The Sheik's Rebellious Mistress Page 0,1

to herself before taking a sip of hot coffee. The caffeine immediately went to her system, giving her an alertness she"d been lacking earlier. The stress of preparing for this meeting, and all it could do for her future, had kept her up last night worrying.

Looking straight ahead , she went through her speech one more time although she"d rehearsed it over and over again. She didn"t look to her right or left, knowing the sight of the bulky men seated at nearby tables would only make her furious and resentful. She needed all her wits about her in order to make this work and negative emotions would only fog her brain.

She had only five minutes with King Dharr Abbas. Five minutes to convince the man to get rid of the guards. They were destroying her life and driving her crazy in the meantime.

Pulling the newspaper forward, she idly skimmed through the front page articles. She was a half hour early for her appointment and she really should check the job openings. Unfortunately, her focus was not on the words describing possible jobs but on her upcoming interviewwith the man who"s orders had destroyed what little was left of her normal childhood. He"d stolen her father"s life and then, in an attempt to ease a guilty conscience, had placed guards on her around the clock. As if the guards could take the place of the man she"d lost! It was ridiculous and she had to make it stop before more of her life was turned upside down by the ridiculous guards.

Eight years ago, the men had showed up unexpectedly at a party she"d been att ending. It had been horribly embarrassing since she was playing spin the bottle and was thrilled when the bottle had stopped spinning on Danny Miller, the cutest boy in school. She was just about to lean over and kiss him when one of the men came down into the basement where they were playing the relatively innocent game.

The man standing at the bottom of the stairs didn"t do anything at all. He simply stood there, his arms crossed over his chest watching Electra. All the others in the room were completely intimidated, as she was but Electra was the only one willing to stand there and question the man.

“Excuse me, what can we do for you?” she asked, planting her hands on her slender, sixteen year old hips.

“I"m here at the request of your grandmother and Prince Abbas.” Electra"s jaw immediately dropped. “Are you serious?” At the time, the prince"s name only reminded her of the man her father had worked for and lost his life for, taking a bullet meant for the king. Resentment welled up inside her at the representative of the man who, in her teenage mind, had killed her father.

“Absolutely, miss,” the man said, his face impassive as he looked down at her.

“For what purpose?” she demanded, irritated immediately at her grandmother"s interference. King What"s-His-Name was only a face in a far away country. Her grandmother was here, close by and therefore, Electra determined that she was a much better target than a faceless ruler.

The guard at the bottom of the stairs looked at her impassively, not impressed with her teenage hostility. “I am here to protect you. From yourself if necessary,” he clarified, his eyes moving to the teens behind her.

Electra didn"t like the sound of that. “My grandmother requested a goon to stand watch over me? That"s ridiculous. I can take care of myself.” Her tone was purposefully insulting but the man didn"t even blink.

“I believe your grandmother thought differently,” was all he said, his dark eyes looking across to her with no emotion.

Her fists balled up under her arms and she considered punching the man, but his bulging muscles would probably protect him. “And do I have any say in this matter? I mean,” she harrumphed, looking back at her friends and Danny in particular to gain support, “no one here is going to do anything wrong,” she lied.

The man didn"t respond.

His silence only infuriated her more. Electra was known throughout school as someone who spoke her mind, was daring and challenged authority. This was obviously not going as it normally would. “Well, what"s your name?” she asked, mimicking his crossed arms, her anger increasing several notches with his uncommunicative demeanor and inability to be intimidated or even irritated by her attitude. Usually, she was quite adept at producing some sort of emotion in all the people she