The Sheikh's Captive Lover by Leslie North

Author:Leslie North [North, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Short Story, Contemporary, Fiction
ISBN: 9781516344604
Publisher: Leslie North
Published: 2015-11-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

The next morning, Bree woke up and stretched, feeling tender in places that normally didn’t bother her. Memories of the previous night flooded her mind and fresh heat prickled her cheeks as she thought of all the wicked things she’d done with Amare. He’d awakened her again shortly before dawn and they’d made love again, this time with her on top, riding him until they were both mindless with ecstasy.

She showered and was pulling on a fresh set of clothes left by the maid when her cell phone rang. Nose wrinkled, she picked it up off the nightstand and stared at the screen. The only person who normally called her knew she was out of the country. She didn’t recognize the number on her caller ID, but figured maybe it was one of the airlines calling to let her know they had an open seat on a flight home. “Hello?”

“You little brat!” Her step-monster Cindy’s voice screeched through the phone line. “Where are those paintings? I want them brought to Colorado immediately. I have a buyer. You can thank me later for making us both rich.”

“Go away. Don’t call me again.”

“After you deliver those painting we’ll never have to see each other again. Won’t that be nice?”

“I’m not delivering anything.” Bree forced the words past her fury-constricted throat. “You’ve made your last buck off my father. He’s dead. Let him rest in peace.”

“Bring me those paintings.”

“Never going to happen. My father gave them to me.”

“He expected you to sell them. He wanted us to have enough money to live on, and he trusted you would be able to find a wealthy buyer.”

“Wrong. My father knew you couldn’t be trusted and he gave those paintings to me so you wouldn’t defile his life’s work.”

“I’m tired of playing games with you, Bree. Now tell me where the paintings are and let’s finish this. Don’t make me get the authorities involved.”

“Authorities?” Bree snorted. “Seriously? Which part of ‘I’m not selling my father’s paintings’ did you not understand?” Her exhaustion returned ten-fold. The woman had shown up in Montana and almost got Bree fired from her job with her crazy accusations and rude behavior. Luckily, the bookstore owner had taken Bree’s side and even called the cops to have Cindy barred from entering her store in the future.

Unfortunately, her harassment hadn’t stopped. Threatening phone calls. Rocks through the window of her apartment. Graffiti painted on her car. Things had gotten so bad Bree had given her two weeks notice before coming to Al-Sarid, and was planning on moving to California for a clean start as soon as she got the paintings into storage.

A clean start… What would Amare do if she carried his precious painting down stairs and set fire to it on his front lawn? She’d be rid of it, once and for all, rid of at least one physical reminder of her father that had brought her nothing but grief.

“Bree?! Are you listening to me? I called your work, and they said you quit.

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