A couple was still speaking with the maître d’ when I reached the second floor, and since this part of the restopub was strictly by reservation, I didn’t hesitate to give my name when it was my turn. I waited for the maître d’ to check his reservation book like he had with the other couple but the man only nodded, saying with a smile, “Let me escort you to your table, Ms. Teller.”
SOB was a VIP here, I guessed right away, and no doubt I wasn’t the first girl he had brought to this place. The thought pissed me off for some reason, and the fact that it did pissed me off even more.
I looked around as we walked farther inside. Since the place was built like an arena, everyone in the second floor could enjoy the view of all the dancing going on below, and the first thing I saw was the DJ fist-pumping the air as he hyped the crowd from his booth.
“I’ll take it from here, Phil.”
The hatefully familiar drawl startled me out of my observations, and I heard the maître d’ murmur in assent as I reluctantly turned to face my tormentor. I had been hoping that I could’ve remembered him wrong, and that the reality of him would be far less attractive.
But…nope.
If anything, my memories of him seriously paled in comparison, and the SOB in the flesh was even sexier and more devastatingly handsome than I allowed myself to remember.
Raven black hair that would make any woman wish she could run her fingers through its locks. Dark eyes that could seduce with a single sizzling glance. And that to-die-for body…
Stop lusting after the enemy, you idiot!
My jaw clenched, and I fought to keep my face expressionless as my gaze finally lifted to meet his. He was dressed in a gray wool suit tonight. It looked expensive, naturally. No tie, but he did have a fancy silk handkerchief peeking out of his breast pocket.
Behind him, I could see women glancing his way all the time, all of them clearly hoping they’d have the chance to catch his eye, and none of them obviously caring he wasn’t alone. Then again, why would they?
This guy could have any woman in the room, and yet here he was with me, an ordinary-looking, potty-mouthed undergrad who had only come here to meet him under duress.
I could feel the women glaring at me as the SOB came close. “You look beautiful, habibti.” He reached for me as he spoke, and I nearly jerked when his hand rested against my bare back. Hot, I thought in panic. His touch was so ridiculously hot against my skin, and it had me burning up in a flash.
“Thank you for wearing a dress,” he murmured.
“You didn’t exactly leave me a choice,” I muttered under my breath, but the SOB only ignored this, and instead I felt a gentle pressure against my back as he ushered me towards our table.
While most of the other tables in the restaurant were facing inwards and towards the dance floor, ours was directly set against the window and offered a fantastic night view of the city. It would’ve been perfect, really, except for the fact that instead of chairs, we had a two-seater bar bench to share between us.
“I don’t think we’d fit,” I said right away. “Maybe we should ask—-”
“We’ll make it work, habibti.”
A moment later, and my worst fears were confirmed, with both of us squeezed up so closely against each other it almost as if we were one.
I could feel him watching me, but I stubbornly kept my gaze straight ahead and fought to keep still even as I felt him lean closer…and closer…until he was facing me directly, and as his thigh pressed hard against mine, my body temperature, already feverish, sky-rocketed.
“Why are you so determined to fight this?” The words, whispered straight into my ear, nearly had me jumping out of my skin.
Shit!
I instinctively tried moving away, but his arm, resting against the back of the bench, was around me in an instant.
“Let go,” I hissed under my breath.
Instead of answering me, I felt his fingers slowly trail up until they were wrapped around my nape, and a moment later, it was that pressure again…like a gentle but inflexible command.
He wanted me to face him…and I found myself doing as ordered.
Because I have no choice, I told myself, and not because I liked him ordering me around.
When his dark gaze captured mine, the glitter of lust I saw in his eyes made me catch my breath.
Ever since that day Dahlia impersonated me, I had never allowed myself to have any male friends, much less let a man come this close to me, so damn close that when I looked into the sheikh’s eyes, I could read exactly what he was thinking.