do.

  Beth frowned. “When you’re done ogling me, can we please get out of here? I’d really like some time to prepare for this interview, and don’t appreciate being looked at like meat at the market.”

  The man frowned and moved to take her bag for her. “Apologies, miss. Here, let me take that. Of course you are weary from your journey. The car is just this way, and I’ve had an order placed to have your other luggage sent directly to the house. Your bags should arrive before we do.”

  Beth’s eyes widened in surprise. “You can do that?” she said, and the man laughed.

  This must be Adil, she thought. He had seemed so different in their email exchanges. Less confident. This man walked with purpose, his posture straight, his shoulders back. Very curious.

  He glanced down at her with a grin, and Beth’s heart did a little somersault. Stop it, she chided herself. The fact that she was reacting so strongly to this man was a strong indicator of just how long it had been since her last relationship. Part of her had liked it that way; military romances were rarely romantic, or very enjoyable, in her experience.

  “Of course! What world are you living in?” he asked with a twinkle of humor in his eye.

  “The real one, I imagine,” she replied.

  He slowed his pace and glanced down at her again as they made their way through a sliding glass door and into baking hot heat. The temperature change was abrupt, and brought back vivid memories of all the times she’d served in the region. How strange to be back under such different circumstances.

  “And what is life like, in the real world?” he asked.

  Beth had to crane her neck to meet his gaze, which was new for her. “Oh I don’t know,” she replied, nodding as he opened her door and gave her time to slide into the refreshingly cool car. It was a black Rolls Royce, the seats made of soft, cream-colored leather.

  Adil opened the trunk and put in her bag, before sliding into the driver’s seat. “You were saying?”

  “What?” she asked, her gaze on the horizon, a mass of skyscrapers and palm trees.

  “About the real world. What it’s really like?” He asked, pulling the car into traffic.

  “Oh, right. Well, the real world is a place where people have to actually deal with little annoyances. You know, like waiting for your baggage at the claim, or waiting to hail a cab, or waiting for someone to come pick you up.”

  “Sounds like a lot of waiting,” Adil said, pulling onto the highway. “I don’t think I could stand it.”

  “Why not? I imagine you have to do a lot of it on behalf of your employer,” she said.

  Adil cleared his throat, avoiding the question. “So, tell me about yourself. Who is Beth Coolidge?”

  Beth
groaned inwardly. She would already have to present her best face to some sheikh in a little while. She tried to remember the last time she’d slept, and couldn’t. She rubbed her eyes, which felt like hot, red sandpaper and leaned back into the seat.

  “Well, I’m a veteran of the United States Navy, well-versed in a variety of combat styles. I know my way around a gun. I was honorably discharged a month ago, and now I’m here trying to see if I can find a way to support my mother.”

  “Does your mother need a lot of help?” he asked, glancing back in the rearview mirror.

  Beth gazed out the window for a moment before she spoke. “She won’t admit it, but I think she does. My dad died two years ago, and she’s been on her own ever since. My dad had a good chunk of money put away in life insurance, but it’s not like she hasn’t had bills to pay and things to pay off. I just want to make sure she lives comfortably. I want her to be secure. I want her safe,” Beth breathed. She was so tired that she didn’t much care that she was confiding in a complete stranger.