Sheikh's Unlikely Desire by Sophia Lynn Page B

failed. He had bet on her fearing humiliation more than she loved Zayn, and he had bet wrong.
    In that moment, Scholl aged twenty years. His face sagged, and then when it tightened up again, it became a mask of rage. “You miserable fucking slut,” he snarled. The violence was palpable, and with a sound that was barely human, he lunged at her.
    Leah stepped back briskly, making him stumble, but his flailing hands caught her a stinging blow on her cheek. The shock of pain traveled through her head, making her see stars, and that was when he caught her.
    “You couldn't let it go, could you?” he snarled. “You couldn't fucking just let it go...”
    She could feel those terrible bony hands wrapping around her throat. Some part of her was stunned, because it was unimaginable that he would do something so terrible in broad daylight. Another part of her was grimly unsurprised.
    She clawed at his hands, lifting her heel to try to crush his foot, but that was so hard when the lights were dimming around her, when she felt as if everything was getting colder.
    There was a distant shout, and then she was plucked from Scholl's grip as if she were a doll. The moment he released his hold on her throat, she could see again, gasping for breath and shaking. She was on her feet and ready to fight again, but now there was a solid presence between her and Scholl. To her shock, she recognized Azim's hawk-like face.
    “Azim?”
    “You are as spirited in combat as any member of the al-Fasi family,” he said with a certain dourness.
    “But...” She tried to get around him, but she could do nothing more than glimpse around him at where Scholl and Zayn were standing.
    At least, Zayn was standing, and Scholl was laid out on the pavement, a purple bruise darkening his face nearly immediately.
    “That was the least of what you are going to get,” Zayn said. There was nothing loud or demanding about his tone. Instead, it was frankly all the more terrifying because it was so quiet.
    “You fucking bastard...”
    “Oh, but I think from the story you wanted to tell, you know that I am nothing of the sort,” Zayn said smoothly. “But you will be silent now, and if you are very, very lucky, I will not do anything much worse than what you tried to do to my woman.”
    “Zayn...” Leah said, her voice little more than a croak. It felt as if there was a large lump in her throat, something that could not be moved.
    “I will do nothing he can fight,” Zayn said casually. “I will do nothing more than speak with him. Go with Azim now, and let him care for you. I will be along shortly.”
    Leah bit her lip, but there was something distant about Zayn now, something utterly relentless, and he had sighted his prey. As she watched, he hauled Scholl up to his feet. She didn't miss the fact that the producer was trembling.
    “It will be fine,” Azim said, shepherding her away. “I have known that one since he was a pup, and he understands things. He will not do anything that will harm himself or you.”
    “And Scholl?” she asked.
    Azim smiled. “He will get what he deserves. Almira is famous for its justice.”
    Leah knew Zayn, and she trusted him. She knew he would take care of things, and so she allowed herself to be put into the backseat of the limo, where Azim offered her cool refreshing ginger ale and a cold cloth for her throat.
    “That may bruise a little,” he noted. “But there looks like no harm done.”
    Leah nodded, grateful for the drink and the cloth. Despite the adrenaline pumping through her system like mad, she felt tired. It wasn't the sleepiness of a concussion, but instead simply the fact that her day had been one roller coaster after another. She drifted in a pleasant haze of not-awake and not-asleep for a short time until the door opened and the seat dipped next to her.
    “Are you all right? Did that man harm you?”
    Leah made herself sit up and look at Zayn. The sheik did not have a single hair out of place, but a