Shihab had finished early, and what he had been hearing, he was far from impressed, too busy to notice at first. The long hours she spent in the night. He should've kept her in his bed, and then he would've known if she got a proper amount of sleep.
Shaking his head, Shihab crossed the room and flipped closed the lid of the laptop she was staring out, hypnotised by the glaring screen. "No! No! You can't," she wailed.
"Enough Andrea," she stared at him in horror, as if her whole world had fallen apart. Taking her hand, he guided her off the bed into his arms. "You need a break."
"I have deadlines," she cried.
"And I have you," his arms tightened around her. She buried her face into his soft light blue cashmere jumper-covered chest.
"I can't think, my mind is blank. I have no idea what I am doing. I'm insane. I shouldn't be doing this."
"Always doubting yourself. Time for another lesson." Her chestnut head slowly rose, eyeing him off.
"For what?" She asked curiosity piqued.
"Dancing, of course. We have a formal dinner to attend soon before we head back, and Miles is breathing down my neck to bring back his girl. I don't want you falling over my big fat feet." She looked down at his black Italian classy shoes.
"You have great feet. It's more to do with the stabbing and pain. I could wear flats," she thought over. "Or maybe no dancing. Unless the chicken dance is involved," she asked looking up.
"We are not doing the chicken dance, ever!"
"If you want my tush shaking in that belly dancing outfit then perhaps you need to rethink that, only in private," she promised. He looked at her doubtfully, yet shrugged. "Shaking tush," she purred, leaning up against him.
He arched a brow. "The seven veil dance?" He inquired.
"Oh, the one where the veils detach," she said in a low, husky voice, moving against him. Her eye popped open. "That's what is missing. Yes, yes, yes, the dance of the seven veils!"
"Hey, how come, my counterpart gets a dance and I don't?"
Happily, she kissed him on the lips. "Okay, let's have that lesson. I don't want to make a fool of you."
"You never could, but I wasn't talking about that kind of dance."
"Don't worry, you will," she grabbed his hand, walked him out of the room, and headed towards his bedroom.
"Just what do you have in mind, Andrea?" He asked with interest.
"My dance lesson in private. Do you want the staff to know I have two left feet?"
"Why not? They think you are the bee's knees."
"Do they?" She grinned. "So do bees have knees?"
"Andrea," he moaned, pulled into the bedroom, the door closing as she kicked off her ballet-style shoes.
Shihab swept her up into his arms and swirled her around, both laughing. Keeping her safe in his arm, he reached for the remote control and soon had soft music flowing through hidden speakers, slow and seductive.
Arm around her neck, she was swirled out towards the end of the large bed, where there was a large open area to practice their dancing in. "You have improved my love," he pointed out.
"You lead and I follow," she promised. True to her word, her hand tightly gripped in his, he waltzed her around the room and she went with him, mind you, her feet barely touched the floor, heart soaring as she gazed into his eyes and was lost, guiding his head down and kissed him. She loved him so much and told him. He faltered, to still, and gathered her hard against his frame. "From the beginning, I think."
He smiled. "My dear sweet innocent that is called lust."
"Nope," she shook her head in denial. "You were everything I have ever dreamed of, my love."
"So why did you drop eagle spread? Pity I missed that."
"Caught up in the moment. Sorry baby, really I am, and I am glad you didn't. I felt foolish enough as it was. Just been writing a shoot-out scene, ducking for cover. Number one fan, hand in pocket, and voila the rest is history."
"Of course, makes perfect sense to you," he laughed kissing her. "No wonder I love you so much Andrea May," he swept her up into his arms. "Let's get married here and now."
Shocked, she stepped back. "What did you say?"
"Let's get married here and now."
Startled, she looked up at him. "What about your family?"
"They would meet my wife. We have to go home, after the filming. There are a few things I have to discuss with my brother."
"Hashim?"
"No. My oldest one, he runs the country." She stepped into him.
"And you don't mind?"
He cradled her head against his chest. "No, not at all. Don't want the job. Happily doing what I'm doing."
Her hands clamped behind his shoulders to hold him to her. "Ah, the business side. That's what you do, seeing to the financial side of things."
"Yes, also, have my portfolio as well. I do have my own money in my rights." She clutched at his jumper.
"If we do this, I want one of those papers, where your money is yours and mine is mine."
He threaded fingers through her hair and tilted her head back, holding her gaze with his. "As your husband, I would see to all your needs and of course, what is yours is yours. I would never take that from you."
"I know that. I just wanted you to be protected, if anything goes wrong. I mean it Shihab; I don't want a cent from you or your family. I'm not marrying you for financial gain."
"Well," he drawled, "you have no claims of the royal family money."
"Good," she breathed a sigh of relief.
"And what is mine is yours."
"Then it should work both ways, everything I have is yours, except for my parent's house," she added thoughtfully. "I'm giving it back to my family. They might have taken me to court, but I didn't give it back either."
"Habibti, you were in no position to do so at the time."
She cradled his face in her hands. "And you, my love, are very biased towards me. I could have done so when I started making my own money, but I kept it. Maybe there is a bit of that writer in me." He frowned, confused. She sighed kissing him. "The revengeful heroine, who trips the blond into camel dung."
He choked, covering her hand on his face and brought it to his lips and kissed, eyes twinkling then narrowed. "And you were painting me as that clueless delusional poor Sheikh!" She shook her head sharply. "Andrea!" He moaned. "I had no choice. I had to keep her, where I could keep an eye on her, and away from my brother."
She licked suddenly dry lips. "She was driving me up the wall," she protested. "What about my cut-up cord, my credit cards, and her going on and on and on about you and the people you knew," she moaned to be gathered against his frame and kissed deeply. "If you think that's going to make me forget the worse thing of all, you are delusional," she whispered, lips softened, melted in his arms.
"What's that, my love?" He kissed her again, leisurely enjoying the treasures of his soon-to-be wife.
"Offering her apart in my film."
Laughing, he kissed her again, and swung her up into his arms, carrying her to the bed and sinking onto, with her on his lap, cradled in his arms. His hand brushed over the side of her breast. She trembled in his arm at his touch, losing herself under his burning gaze. "Soon you would be mine in every way. Leave everything to me."
The following day she was told to have a luxurious bath that had been set up for her with scented oils and rose petals that she did enjoy. She emerged into the bedroom Shihab had insisted she used, while she was here.
Emerging into the bedroom, towel drying her hair, she nearly tripped over her feet at the dress waiting for her on the bed. She crossed over and fingered the beautiful ivory lace dress. A wedding dress, if she wasn't mistaken.
Old lace and intricate embroidery stole her breath away. There was a knock on the door; she raced over to open it, expecting Shihab, finding a strange woman there instead.
"Good morning, my name is Keri and I'm here to do your hair."
"My hair?" She asked, astonished. Shihab. How like him to organise this? She stepped aside, letting in the attractive brunette carrying a large case. Changing into the dress with Keri's help, Andie sat down, while they discuss hairstyles. "How about doing something with flowers in my hair?" She asked.
"I'd see what I can organise. I'll be back soon," Keri disappeared.
Standing, Andie went to stand in front of a full-length mirror and ran hands down the front of the dress that hugged every line of her body, falling to the floor in a full skirt and train behind. It was exquisite, elegant, and so Shihab. She loved it, just like the ring. A part of his world.
She was living the dream. And soon, by the looks of things, be his wife. She turned away at the sound of the door opening and voices. Shihab's. She ran off to hide in the bathroom. Some traditions shouldn't be changed.
Like seeing the groom before the wedding. Then sighed, they would be travelling together, wherever he was taking her. So there was no point in hiding, then again, he could wait until she was finished.
A knock on the door had her peeking out around the corner, only to find the hairdresser. She exited the bathroom, and her eyes widened at the box of wildflowers of bright vivid colours, one of the most striking blue.
Taking her seat, Keri weaved her magic, leaving most of her hair free, except for the sides, braided, with the flowers weaved through, so it all rested down her back, over the lacy back. Once done, she headed out and found a man pacing, who swung around and stopped dead, unable to take his eyes off her.
"Shihab?" She asked, stunned. He looked so stunning dressed in full robes, darker bisht with gold trimming a white headdress and gold agal. He looked larger than life. As in a dream, he crossed over, took her hands and brought them up to his lips.
"My bride," he breathed. "You do take my breath away."
Lost in his gaze, she saw that to be true. No man had ever looked at her as he did, as if she was the most beautiful woman alive in the world. He made her feel it. Her fingers curled around his. "As you do mine, Shihab." He stepped closer.
"Are you ready for this, to become my wife?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Just you and me, no fancy wedding. No reception, and can't even give you time away. I am so sorry my love, perhaps we should wait," he shook his head.
"No, I don't want any of that. I want you, only you, the rest doesn't matter. When everything is finished then we can go away, anywhere you want."
A smile curled his lips, and his eyes twinkled. "You're so desperate to marry me?" He dared to tease her.
"Yes, I am, you see, I can't live without you." He swooped in and kissed her. "No, baby," she pulled away. "My makeup."
His arm went around her waist and hauled her against him, swirling her around. "Hold it!" A voice stopped them in mid swirl and Sebastian took a photo. "Memories," he smiled at them and walked away.
"I will deal with him later," Shihab growled as he whisked her away.
"I hope so, I want that and enlarged," she pointed out.
"We can have professional photos done at a later date."
She shook her head, smiling up at him as they headed downstairs. "I like the one taken unawares."
"We shall see how it turns out first." Taking her hand in his, they headed out of the apartment building and headed towards a waiting limousine, where a man hopped out of the front seat, opening the back door, dressed in robes.
Gathering up her dress, Andie lowered in, and slid along the back of the leather back seat of luxury, joined by Shihab as the door closed. He took hold of her hand; she leaned against him as they emerged into traffic.
They approached a gated building, waved through, and drove up to a very impressive multi-level building. They pulled up in front. A robed man rushed down to open the door, where Shihab slid out, and held out his hand to help Andie out to stand at his side.
"Where are we?" She asked in hushed tones.
"The Embassy."
"That's why you didn't tell me, not to freak me out, and explain this," she commented on the long flowing lace-covered dress with heavily embroidered lace sleeves of ivory. And why he was fully robed, with bisht and headdress, not forgetting the gold agal of royalty, looking very regal.
They headed up the stairs, doors were open, people bowing and they were rushed through the building, escorted to another level into a room, where formal officials were waiting.
Shihab went to the head of the table as the men stood, bowing their heads, and a clenched hand on their heart. He guided Andie towards a chair at his side, opposite the men, all sitting down after her. They passed over documents for him to read over.
"Everything that is spoken in this room would be in English," Shihab ordered as one spoke to him in Arabic as he read over, flicking from one page to another.
Andie peered over his arm to see only scribble as far as she could see. Arabic. They remained silent. She squeezed his arm and leaned in as he glanced across.
"Let them speak as they want," she suggested.
They had been over this, seen lawyers, getting everything into place, both agreed upon with some twisting on Shihab's behalf to get her to agree to the terms of the contract.
He allowed the man to speak their minds to him in Arabic.
The other man joined in, both rapid and animated, interesting to watch.
Although not good by Shihab's hardening features, and deadly eyes. Her fingers curled tighter on his arm. Don't lose it, she begged with her mind, caressing his arm, feeling the tension leaving his body.
He remained silent and read on until the last page, and flipped over.
"Unacceptable," he snarled in English. "However, I was prepared for that." He reached for his folder, which he had brought with him and pulled out his document, tossing it at the men to read over. "These are my terms, and there will be no discussion. You will sign off on this and it will be done."
Andie had read over the documents, the English version the other day that went over her head.
Basically what belongs to the royal palace is the palace's. She had no claims on anything if anything happens to Shihab. She would keep her royal title. Whatever is his, belonged to her, all his wealth, property, everything that he owned in his own right, which was worth billions was hers and whatever children that were brought into this world.
Vice versa she made sure of it. All book rights, all revenue, would belong to him if anything happened to her.
The men read over it, both speaking back and forth. "It is iron clad, cannot be broken. I have made sure of it. Did you bring the other documents?" Both men looked at him to be glared down.
"But sire, surely, what about a divorce."
"There will be no divorce, ever."
"Yet is it not specified."
"Correct."
Back to discussions between themselves. Shihab didn't flinch. Andie wanted to sink under the table, yet remain, where she was, holding onto Shihab's arm. The tension seeped out of his body. They had talked this over. She wasn't allowed to get involved. He would see to this.
She was quite happy to let him do so.
Once these were witnessed, and signed, then they would sign the marriage papers and it would be done. All official. The rest was ceremonial that they were bypassing. Getting married in the embassy would remain at the embassy until they were ready to announce the marriage through the palace that suited them both.
"Sire, his royal highness would prefer our drawn-up contact."
"The palace is protected, so there is no issue. You have no issues. My private fortune is mine to do with what I like."
"Surely a woman could not look after your interests sire?"
"I have every confidence in my wife."
Good for him, not that she believed that. What did she know about running a billion-dollar business?
"Yet you look after the palace business."
"That would be taken over by the palace, not my wife. Please read the document properly. It's all my non-palace business that would be handed over to her and my wealth."
"And what would stop you from shifting palace money into your accounts."
"I beg your pardon!" Andie head snapped around towards the men, glaring at them. "Are you calling His Highness a thief?!"
"Andrea, my sweet," Shihab warned softly.
"No! I won't stand for it. The most honest man and they dare to tarnish your name! The palace is completely protected which should be their only concern. And you dare to challenge His Highness!" She sat there seething, her whole body trembling.
How dare they insult Shihab? Of all people.
"Andrea." Pursing her lips, she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms, glowering at the men. "As you can see my wife is very protective of me, and the palace. And as you know everything is signed off by the King, so that argument has no merit." They broke out in Arabic. Shaking his head Shihab leaned in towards Andie. "We are going to step out. You are very intimidating."
"Well, they had no right to say that," she said, miffed, twitching her nose in disgust.
"Just don't do too much to them," he whispered.
"They are going to die for treason," she hissed.
Chuckling, he kissed her cheek and then stood. Instead, they turned the paper and said it was fine. They needed to sign them first and would be witnesses. "So I should think so," she grumbled, reaching for the pen, and signed the papers, one after another, already knowing where she had to sign, followed by Shihab, witnessed by the officials.
They slipped over the papers that were signed after Shihab read them, making sure they were the right ones. Again, all signed. Gathering up the papers the officials left. Andie released a long breath.
"Now to sign these wedding papers."
"You just did," Shihab smiled.
"I did?" She asked, shocked, eyes widening. "You mean we are married?"
"That we are," he stood, offering his hand that she took and stood, stepping towards him, placing her hands on his chest.
"We are married? Husband and wife for now and forever," she whispered, eyes shimmering.
He gathered her face in her hands, guiding her up to him, brushing her lips with his own. "Yes, and you scared the pants off them. I'm taking you with me from now on."
"For what?" She asked softly melting against him.
"Board meetings."
"Sorry," she looked up at him dazed. "Why?"
"Your negotiation skills." He smiled down at her. She eyed him closely. "Die for treason," he hinted.
"Oh, you know I...."
"Yes, but they didn't know that Princess Andrea."
"Oh," she clutched at his shoulders from behind and guided him down for a long, leisurely kiss as she moved against him. "So I can share your bed legally now?" She teased.
"Since we didn't do anything, it wasn't illegal, was it? We broke no laws."
"Can we leave now?"
"Not quite yet. I'm expecting a diplomat pouch, and should be here at any moment." Just as he spoke there was a knock at the door. "Enter," he answered, stepping around to her side, his arm firmly around her waist. An assistant entered carrying a pouch, placed it on the table before them, bowed then left.
"I'm not sure I'm going to get used to all this bowing, your highness," she teased.
"Andrea," he warned. "Never from you."
"But I like it," she leaned against his side.
"You would," he growled, guiding her over to the table, where he opened the pouch and removed two black velvet ring boxes. He opened one and removed an intricate ring with scroll writing with gold edging on both sides. He took her hand, removed her engagement ring, slipped on the matching wedding ring and replaced the engagement ring.
"It is so beautiful," she said breathlessly, looking at the other box. She glanced across, and he nodded. Andie removed the box with trembling fingers, opened that took her breath away at the heavier, thicker, engraved ring that she removed and place on his finger, holding the ring just after his clean-cut nail.
She looked up, eyes meshing with his. "With this ring, I wed thee," she said softly. "In health, in sickness, through good times and bad. Through thick and thin I would love and cherish you until the day I die," she pushed the ring on full, then bought up his hand and kissed his ring.
Swallowing hard, he gathered her against him, placing his lips on top of her hair. "As I do you. You are the air I breathe. The joy in my heart. Before your books, it was all about the palace, work and producing, even that was never serious as it is now. You woke me up to what it could be. Having that special person in your life and that is you, Andrea May Barnett. You opened my heart to the possibilities, and now I'm living it with you. I will love and cherish you until the day I die," he vowed.
His every word melted her heart and soul, closing her eyes as tears fell. His words were written across her heart, holding him tightly, as he held her. They just held each other for the longest time. There was no fanfare or reception they left the embassy as quickly as they arrive in a limousine.
Arriving at their penthouse, Shihab swept her up into his arms. "Shihab what are you doing?" She squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.
"I thought this was traditional to carry the bride over the threshold."
"Yes, quite correct. So how are you going to open the door? You didn't think this through Shihab," she teased. He pressed the bell near the door. It was opened and he walked in and both were showered in confetti. "Well, I am not cleaning that up," she pointed out laughing, shaking her hair and freeing the confetti that Sebastian had tossed at them.
"Yes, well, he will be picking it up piece by piece," Shihab noted dryly walking them in further.
"You don't," she called as Sebastian walked away at Shihab's indicating head to leave.
Shihab lowered her feet to the ground, gathering her against him, and kissing her. "Then you will be."
"No, never!" She declared. "I might be your wife, your highness, but I am not your slave."
"Ha," he twirled her around in his arms, legs lifted off the ground. "Now close your eyes," Shihab ordered.
"Oh, I see how it is going to be, husband of mine. You want to wear the pants around here," she glanced down. "Okay, not so," she giggled, burying her face into his neck as he made threatening sounds in his throat. "How's this?"
"As long as the eyes are closed, and no peeking. I mean it, Andrea." Her arms tightened around his neck, placing kisses against his skin, flicking her tongue out tasting him. This time he made guttural sounds as he strode through the penthouse, held tightly in his arms, pressed against his chest. Safe in his arms. She raked fingers through his silky soft hair to grip in her fingers as his head dipped and kissed her cheek, lips warm and moist.
Teeth scrapped her lobe, sending rushes of excitement through her.
He lifted her off her feet and carried her into the dining room that had been prepared exactly as he had ordered. Sebastian was getting a pay rise. He turned her around, holding her arms behind him; pressed up against his body. His lips brushed her ear. "Open your eyes," he ordered huskily.
She did. They flew open, gasping at the onslaught of beauty before her. The dining table is set for two on the closest end towards them. Candles flicked from the middle of the table from candelabra of twisted silver, three candles in all, giving off a soft glow.
The curtains closed.
The candelabra is surrounded by a low table covering flower arrangements of Roses. Petals were scattered across the table. Moroccan tall lamps on stands with small candles inside, and around the room added more light, omitting off-patterned lighting.
The rest of the room is in dark shadows, setting the mood. There were gold-rimmed crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and white with gold-rimmed plates. This was much more romantic than any restaurant.
"Shihab," she cried, "this is so beautiful," she struggled to break free from his hold, turning around, and wrapping his arms around his neck, covering his beloved face in kisses, tears seeping free.
He crushed her against him with his arms.
"You haven't seen anything yet," he whispered hoarsely. It had turned out much more than he expected, yet it was exactly what he wanted. As she kissed him, he felt the tears on his lips. He kissed them away until their lips found each other and deepened the kiss with a passion that tilted his world off its axle. "Don't cry Andrea," he choked.
"I can't help it," she whispered against his softened sensual lips. She ran her hands down his robed chest. "You have a romantic soul Shihab," she breathed, closing her eyes as his lips skimmed over her cheek and down, tasting her.
Smiling that warmed her heart, he led her over to the table, where they settled in and Sebastian served all her favourite foods. They shared their food between kisses. Quite often Shihab leaned in and wiped her lips of sauces and placed them in his mouth.
Dessert was one dish that they shared, feeding each other.
The Italian dessert she had in Melbourne.
Once done, Shihab stood and held out his hand that was taken and glided out of the room through the penthouse, no one in sight. Entering the bedroom, she gasped again, at the sight of rose petals scattered across the bed, just like the table, red and white, curtains waving from the open balcony doors.
The only light was from more Moroccan lanterns on stands around the room. She turned to Shihab, nearly swooning at his feet at the depth of love in his eyes as they slowly caressed her. Over her flushed cheeks, and glowing eyes, dressed in the long ivory lace gown.
Reaching out for her hand, he guided her further into the room, removed the remote, hit a button and soft slow music filled the room. Her breath hitched and lips parted, heart racing pulses throbbing as he swept her up into his arms.
"I do believe this is our dance. One should always dance with her husband on their wedding night." Her knees went weak, collapsing against his form, just to stand up straight, eyes captured and held by his, losing herself in his depth.
Liquid silver, darkened as he swirled her around the floor, the divan at the end of the bed removed, so they had more room.
Experienced, he swirled her around, the dress twisted around his robed legs.
Dazed, she reached up and touched his face, cupping in her hand, just to make sure he was real. His head turned and kissed the palm of her hand. His warm lips branded her, sending a tingling sensation rippling down her arm, rolling through her body, coursing through her blood, like a raging consuming fire.
His scent of woodsy spice lingered, wrapping around her that was Shihab, only him. Stubble bristles grazed her fingers, also velvet and warm to her touch.
This was more than she ever dreamed of her wedding.
The special meal, and now this.
She was beginning to think he was the true romantic. She leaned closer into him and pressed up against his tall, lean form, yet so masculine, her hand pressed on his racing beating heart. His heart of gold. And he was all hers.
Then they were seated on the bed, his gaze lingering, he raised a trembling hand and touched her cheek. His thumb gently caressed her cheek. "Did I tell you how beautiful you were today?"
She smiled. "A few times," she noted. "My husband," she breathed.
"My wife," he lowered them down upon the bed, hovering over her, eating her up with his eyes. His dark head lowered and claimed hers in a long leisurely kiss. They had the whole night in front of them and the rest of their lives.
Together as one.