My Insatiable Sheikh - Marian Tee Page 0,5

six digits to burn, and she didn't even have to worry her pretty little head about repaying it. Nope, no worries at all, since I was the one who'd get my ass sued, if I kept trying to fool myself, thinking I'd get away with ignoring the requests of my "employer".

And the latest request that the SOB threatened to take me to court for?

My steps came to a halt as I gazed moodily at the newly-opened restopub across the street.

Y + K, its minimalist-style signage read. A Yelp review described the place as 'swanky casual' and its menu a delicious but rare fusion of Japanese and Greek. On any other day, I'd have been happy to give this a try. Tonight, however...

Wear a dress. Don't be late.

Those were the asshole's exact words, included in fine print in the law firm's last courier-delivered letter, and the memory of it completely soured what should've been a fabulous dining experience. Y+K might as well have been the doorway to Hell, considering who was waiting for me behind its doors.

The urge to turn around struck anew even as I forced myself to cross the street as soon as the pedestrian light turned green. No point running away, I reminded myself while climbing the stairs that led up to the second-floor dining area. The SOB was just going to give me more shit if I did, so I might as well be done with it.

A couple was still speaking with the maître d' when I reached the second floor, and since this part of the restopub was strictly by reservation, I didn't hesitate to give my name when it was my turn. I waited for the maître d' to check his reservation book like he had with the other couple but the man only nodded, saying with a smile, "Let me escort you to your table, Ms. Teller."

SOB was a VIP here, I guessed right away, and no doubt I wasn't the first girl he had brought to this place. The thought pissed me off for some reason, and the fact that it did pissed me off even more.

I looked around as we walked farther inside. Since the place was built like an arena, everyone in the second floor could enjoy the view of all the dancing going on below, and the first thing I saw was the DJ fist-pumping the air as he hyped the crowd from his booth.

"I'll take it from here, Phil."

The hatefully familiar drawl startled me out of my observations, and I heard the maître d' murmur in assent as I reluctantly turned to face my tormentor. I had been hoping that I could've remembered him wrong, and that the reality of him would be far less attractive.

But...nope.

If anything, my memories of him seriously paled in comparison, and the SOB in the flesh was even sexier and more devastatingly handsome than I allowed myself to remember.

Raven black hair that would make any woman wish she could run her fingers through its locks. Dark eyes that could seduce with a single sizzling glance. And that to-die-for body...

Stop lusting after the enemy, you idiot!

My jaw clenched, and I fought to keep my face expressionless as my gaze finally lifted to meet his. He was dressed in a gray wool suit tonight. It looked expensive, naturally. No tie, but he did have a fancy silk handkerchief peeking out of his breast pocket.

Behind him, I could see women glancing his way all the time, all of them clearly hoping they'd have the chance to catch his eye, and none of them obviously caring he wasn't alone. Then again, why would they?

This guy could have any woman in the room, and yet here he was with me, an ordinary-looking, potty-mouthed undergrad who had only come here to meet him under duress.

I could feel the women glaring at me as the SOB came close. "You look beautiful, habibti." He reached for me as he spoke, and I nearly jerked when his hand rested against my bare back. Hot, I thought in panic. His touch was so ridiculously hot against my skin, and it had me burning up in a flash.

"Thank you for wearing a dress," he murmured.

"You didn't exactly leave me a choice," I muttered under my breath, but the SOB only ignored this, and instead I felt a gentle pressure against my back as he ushered me towards our table.

While most of the other tables in the restaurant were facing inwards and towards the dance floor,