SHEIKH DENIED - completed

Chapter One

"Yes, Sheikh," she asked softly, knowing that would royally peeve him off but didn't care. She was tired and wanted to go back to her room. So she could just veg out. Not that he would know what that meant. He never vegged out. He never stopped to smell the roses. It's about time he did, standing. "I'd deal with this tomorrow," she grabbed the papers, turned, and walked away. He sucked in a sharp breath behind her. She waved the papers above her head. "I'd read it first thing, promise." 

There was a movie beckoning her.

"For heaven's sake Charlotte, what is wrong with you?" he asked, staggered. "Ever since we arrived here, you have been in this irritable, strange mood. Do I have to send you home?" he asked exasperated.

Lottie stopped and turned around, astonished. "I am home," she said softly. "Since I've been here I haven't seen a single member of my family or one of my friends. Why? Because you won't let me!" she finished, voice raised, and chest heaving. 

So unlike her. She was all over the place, waiting for his reaction. She never raised her voice at him. Never, blinking back tears. Apologise now, before it was too late. Her lips parted, but the words failed to come. Oh dear, she was losing it, and bad.

His dark brows furrowed together, perplexed. "I don't pay you to visit your family or friends, Miss Johnson." Oh, yes, back to that. It had taken ages for him to stop calling her that from day one, from Miss Charlotte, then Charlotte. Not a Lottie insight. 

He always looked so offended, when she suggested such things, so stopped. She had called him Zaid from the first five minutes she had entered his office, in this very hotel, four years ago. She had been so thrilled, so over the moon. Now she felt drained. Emotional drained.

"Of course, you don't, however, when do I ever get time off for me? Just me? I've been running after you for the last four years. I do everything for you, everything you ask, and I bet you don't even know what the colour of my eyes is." She lowered her eyes, so he couldn't see them.

"Let's see, the colour of your eyes. Vivid blue, when bright and happy, to dark sea blue when annoyed, heaven forbid when like this, stormy dark skies." Her eyes flew up to him. "Under the right light, violet. All different shades of blues depending on your mood. Anything else?" Stunned, she held up her hair. "Very messy, not your usual groomed self, then again, those monstrous things on your feet, leave a lot to be desired."

"Arrgh," she fumed. "There is nothing wrong with my slippers. They keep my feet warm. We are in Melbourne, not the Middle East. I'm so over it. The sand, the heat, and you!" 

She threw the papers at him, and stormed out, slamming the door behind her in frustration. He knew every shade of her eyes but nothing about her. Not a thing! She fled back to her room, pulling off her caftan as she headed towards her room, changing again. 

Thrown some clothes into a case, and headed out, slippers and all.

Frowning, Zaid stared at the papers scattered across the floor of his study, his mind reeling by all this fuss over nothing. Then again she had been a bit touchy lately. He gathered up the pieces of paper, and left, leaving his suite, waving away his guard. It wasn't like he was leaving his floor that was guarded on both ends. No one could enter or leave without his acknowledgement, removing his mobile as it buzzed, answering. 

"Yes." He stopped dead. "What? No, of course not. Put her on. What are you doing now?!" he demanded to know. This was getting beyond a joke.

A long sigh came over the phone. "Nothing." There was so much defeat in her voice, and this wasn't the Charlotte, he had relied on.

"Nowhere with a case?" he pressed, still finding it hard to believe, she thought she could leave, without him knowing.

"Just my laundry," she offered.