Sheikh's Untouched Woman

By: Kylie Knight

Prologue

One year ago

“Serena my love, it is time for me to choose a wife.”

Serena O’Brien stilled, one hand still tangled in her auburn waves from Raffir’s passionate kiss. She was in love with Raffir al-Jazzari, crown Sheikh from the land of Maju-ul but until this moment she hadn’t been sure of his feelings. Sure he always called her ‘my love’ or ‘love’ but the only time he truly displayed emotions was in the bedroom. Now, she smiled, he was getting ready to propose. “You must do what is expected of you,” she calmly agreed knowing that to lead his country he would need a bride at his side. She was more than prepared to leave the life she had planned back in Auckland behind in order to be with him.

He smiled, those beautiful white teeth sparkling between a set of dimples so stunning she was momentarily blinded. “I’m glad you understand.” Raffi’s posture relaxed at her understanding tone. He was prepared for tears, screams and pleading but Serena had, of course, acted true to her name.

She gave him a sweet smile like she always did, from the first day she’d met him in the gardens of Versailles. She’d only been in Paris for a week when she’d made her first trip to the famed castle, determined to soak up all the history and culture she could during her graduate studies.

Raffi startled her out of her reverie of the statutes hidden in small coves along the gardens. “Such a beauty exploring the beauty Versailles has to offer. Appropriate, I think.”

She’d turned at the sound of the deep voice with the intoxicating accent and gasped in surprise at the man before her. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, including the photos she’d studied as a History major in Australia. His ebony hair was wavy and natural. She had a feeling no curls would dare fall out of place. His eyes captivated her, they were mostly gold with flecks of brown and green and his knowing smile showed off dimples that added a boyish charm to his intimidating good looks. “This place has a lot of beauty to offer.”

“As do you, I’m sure.”

She’d noticed his smug smile and was sure he’d pegged her as an easy lay. Boy would he be surprised, she thought as she took the hand he offered. “Serena O’Brien,” she offered, immediately ripping her hand away from his at the electric charge that stung her.

“I am Raffir al-Jazzari, but you Serena may call me Raffi.”

And she had called him Raffi when he picked her up for their first date at a quiet restaurant overlooking the Seine and again when he’d kissed her goodnight on the steps of her apartment in the Quarter Chinois. She’d absorbed that kiss as the sights, sounds and smells of Chinatown swarmed around. It was sweet but it held a passion she had never experienced. “Wow,” was about as eloquent as she could be while her knees were threatening to upend her.

“Wow, indeed,” he’d said with a chuckle.

She knew her inexperience had shone under the onslaught of his expert kiss and her fair skin couldn’t conceal her response. “I’ve never had a kiss quite like that before,” she murmured her fingers brushing over lips that still tingled.

She’d called him Raffi when he returned day after day with flowers, gourmet macaroons, and delicious Parisian food. He’d been a better guide than she could have possibly imagined, showing her nooks and crannies of the city she would never find on her own.

From that moment on Raffi was never far from her side. He’d moved her into a nicer apartment with a view of the Eiffel Tower and lavished her with gifts. When she wasn’t in class or working on her dissertation, she was with Raffi exploring every kilometer of France and making love sweeter than she had ever known.

She knew he’d have to return to Maju-ul soon and let his CEO takeover his business interests as he took up the throne. She would still be in Paris finishing school for another year and a half and their relationship would be over.

Never in a million years had she thought she would be standing here in Paris wearing fancy silk pajamas while Raffi, a Sheikh was preparing to make her his wife. She smiled, after she said yes she would tell him of the baby they had created that weekend two months ago in Rome.

“I must return to Maju-ul and begin looking for a bride.”

“What?” Serena rubbed her chest, willing it to start beating again. “You’re l-l-looking for a wife? What about me?”

His head fell, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. A sign of frustration she knew well. “Serena you said you understood.”

“I understood that you needed to take a wife, I guess I misunderstood that it wouldn’t be me.”

“A man doesn’t marry his mistress.”

It was that moment when her world stopped spinning and Serena had to grasp the sturdy wooden table to keep her standing. Mistress. This whole time she had been his mistress and she, stupid girl that she was, thought they were falling in love. She was numb as she looked around the room, failing to recognize what her life had become, who she had become. It was all a mistake. She had to move, start moving to piece together the new future that awaited her. “Okay,” she said absently as she scanned the room in search of her belongings, not the toys and frill bought for a mistress. “Okay,” she repeated in the bedroom as she pulled her casual student clothes from the drawers.

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