Page 24 of Her Irresistible Sheik (Al-Sintra Family #9)

Mikail jumped in alarm when something thudded against the conference room window. The meeting had technically ended, with most participants already filed out, but one of his military advisors had asked to “have a word.” That conversation came to an abrupt halt as both men turned toward the sound.

Mikail strode over to the tall glass window and looked down.

An arrow lay on the stone balcony just below the sill.

“Istem!” he barked, raising his voice toward the hallway.

The guard stepped into the conference room instantly, his stance crisp and alert. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Someone is shooting arrows at the window!” Mikail pointed to the offending projectile, already imagining a dozen security protocol breaches. “Get someone—!”

He stopped mid-command at the subtle flicker of amusement on Istem’s usually stoic face. The guard’s eyes dropped, and he tapped twice at his shoulder, signaling over his radio “no threat”.

“The area is secure, Your Highness,” Istem said calmly. “The arrow came from Princess Nahla. She’s… practicing.”

Mikail blinked. “Practicing what?”

“Archery, sir. She found a set of bow and arrows in the palace sports cabinet and has been working on her aim for the past hour or so.”

“A bow and…?” Mikail turned toward the window again, disbelieving. “Why the hell is she playing with bow and arrows?”

“She was bored,” Istem replied with a shrug that wasn’t quite a shrug.

“Her maid mentioned she’s been working late nights on her computer.

When she asked for something new to do, someone suggested she try looking through the sports gear.

” He gestured subtly. “The palace maintains equipment for just about everything—cricket, tennis, polo, fencing…”

Another sharp thunk sounded at the glass.

Mikail’s eye twitched. “And she picked archery,” he said flatly.

Without another word, he turned to the military advisor beside him. “Thank you for your information in the meeting, General.”

Then he was striding out of the conference room, confusion and growing concern tightening his stride. Why archery? Had something happened? Was she nervous? Did she not feel safe?

He took the shorter route to the courtyard, the one directly adjacent to his office wing and meeting chambers.

No one should’ve been using that space. It was highly secure, with limited access.

But in hindsight, he could understand why his staff would’ve directed Nahla there instead of the larger but less guarded lawn near the stables.

Still, all understanding evaporated when an arrow zipped past his right shoulder.

Mikail jerked back, eyes narrowing at the faint clatter of the arrow landing harmlessly behind him. There’d been so little power behind it, it wouldn’t have pierced his shirt—let alone skin—but still.

“Nahla!” he called out, announcing his presence sharply.

She spun around. Thankfully, there was no arrow notched in her bow. But there was also no sheepish grin, no teasing smile—just a wide-eyed expression of guilt.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, his tone sharper than he’d intended. His eyes scanned the courtyard: there were arrows everywhere. The target was straight in front of her. The arrow that had nearly hit him? How the hell had she shot backwards?

The idea defied every known law of physics.

Nahla flinched, then… actually tried to hide the bow behind her back.

He stared at the very obvious tip of the bow sticking up above her head.

Adorable. Absolutely ridiculous—and utterly adorable.

Then she smiled. That damned sparkle appeared, and he nearly groaned.

“Nothing!” she chirped brightly, stepping to the side in what had to be the world’s least subtle attempt at a diversion.

Mikail bent down, picked up the rogue arrow, and stood again, twirling it in his fingers as he arched an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

With a dramatic sigh, Nahla surrendered.

She brought the bow back around, holding it loosely in one hand like it had personally betrayed her.

“I’m trying to learn a new skill, okay?” Her expression soured slightly as she glanced at the scattered arrows.

“Clearly I’m not good at it yet, but I’m improving. ”

He held up the arrow between two fingers, pointing the feathered end toward her. “This one flew behind you.”

She looked slightly abashed at his comment and shifted her weight to the other foot. “Yeah, well, it’s not the easiest of sports.”

“Why did you choose archery?” he asked, casually strolling through the courtyard as he picked up scattered arrows.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It seemed interesting. And more mathematical than sweat-based.”

She flexed the fingers on her right hand, clearly feeling the unfamiliar strain.

He nodded toward the bow in her grip. “Let me see what you’re doing. Maybe I can offer a few tips.”

Nahla narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “And I suppose you’re an expert?”

“I’m not an Olympian,” he replied with a lazy smile, “but I can hold my own in a competition.”

She gave him a look that hovered somewhere between curiosity and challenge. After a long pause, she finally sighed and turned. “Fine. I guess I should take whatever help I can get.”

He handed her the arrows he’d gathered, and she laid them on the grass beside her, notching one and squaring her shoulders.

After taking a breath and trying to focus, she lifted the bow, pulled back the string, and released. The arrow veered wildly to the right.

“You’re putting too much pressure on your string hand.” Mikail walked over and gently took her right hand in his. With practiced ease, he massaged her fingers. “Your wrist’s starting to fatigue, I’d guess?”

“Yeah.” She tilted her head. “What am I doing wrong with the tension?”

He stepped behind her. “Notch another one.”

She did, silently adjusting her grip.

“Ease up on the string.” He touched her fingers softly. “Shift more pressure to your front hand—like this.”

He demonstrated, adjusting her grip and stance.

Over the next thirty minutes, she shot again and again, and to her immense satisfaction, her aim steadily improved.

Two out of ten arrows actually hit the target.

The rest… well, at least none of them crashed into windows or ricocheted off stone.

That one rogue arrow from earlier was best left unspoken.

“Try again,” Mikail murmured. This time, he stepped closer, his chest brushing lightly against her back.

Nahla tensed slightly, hyper-aware of his warmth and strength as he wrapped his arms around her and helped guide her posture. His hand over hers, they pulled the string together.

She released—and the arrow hit dead center with a satisfying thunk!

Nahla gasped. “I did it!” She spun around and threw her arms around him in excitement. “I actually did it!”

Then she stepped back quickly, laughing. “Okay, we did it. But still, that was incredibly satisfying!”

Mikail stood frozen, staring at her. His brain registered nothing except the bounce of her breasts under her T-shirt and the sparkle in her eyes.

When she bent down to grab another arrow, he took a very strategic step backward—because if she leaned back even an inch, things were about to get far more complicated.

From a safer distance, he watched her fire again—and land another solid shot near the center ring.

She squealed with triumph, bouncing slightly on her toes, and he nearly groaned.

“Seems like you’ve figured it out,” Mikail said, clearing his throat. “I’ll let you get back to it. I have work to do.”

He turned, walking briskly toward the doorway. But halfway across the courtyard, he paused to ask one of the servants to bring Nahla an umbrella to shield her from the sun.

An hour later, sitting in a stuffy council meeting, Mikail had no recollection of anything that had been discussed. His mind kept returning to the feeling of her soft body against his chest… and the wild joy in her eyes when she’d struck her target.