My Insatiable Sheikh - Marian Tee Page 0,7

show of ignoring him.

"You take offense rather easily—-"

Oh, fuck taking the high road.

"Of course I'd take offense, you fuck," I snarled. "Everything you say and do is offensive, and if you really are a sheikh—-"

"I am."

"Then you must be the Sheikh of Ass-rabia," I snapped, "because no one can compare to your asshole-ness."

"And yet..." His smirking gaze trailed down, and I was horrified at the way I felt my breasts instantly swelled against the tight bodice of my dress. "You are still attracted to me."

"Fuck you."

"Soon."

I opened my mouth to tell him he was probably the Sheikh of Randy Goats, too, when the waiters came by to take our plates away, and I quickly snapped my mouth shut. I could see he noticed this right away, and so I wasn't surprised when he pounced on this as soon as we were alone again.

"You surprise me, habibti. I would've assumed you're the type to enjoy..."

"Brawling in public?" I asked dryly.

"I was trying to look for a better term, but yes."

"Childhood trauma," I answered shortly. "So consider yourself lucky."

"I've considered myself lucky," he said gravely, "from the moment I watched the video of your interview."

I was so damn tempted to tell him that I hadn't been interviewed for anything, but while the truth might let me off the hook, it could also mean creating trouble for Dahlia, which would then anger Portia and have her start threatening Greg again...

"You appear troubled."

"And that really surprises you?" I couldn't help asking sarcastically, but this only had his gaze gleaming with amusement.

"You know you truly not want to get out of this arrangement, habibti," he purred.

"God, you are so fucking full of it—-"

"But it's the truth nevertheless," he dismissed lazily. "So there must be something else that's troubling you..."

Since I didn't want the sheikh sniffing too close to the truth, and he was not as stupid as I wished he was, I quickly came up with the first lie I could think of. "It's your...name."

His brows pleated. "So we are back to that again. It truly bothers you, not knowing my name?"

"Uh...fuck yeah?" The fact that he actually sounded surprised nearly made me laugh. Sheesh. What kind of women had this guy been dating that he really thought withholding his name would be in any way acceptable?

"You must not take it personally," he said finally. "It is simply a precaution required by the...organization I'm a part of."

Shit.

That could only mean one thing.

He really was a fucking crook, and yes, I am aware that some girls think it would be all kinds of sexy to date someone whose family was featured in Narcos. And that's fine. No judgment. We all have our own favorite ice cream flavors, and it just so happened that those girls liked theirs mixed with bits of blowfish, just to spice things up. Nothing more exciting than knowing there was a one percent chance your next spoonful could poison you, right?

Me, however...

I just wanted my ice cream nice and regular, and honestly, with all the Dahlia-related trauma that I had yet to recover from, even something as basic as butter pecan or cookies and cream even felt too adventurous.

I just wanted to go vanilla all the way, and this sheikh?

Everything about him screamed trouble and danger that if he were an ice cream flavor, he wouldn't even be on the fucking menu. Wouldn't even manage to get certified by the FDA, probably. He was that kind of bad news...and it was just my luck that I ended up on his radar.

"What about yours, Ms. Teller?"

The question threw me off, and I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I never actually asked for your first name from the lawyers—-"

"Asshole."

"I never thought I'd care enough to know."

"God, you really are such a fucking asshole."

But because he was an asshole, I might as well have been insulting him in Kiswashili, with the way none of them even managing to leave the tiniest scratch on his bullet-proof ego.

"Well, Ms. Teller?"

Knowing that this was yet another thing that was pointless to withhold, I said reluctantly, "Story."

And then I started counting.

One...two...three...

The sheikh threw his head back with a laugh.

99.9% of the time, that was the reaction I would get, every time people found out what my name was.

"Your parents named you Story...Teller?"

Feeling defensive on my dad's behalf, I almost slipped up about Dahlia having it worse before her name change but was saved from doing so when the waiters came back to serve us coffee.

Phew.

When we were alone again, I