"What the fuck are you doing?"
—-until I realize what he's just snapped out in front of Miami's rich and famous.
Chapter Seven
What an asshole!
Did he just effin' growl those words for everyone to hear?
Is this royal SOB implying I don't belong here?
"—-dressed like that?"
Oh, okay.
I was jumping to conclusions, apparently, and he's not actually questioning my presence in a party like this.
Rather, he's just publicly insulting the way I look...which isn't exactly any better.
"What part of 'you're mine' did you not fucking get?"
Great, just great.
He's dropping more F-bombs than a B-17, and—-wait.
Did I assume wrong again?
Was he angry, not because I'm here, but because I'm dressed in a gown that - in Story's words - has my boobs about to fall out?
And did he just say I'm...his?
My stunned gaze flies up to him, and the sheikh glares down at me.
"Are you jealous?" I gasp out.
"I don't do jealous," the sheikh dismisses with a curl of his lip while shrugging out of his jacket. "But I damn well do possessive—-"
And that's how I suddenly end up with his jacket dumped over my shoulders.
"So if you dare try taking that off—-" The sheikh breaks off in a curse when he sees me already doing just that.
I shove his jacket back at him. "You have no right—-"
"Of course I have every right," the sheikh hisses, "since you belong to me!"
And there it was again.
Why does he keep saying those words when everything else he does and say is the opposite? How can he say that - how dare he say that...when he's able to disappear from my life for days?
"Come with me," the sheikh says all of a sudden, and I'm tempted to laugh and cry. How does he do it? Why does it seem like he's so attuned to my feelings, that he knows the exact moment I'm close to breaking down?
Story, Tahey, and even Ms. Yay start nudging each other as the sheikh takes my hand in a possessive grip, and I almost smile despite everything. Tomorrow's lunch is definitely a go, if only to give those girls a chance to grill me to death for deets.
The sheikh leads me to a dark, secluded spot in the Leventis' garden, and my heart skips a beat when moonlight reveals the way he's staring at me.
"I missed you."
My heart races even faster, but I tell myself I can't give in just yet. "If you really missed me," I say flatly, "then why haven't I heard from you for days?"
"Is that your way of saying you missed me, too?"
"You didn't answer my question."
"Nor did you answer mine."
"Why do you always have to have the last word?"
"Because it's who I am—-"
I can only gasp as the sheikh hauls me right up against his body, just so he can croon into my ears—-
"And you wouldn't want me any other way. Would you?"
The sheikh smirks down at me, but his cocky attitude disappears the moment he sees my lip start to tremble. "Seven—-"
"Just tell me why," I mutter. "Why did you stay away for days?"
A pained look etches over the sheikh's features. "I wanted you to have a chance—-"
"What kind of chance? A chance to forget you?" I ask numbly.
He suddenly lets go, and I'm left feeling empty and scared.
"Do you really not know?" he demands.
I shake my head, and frustration flashes in his eyes.
"How can you not know—-?"
The growl in his voice makes me raise my own voice. "Why don't you just tell me—-"
"Because you looked genuinely happy with him," the sheikh snarls. "Seeing you with him made me realize I might've taken advantage of your inexperience by sweeping you off your feet, but if you were given a chance to think things over, you would choose him over me."
I can only look at him now, torn once again between laughing and crying.
Oh, this sheikh and his choices.
It always has to be a choice with him, but...as cheesy as this sounds, and I know this doesn't sound like me at all, but...doesn't he realize that our hearts are born knowing whom they're beating for from the very start?
"I saw how you were with him," the sheikh says broodingly. "You smile and laugh with him in a way that you've never had with me."
"I've known him for years," I protest.
"And there's the way you look at that boy," Sheikh Saif grates out. "You think he's kind, don't you?"
"Because he is!"
"And what about me?" he growls. "Do you not think I can be kind, too?"
"Um..."
Shit.
What can I say without having to lie?
How can I say he's kind when we started off the wrong foot, and within the first twenty-four hours of meeting him, I've had myself held at gunpoint, blackmailed, and made to orgasm against my will?
"Well..."
The sheikh's jaw clenches. "It's fine. You don't—-"
Sheikh Saif stops speaking when I tiptoe and cover his mouth with my hand.