My Controlling Sheikh Page 9

  No one spoke as the plates were served, but Lady Dezza wasn’t fooled. While the king and queen appeared oblivious to the tension emanating between Khal and Ella, she had seen the way her younger half-brother had looked at the nobody.

  Khal wanted to fuck the piece of trash next to him.

  She would bet her share of the kingdom on it, but because she was the type who liked to be sure, she decided to put it to test.

  “So, Lady Ella...” Dezza waited until the girl's eyes met hers. “Are you going to the ball?”

  The sheikh slowly leaned back against his seat at his half-sister’s words. And so it began, Khal thought. He had once hoped it would not come down to this, that he would be able to spare his woman from all the pain, but it wasn’t to be.

  The sheikh pretended not to notice the way Ella’s gaze slid towards him.

  He could almost hear her begging, but the sheikh remained steadfast.

  Finally, he saw her square her shoulders, as if willing herself to be strong. He watched Ella lift her chin up as she said, “Yes, I’m going.”

  The answer had the new queen beaming. “Oh, thank God you’ve changed your mind. It’s very important we present a united front on this occasion.”

  “I think so, too,” the king said heartily. “It’s unfortunate that the media made so much out of a harmful exchange of letters but do not let yourself be troubled by it.” He sent his stepdaughter a kind look. “You have not been raised according to our ways. We know there is no malice behind the exchange. We will weather this storm, and the ball will be our first step. We shall put an end to all the rumors.” He shared a look of determination with his wife. “Not just those involving Ella and the Sheikh of Layla, but also those nonsensical ones that imply there is something going on between my children.”

  The words presented Dezza another opportunity to create trouble, and she seized it eagerly, a triumphant smile on her face as she pointed out, “But the ball is for my dear brother to hunt for a bride. If she’s going, doesn’t it mean people will think she desires to marry Khalas well?” Dezza slung a challenging look at the girl. “Do you, Lady Ella?”

  The words seemed to catch Ella off guard, and when she appeared at a loss for words, Khal interjected smoothly, “You must be joking, dear sister.”

  Dezza’s teeth gnashed at the taunting note in the sheikh's words, but there was nothing she could do about it. She had always known she was no match for the sheikh, and that to go against him in a straightforward fashion would be suicidal.

  Letting out a shrill laugh, she backtracked, saying, “I apologize if I’ve caused any offense. I am only repeating what everyone says. It seems the whole world misunderstands our sweet little sister—-”

  The sheikh only shrugged. “They misunderstand for they do not know the truth.”

  “The truth?” Dezza echoed skeptically.

  The sheikh bared his teeth in a dangerous smile. “Have you not heard? Lady Ella is planning to accept Sheikh Mik'hail's marriage proposal.” Khal managed to keep his voice level despite the way his heart clenched at the mere thought of Ella marrying another man. The sheikh slanted a glance towards his stepsister. “Correct, ukhayyah?”

  A stricken look crossed Ella’s face, and Khal's chest tightened with pain at how vulnerable and frail she looked right now.

  His fists clenched under the table, his every instinct urging him to protect her...but he couldn’t. His hands were tied, fate decreeing that Ella face her battles alone.

  As they continued to stare at each other, the tension between them became evident. When she still didn’t answer, the sheikh's jaw clenched, knowing that he was about to hurt her again.

  “Do not keep us in suspense,” the sheikh said lightly, “lest you want everyone to think you are foolish enough to believe I will marry you.”

  His words had her sucking her breath in, as if his words were a punch to her guts. After a moment, she said tightly, “No, Your Highness. I would never be so foolish as to want to marry someone like you."

  The subtle dig had the queen gasping while the king cast a frowning glance at both Khal and Ella.

  Ella burst to her feet, as if only realizing how much she had given herself away. “Excuse me,” she choked before running out of the dining hall.

  Her departure left an awkward, edgy silence in her wake, which was only broken when Dezza asked ever so innocently, “Are you not going after her, Your Highness?”

  The sheikh shrugged. “Should I?”

  Her half-brother’s tone was entirely casual, but the sudden pallor on his face was unmistakable, and triumph filled Dezza. While she wasn’t completely sure if it was all love or lust on the sheikh's side, the truth was immaterial.

  Ella loved the sheikh, and that was all she needed to know. Now, the only thing left to do was for the world to see how this American nobody was such a good whore she had two royal sheikhs hankering after her.

  Once that happened, Ella would be exiled, the king's heir dishonored, and Dezza's son would become next in line to inherit the throne.

  The Gown

  “Thank you so much,” I told the courier as he handed my package. I waited until he was gone and left alone with my lady’s maid before I hurriedly unwrapped it.

  “You’re opening it here, milady?” Jane asked in surprise.

  “Yes.” I understood her concern. We were at the palace’s servants’ entrance, and it was definitely not a place I should be seen at. “Please keep this a secret. I don’t want anyone to know about it before I see it for myself.” I finally managed to tear off the last piece of wrapping paper from the box.

  Jane gasped when I opened the box and revealed its content.

  “Oh, milady, that’s so beautiful!”

  I didn’t let up my breath, asking nervously, “You mean it?” As part of the royal family, I was required to buy only locally designed gowns. Unfortunately, the rumors had made all fashion designers in the kingdom unwilling to work for me.

  This dress was my only chance, created by the dressmaker from our old hometown. I was only allowed to wear any old dress from my closet, and our hometown’s dressmaker was the only person I trusted not to reveal the truth about my gown.

  The maid touched the gown with seeming reverence. “I’m not lying, milady. I’ve worked in dozens of royal balls and this one is more beautiful than most gowns they wear.” She snorted, adding primly, “Or shall I say what little they’re wearing, since most of their gowns are too provocative.”

  I laughed at Jane’s affronted tone, knowing it was more the maid’s upbringing talking now than her actual taste in fashion.

  Holding the gown up, I studied it one more time, trying my best to be objective as I imagined myself wearing it. The gown was feminine and modest, with a round neckline, long sleeves made of silver lace, and a full skirt made of ice pink silk. The fabric should make my complexion look rosier while the silver lace matched the shade of my eyes.

  All I need now were shoes, I thought, and I’d be ready—-

  “Oh, how becoming that dress is,” someone exclaimed from behind.

  Whirling around, I was shocked at finding myself facing Lady Dezza. What was she doing here?

  My stepsister walked up to me, her smile full of admiration as she gushed, “Is that what you’re wearing to the ball?”

  Unsure whether to take her friendliness at face value or not, I nodded cautiously.

  “Do I know its designer?” Lady Dezza inquired as she circled around me.

  “No, I—-”

  As I spoke, Lady Dezza tripped, her foot catching at the hem of my dress.

  “Aaaah!” My stepsister cried out as she started to fall.

  I paled, immediately reaching out to help her, but Lady Dezza seemed to dodge my hold. She took a step back and managed to right herself in time, but not before the heel of her shoe dug into the fabric and tore out a large piece of the skirt.

  Lady Dezza straightened.

  The maid gasped, and when I followed
her gaze, I could only stare in silent dismay when I saw what was left of my dress.

  “Oh my God,” my stepsister gasped. “I’m so sorry.” But even to my ears, she sounded more gleeful than repentant. “What are you going to do now?” She sounded tearful, but the malice in her eyes belied this. "Would you be able to find another dress in time, do you think?"

  I shook my head dully. I had more dresses in my closet now, true, but none of them were suitable for a ball.

  “Oh, dear. That’s too bad. I’d have lent you something but we are not the same sizes. I’m afraid you’re too short, too fat.” Lady Dezza released a sigh. “I guess that only means one thing.”

  When she fell silent, I slowly lifted my head to look at her.

  “You’re not going to the ball.”

  IT WAS MIDNIGHT WHEN Ella, alone in her bedroom, heard something crick. Bent over her sewing, she looked up, her neck protesting at the sudden movement. Her eyes widened in alarm when she saw the wall next to her bed start to swing open.

  What the—-

  About to scream, she instead found herself falling silent in shock when the wall fully swung open to reveal the sheikh standing behind it. He was as beautiful as always, but his hair was badly mussed, and he looked like he had come straight to her room upon arriving.

  “Ella.” The mere act of saying her name brought relief to the sheikh, who was still breathing hard as he gazed intensely at her. She had her honey blond hair unbound, her face scrubbed clean of makeup, and her curves hidden under a worn-looking cotton gown.

  It should've made her look plain, but in truth he couldn't remember seeing her more beautiful...and tired.

  Damn Dezza and her greed.

  The sheikh had more eyes than the king did in the palace, and he had been close to strangling his half-sister when he saw the CCTV footage of how Dezza had deliberately destroyed Ella’s dress for the ball.

  The moment he heard about what happened, the sheikh had not hesitated, practically running all the way to Ella's room. All he could think of was giving her comfort, thinking she would be in tears, but while she did appear exhausted, she also had a now-familiar look of fierce determination on her face, needle in hand and her ball gown on her lap.

  He should've known better than to think his Ella would give up just like that.

  Shame burned in Ella’s cheeks when she realized what the sheikh was staring at. “What are you doing here?” Her tone was furious, but it was only to hide the humiliation churning her insides.

  Although the sheikh meant to appease her anger with a few well-chosen words, all such thoughts were forgotten when he saw the plasters wrapped around her fingers.

  “What is the meaning of this?” When he saw Ella flinch, he knew that she had mistaken his fury for condescension or even pity. He knew he should soften his tone, but he was unable to, his anger knowing no bounds at the realization of the lengths she had gone to repair her dress.

  Ella furiously blinked back tears at the sheikh's tone. “It’s none of your business!”

  “It is my business when you’re clearly acting like an idiot,” he snapped, and his anger was unabated even when she suddenly burst into tears. "You are not to repair that dress—-"

  "I'll do whatever I damn want," Ella managed to snarl despite her tears.

  “Will you look at your fucking hands?”

  “I don’t care!” Snapping her gaze away from the sheikh, she nearly jabbed herself as she forcefully pushed the needle into the fabric. “I’m going to the ball, and you’re not going to stop—-”

  “I said, stop it!” This time, the sheikh's words came out in a savage hiss.

  It had Ella jerking, and her hold on the needle slipped, its sharp tip pricking her finger.

  A cry escaped Ella, and she paled when she saw a drop of blood falling to her dress. Over her head, she heard the sheikh curse and knew he had seen the same thing.

  “I’m sorry.” Self-loathing made the sheikh's voice harsh.

  In the corner of her eye, she saw the sheikh step towards her and she shook her head. “Don’t.” Her voice shook with emotion. “I don’t want you near me.”

  The sheikh whitened. She had never talked to him like this before, and he found himself suddenly assailed by a mixture of doubt and terror. What if he had pushed her too far? What if she had truly given up on him? Would he be able to let her go? Could he be selfless enough to step aside and let a better man than him take his woman away?

  “Ella.”

  The sheikh's voice was as abrupt as ever, but there was something in it – a strange note that made her body tremble and apprehension skitter down her spine.

  But before she could try to understand where her fears were coming from, the sheikh was speaking again, and this time what he had to say had Ella catching her breath.

  “Be honest with me, ukhayyah. Do you truly mean to marry Mik'hail? Do you believe you will be happier with him? You only have to say ‘yes’ and I shall...” The sheikh drew a breath sharply. “I will never bother you again.”

  Oh.

  She had imagined the sheikh saying so many things, mostly arrogant and taunting words, but she had never imagined he would say that.

  Her head lowered.

  The right answer should be ‘yes’. Khal was too cruel, and he had hurt her too many times. But...it was not the answer inside her heart. She only had to close her eyes and she could so easily remember the many times the sheikh had been tender with her, his possessiveness making her feel cherished and loved rather than imprisoned and abused.

  As the silence between the sheikh and Ella grew, Khal slowly found himself losing hope. Despair and emptiness gnawed at him, and he told himself stoically that if Ella did end up choosing the other man, he would not stand in her way.

  He saw her shoulders start shaking, and it was as if he already had his answer. She probably just couldn’t say it because she was too nice, he thought harshly.

  Slowly, the sheikh started to turn away.

  Behind him, he heard her say, “Yes.”

  The sheikh closed his eyes in defeat.

  Tears running down her cheeks, Ella said tremulously, “I know that’s what I should answer. You’re the king's heir, and you’re everything I shouldn’t yearn for.” She looked up, gray eyes meeting blue. “I should say yes, if only because you’ve hurt me so many times, but...” Her voice broke. “My heart says no.”

  For a moment, the sheikh was frozen with disbelief.

  But when he heard Ella swallow back another sob, the sound mobilized him, and with a groan, the sheikh sank on one knee in front of her. “I don’t deserve you, ukhayyah.”

  Releasing a teary laugh, she said, “I know.” Her defenses completely crumbled at the emotions swirling in the sheikh's blue eyes, and fresh tears struck her eyes as she felt his hands cup her face.

  “Let me comfort you. Please.”

  It was almost as if the sheikh was begging, and that someone as proud as him could do so...

  She closed her eyes.

  There was no other thing to say, but...

  “Yes.”

  There was no time to even breathe after that. The sheikh rose up, and in one swift motion had covered her mouth with a kiss even as his body pressed down against hers.

  Her arms curled around the sheikh's neck even as she fell back to the bed. Her tears added a salty taste to their kiss, prompting the sheikh to lift his head and lick her tears away. “No more tears, milady.”

  But the sheikh's whisper was so tender it only made her cry even more.

  Shaking his head, the sheikh brushed the tears away and pressed one kiss on each eyelid, making her close her eyes.

  The sheikh whispered to her ear, “This shall be the last night we’ll be parted.” His breath in her ear made her shiver, but it was his next words that made her body buckle, the sheikh's voice a low husky murmur as he commanded, “Now, I would like to keep my promise. Lie on your stomach and let me comfort you.”

  The sheikh clas
ped her by the waist and undressed her swiftly before discarding his own clothes, the rustling sound making her heady with sensual excitement.

  A moment later, and the sheikh had returned to her, the heat of his naked body making her tremble. She held her breath as he lifted her hair off her neck, and the air swooshed out of her when she felt him kiss her nape.

  Another moment and he was kissing his way down her body, making her spine tingle at the wet, warm touch of his tongue. A whimper escaped her as she felt his lips trace the curve of her bottom.

  Behind Ella, the sheikh smiled at her reaction, and he rewarded her by squeezing the plump cheeks of her pert butt. She buckled again, and his smile widened at her responsiveness.

  “Exquisite,” he whispered as his hands continued down, caressing her shapely legs. “Exquisitely soft, exquisitely curvaceous...my little Ella is exquisite, and I want to fuck her.”

  She started to moan, but he had already anticipated this, and his hand readily covered her mouth, silencing her. “Don’t make a sound, ukhayyah.” He reached for a pillow and handed it to her. “Bite it, scream into it – I don’t care what you do, just be quiet.” His voice was thick with desire. “After the ball, you can scream all you want but not now.”

  Her mind whirled at his words, but again there was no time to think much about it, not with the sheikh kissing his way down her legs. It was as if he was worshipping her, and the thought was enough to make her shiver anew.

  He was holding her ankles now and kissing the soles of her feet.

  She grabbed the pillow and bit into it.

  “I think it’s time to turn you around, ukhayyah.” Again, he clasped her by the waist and turned her to her back. She held her breath again, expecting another sensual attack, but instead the sheikh reached for her hands.

  He kissed her fingers one by one, and the tenderness made her eyes sting. It almost felt as if he was apologizing for the pain she had endured, and the tears threatened to fall. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered.