Page 27 of Her Irresistible Sheik (Al-Sintra Family #9)

“Now that we’re…” she paused, glancing around, then sighed, “…in a mysterious place that presumably isn’t on the map, will you please tell me what’s going on?

” Nahla demanded, stepping through the massive double doors and taking in the stone structure.

Judging by the architecture, she guessed the place was at least three hundred years old.

Did it even have electricity? What about running water?

“Relax,” Mikail chuckled, placing a hand at the small of her back and guiding her through another set of double doors—this pair made of thick wood studded with iron.

Still, she had no idea where they were or why they were here.

Just this morning, she’d been chatting with Heather about her next baking lesson when Mikail had strode in and said, “We need to leave. Now.” Then he’d grabbed her hand and practically hauled her out of the kitchens.

Nahla had barely managed a wave to Heather before they were whisked away.

A helicopter had been waiting on the rooftop, with armed guards literally hanging off the sides, scanning the terrain behind their dark aviator sunglasses.

She knew they had a strategy for protecting people, but she didn’t know the details. What she did know was that she’d been yanked out of a normal day into… whatever this was.

“I need a drink,” she whispered.

“I can arrange that,” Mikail replied, continuing to lead her through the long, dimly lit corridors. The stone passageways felt more like tunnels, but they did have electric lights, which answered one of her questions.

A moment later, he led her into a surprisingly large room with sofas and thick carpets insulating the cold stone floors. He dropped his hand, and she immediately missed the warmth of it.

She stood still, eyes scanning the eclectic decor as Mikail crossed to what appeared to be a bar. The furniture was a curious blend of modern and ancient, with a mix of textures that shouldn’t have worked together—but somehow did.

“What is this place?” she asked.

He poured two glasses of wine, and she had to stop herself from requesting something stronger.

“This is my bunker,” he explained, carrying the glasses back to her. “It looks rustic, but it has all the amenities.”

She raised an eyebrow at the roughly hewn ceiling. “Are you sure?”

He chuckled, the sound soft and genuine—startling, even. He’d been tense all day. What had changed now?

“I’m sure,” he said with quiet confidence.

She took a sip of wine and wandered slowly around the room. “I’m guessing the internet connection isn’t great here?”

“There’s internet,” he assured her. “And running water, electricity, and all the comforts of home.” He looked around with a faint smile. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but that’s part of the point. If there’s a serious threat, this is where I go.”

“Have you used it before?”

“I’ve been here, but never for a prolonged period of time.”

“Until now,” she said flatly. “What’s going on?” She watched his face, catching the hesitation in his eyes. “All of it,” she pressed. “I want to know everything that brought us here.”

Mikail exhaled and gestured to a sofa in the corner. “You’re going to want to sit down for this.”

She frowned, then sighed and walked over, perching on the edge. Resting the base of her wine glass on her knees, she braced herself. “That means you’ve been hiding something from me. Okay. I’m sitting. Tell me what you know.”

He sat down next to her, but with a foot of space between them.

“There was some blood and a tooth found in the kitchen after the day you made the…uh…scones.” He rubbed a hand across his mouth, and Nahla was pretty sure he was trying not to smile at the memory of her failed baking attempt.

“Then we discovered a bottle of your perfume knocked over in your suite the night you slept in the library.”

Nahla’s head tilted at that comment. “I noticed that. Why is that a concern?”

“Because none of the cleaning staff broke it. Plus, your bodyguards heard a noise that night and went in to investigate. The bottle was knocked over around three thirty in the morning. The cleaning crew doesn’t come through at that time of night.”

She stared at him, her mouth falling open. “So… someone got into my suite and was…?”

“Hiding under your makeup table, is the current assumption.”

Nahla pressed a hand to her forehead, suddenly unable to appreciate the beautiful antiques around her. Her thoughts raced back to that night—the misery of being kissed and the aching sadness after Mikail had walked away. And then the sweet, gentle way he’d woken her the next morning.

She looked at Mikail, ready to speak, but his expression warned her there was more.

“What else?”

He hesitated, and for a moment, Nahla suspected he didn’t want to tell her.

“Mikail, I have to assume whatever you’re holding back is why we’re here.

So please don’t hide anything from me. I’m not a child.

I don’t need to be shielded from the dangers in the world.

” She stood, setting her wine glass on a nearby low table.

Crossing her arms, she paced a few steps away.

“I need to know what’s happening.” She turned to face him again, her glare direct and unwavering.

“What’s going on, Mikail?” she asked, her voice soft but firm.

“The man who is trying to hurt you was in the courtyard while you were practicing archery this morning.”

Silence.

She stood still, lips pressed together, replaying the morning in her head. Then, in a shaky voice, she asked, “How do you know?”

“There was a bloody arrow. And we captured the man on several security tapes.”

She stiffened, stunned that anyone had gotten that close. “I shot him with my arrow? The famous assassin, Clyde? I actually hit him?”

“Apparently,” he said, voice grim.

Her expression brightened with disbelief and pride. “I shot an infamous assassin?” she whispered in awe.

Mikail leaned back against the sofa, finally relaxing as her glow of triumph lit up the room. He chuckled. “Apparently.”

“Where?” she asked, eyes wide.

“In the courtyard?” he asked, puzzled.

“No,” she said, waving that off. “Where on his body did I hit him?”

“Ah.” He nodded, pursing his lips for a moment. “We think he was shot in the butt. The security cameras caught him limping down the hallway with a bloodstain on the back of his pants, but we won’t know for sure until we capture him.”

Nahla bounced on her toes and did a delighted spin before facing Mikail again. “So, I took down an assassin!” She mock-glared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this earlier?”

He shook his head, surprise in his eyes. “Because I was worried it would frighten you.”

Nahla huffed. “What frightens me is the unknown , Mikail.” She stepped forward and jabbed a finger into his chest. “What frightens me is not understanding why someone is dragging me out into the middle of nowhere without explanation.”

Mikail caught her hand and pressed it against his chest. “What else frightens you?”

In a single breath, the air between them shifted. Heat, awareness, anticipation.

She stared up at him, not sure what he meant—but very aware of how close he’d pulled her.

“You’re not going to kiss me again, Mikail,” she whispered. But her eyes flicked to his mouth, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“I’m not?” he murmured.

“No,” she breathed.

“Why not?”

“Because you run away afterwards.”

“I never run from anything,” he growled, pulling her even closer. He took her wine glass from her hand, downed the contents, and set it aside without looking.

“You ran away last time,” she reminded him.

He shook his head slowly. “No. I respectfully stepped away to give you space. I wasn’t supposed to kiss you.”

Her breath caught as he closed the final gap between them. Her breasts and stomach pressed against his chest and groin. She felt him—his strength, his heat, his desire—so close, so unmistakable.

Tilting her head back, she looked up into his eyes. “Why aren’t you supposed to kiss me?”

“Your cousin asked me to protect you, damn it!” he protested, but there wasn’t much heat in his voice. “I’m not supposed to feel like this!”

“Like you want me?” she interjected, leaning into him as he tightened his grip, pulling her closer, then leaned back, his arm supporting her.

He stared down at her, his eyes moving from her eyes to her lips. “That wasn’t part of the agreement.”

“But you do,” she asked, needing clarification. “Want me, that is.”

He hesitated and she watched as his jaw clenched right along with his fingers. She knew the exact moment he gave in. “Yes!”

“Excellent,” she whispered, feeling nervous and excited. “Now how about you kiss me again, and this time, don’t run–”

His mouth covered hers, taking her breath away along with her words.

And wow, what a kiss! The hunger in him made her moan as she kissed him back.

Nahla felt his hands moving over her, sliding along her waist, then higher, one hand cupping her head and shifting her so that he could deepen the kiss.

His other hand moved lower, pulling her leg higher so that he could press himself more intimately against her.

He lifted her into his arms. Nahla wrapped her arms around his neck for balance while he carried her out of the room. She had no idea where they were going, and didn’t care, as long as the kissing continued.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Nahla beamed and there it was, that damn sparkle! “Yes!” she whispered, then leaned in to kiss him, holding his head so that she could deepen the kiss.

That was what he needed to hear. Mikail didn’t hesitate again.

His hands moved over her body, slipping under the tee-shirt to find her breasts.

They were perfect! they fit into his hands like they had been designed just for him.

He pulled his hands away from her breasts, chuckling at her whimper of disapproval.

He stopped kissing her only long enough to pull the tee-shirt off, tossing it aside.