Sheikh's Ex-Girlfriend (Khayyam Sheikh Series #1) by Sophia Lynn Page B
Authors: Sophia Lynn
Tags: Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction
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interesting examples of Arana artwork, I'm expected to make an appearance. After that, why don't we go and find some fun? You could use some, and at the very least, it might convince you to stop harassing your staff to the point of furious walkouts.”
Nasim wanted nothing less than to wander through an art gallery full of pretentious critics while trying to look interested. However, he had not been out in quite some time, and there was something appealing about the idea of going out and forgetting his cares afterward. Even as he agreed, however, he felt a strange brushing of dark wings over his heart.
Something important was going to happen this evening, he knew it, but whether it would be good or bad, he had no idea.
***
She had been out of western dress for so long that Ella felt remarkably exposed. Instead of the tunics and trousers she had been wearing, she had bought a black sequined cocktail dress for the museum exhibit. It was lovely, clinging to her form and hinting at curves that she didn't really have, but it was so short, especially after she put on her heels.
The evening was just getting started, and she already felt a little tired. Her plans to flee Dalal were going nowhere fast; first Joe needed her there for one more event, and then one more. Regarding the one she was attending that night, he had been implacable.
“There are a lot of contacts to make and networking to be done, kiddo. I didn't put you out there to read manuscripts; you're supposed to be my eyes on the ground.”
“All right,” she had replied. “But after this, we are having a serious sit-down and we are going to talk about where I am going to be next.”
He had agreed, albeit reluctantly, and so she had appeared at the museum opening. It was a pleasant affair, if slightly dull, and Joe had been right on the money. There were plenty of people who might like to invest in foreign publishing, and more than one up-and-coming writer present, trying to get inspiration for their work.
Ella was just congratulating herself on a job well done when she glimpsed a familiar face across the hall. It was hard to mistake Marid's laugh and excited gesturing, but it wasn't Marid that she was worried about. Her heart beating a little faster, she scanned the crowd, and sure enough, dressed in an impeccable tuxedo and looking as lordly as a lion, was Nasim.
She had thought that not seeing him for a few weeks would blunt her pain, but the moment she laid eyes on him, she felt a fresh burst of panic and grief.
I can't do this, she thought. I'll just tell Joe that I got sick and that I had to leave.
To her alarm, she saw Nasim start to walk in her direction. She didn't think that he had seen her yet, but if he continued and she stayed put, that would be inevitable. A part of her yearned to speak with him again, even if it was brief, but the greater part of her, the part that understood pain and the darkness it could bring, urged her to bolt.
In the end, it was no choice at all, and she walked quickly into the deepest part of the crowd. She realized with irritation that she was taking herself further from the exit, and so she darted into the restroom to compose herself.
The bathroom had a rather plush seating area inside the door, and Ella sat on the couch, trying to gather her wits about her. She was just planning her escape when an older woman came and sat in one of the wing chairs across from her.
The woman was perhaps in her seventies, dressed to kill in a chocolate and gold tunic and deep gold trousers, and there was a kind of dignity to her that made Ella feel rather shabby. However, at the moment, the woman didn't look as if she was condescending to anyone. Instead, she looked like she was having difficulties breathing.
Ella stood up in alarm, watching for a frozen moment as the woman turned pale. She patted at her chest, her motions awkward and erratic, and her whole body was shivering.
A pair of women opened the door, and froze at the
Nasim wanted nothing less than to wander through an art gallery full of pretentious critics while trying to look interested. However, he had not been out in quite some time, and there was something appealing about the idea of going out and forgetting his cares afterward. Even as he agreed, however, he felt a strange brushing of dark wings over his heart.
Something important was going to happen this evening, he knew it, but whether it would be good or bad, he had no idea.
***
She had been out of western dress for so long that Ella felt remarkably exposed. Instead of the tunics and trousers she had been wearing, she had bought a black sequined cocktail dress for the museum exhibit. It was lovely, clinging to her form and hinting at curves that she didn't really have, but it was so short, especially after she put on her heels.
The evening was just getting started, and she already felt a little tired. Her plans to flee Dalal were going nowhere fast; first Joe needed her there for one more event, and then one more. Regarding the one she was attending that night, he had been implacable.
“There are a lot of contacts to make and networking to be done, kiddo. I didn't put you out there to read manuscripts; you're supposed to be my eyes on the ground.”
“All right,” she had replied. “But after this, we are having a serious sit-down and we are going to talk about where I am going to be next.”
He had agreed, albeit reluctantly, and so she had appeared at the museum opening. It was a pleasant affair, if slightly dull, and Joe had been right on the money. There were plenty of people who might like to invest in foreign publishing, and more than one up-and-coming writer present, trying to get inspiration for their work.
Ella was just congratulating herself on a job well done when she glimpsed a familiar face across the hall. It was hard to mistake Marid's laugh and excited gesturing, but it wasn't Marid that she was worried about. Her heart beating a little faster, she scanned the crowd, and sure enough, dressed in an impeccable tuxedo and looking as lordly as a lion, was Nasim.
She had thought that not seeing him for a few weeks would blunt her pain, but the moment she laid eyes on him, she felt a fresh burst of panic and grief.
I can't do this, she thought. I'll just tell Joe that I got sick and that I had to leave.
To her alarm, she saw Nasim start to walk in her direction. She didn't think that he had seen her yet, but if he continued and she stayed put, that would be inevitable. A part of her yearned to speak with him again, even if it was brief, but the greater part of her, the part that understood pain and the darkness it could bring, urged her to bolt.
In the end, it was no choice at all, and she walked quickly into the deepest part of the crowd. She realized with irritation that she was taking herself further from the exit, and so she darted into the restroom to compose herself.
The bathroom had a rather plush seating area inside the door, and Ella sat on the couch, trying to gather her wits about her. She was just planning her escape when an older woman came and sat in one of the wing chairs across from her.
The woman was perhaps in her seventies, dressed to kill in a chocolate and gold tunic and deep gold trousers, and there was a kind of dignity to her that made Ella feel rather shabby. However, at the moment, the woman didn't look as if she was condescending to anyone. Instead, she looked like she was having difficulties breathing.
Ella stood up in alarm, watching for a frozen moment as the woman turned pale. She patted at her chest, her motions awkward and erratic, and her whole body was shivering.
A pair of women opened the door, and froze at the
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