Seduced By The Bad Boy Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Bad Boy Romance (2 page)

“
N
atalie
, watch this!” Billy yelled as he jumped into the above ground pool.

I winced as a giant splash of water crested out. Billy was a little on the heavy side but at only 10-years old he was more interested in using his weight to make cannonball splashes than working off what was still hopefully baby fat.

“Very good, Billy,” I called back to him. His mother was working in the city and the sitter had called out sick so she had come asking me. I didn't have the heart to turn her away and Billy and I had always gotten along rather well. By himself, he could be a handful, but since school was out for the summer, he had some friends come over and I told them that as long as I was outside they could play in the pool.

I didn’t mind. If it made some children happy, it was worth it to me. Plus, it gave me a chance to catch up on my portfolio. I had just finished college and was about start my first year of graduate school for Art History, and that meant that on Day One I had to have my portfolio ready and up to snuff. I looked at the blank canvas in front of me and sighed. So far, that’s all I had. I was having trouble concentrating and finding focus to be able to get paint onto canvas to create anything. As much as it would make me chuckle, watching Billy and his friends jumping into above-ground pools was not enough to get my mental juices flowing.

Add to that the fact that I had gotten a call from mother two days ago telling me that none other than Sheikh Aziz al Salam Mussayef was going to be coming to visit, and possibly staying for a while. Why someone the media had dubbed “Sheikh Seduction” and “The Sheikh of Passion” was coming to a suburb of Los Angeles was beyond me. I had seen him maybe once four years ago.

I was coming over during Spring Break from college with some of my girlfriends after they had pestered me nonstop during the semester. Because my mother worked directly with the Sultan, we had access to the resort beaches and accommodations free of charge that wealthy tourists flocked to. We hit the beaches and it quickly became clear to me why my girlfriends had been so intent on coming to Qumar as opposed to any other island. There, standing fresh from a tour of duty deployment in Afghanistan stood the Sheikh on his yacht. Over six feet of pure tattooed muscle. The yacht was out on the water – but close enough that we could make him out. I had asked mother to keep our visit to herself – despite the fact that working for the Sultan was like joining an extended family. I was afraid of the cameras and kind of shy. My heart literally sped up whenever anything royal was involved.

All this flashed through my head as I saw the Sheikh in the yacht four years ago. I had seen two speedboats come up to the beach, and two men get out. They approached us and informed us that there was a party happening on the yacht and that all eligible women were invited, courtesy of the Sheikh. This is exactly what my friends had been waiting for and they jumped at the opportunity. Leaving me.

I had been hurt at first, but we were bound to be leaving the next day anyways, so I had trudged back up to the Palace. My mom found me reading a book in the library.

“What happened to your friends, dear?” She asked, coming over with cocoa and sitting next to me.

“Who do you think happened to them?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

My mom wasn't stupid. She knew who I was referring to. “Oh,” she said weakly. Then she tried to make excuses. “They’re young girls, Natalie, just looking to have some fun.”

I sighed, putting my book down. “I know,” I said. “I kind of got roped into coming anyways, so I don’t mind. At least I get to see you.”

“I miss you too, sweetie,” my mom said, hugging me. “You really should come over more often.”

If coming over more often meant watching my mother have to clean up another mess made by the spoiled Sheikh then I wasn’t in the mood. If it meant being embarrassed by association by the antics of an overgrown child, then I was happy I had only seen him once as a faint silhouette on a far off yacht.

Spring Break had passed and I had returned back to school but I couldn't help but keep up with the exploits of the hard-partying Sheikh throughout the time. His being challenged to a duel by the Prince of Monaco after being caught in bed with his wife. His giant parties during the Cannes Film Festival. His keynote speech at the Adult Film Convention in Las Vegas. Every time anyone found out I was a related to someone who worked for the Sultan of Qumar, I got ready for the inevitable questions.

“So, what’s it like living with him?”

“Is he really that well-endowed?”

“Did he really have sex with the President’s daughter in the Oval Office?”

It’s like people expected me to know who he was when I had never even seen the man. It got to a point where I told people my mother worked in public relations, but not where.

And now he was going to be coming to my home. The place where I had grown up. Mom hadn't been clear on the specifics but it was something that was going on with him and his father. Apparently Sultan Mussayef thought it was time for young Aziz to settle down. I couldn't agree more. It was well past time. But Aziz wasn’t the stable, settling down type, so guess who was supposed to be a good influence on him? That's right. Moi.

“Billy, don’t balance on the side of the pool!” I yelled out from the patio where I kept a lookout on the five kids as they ran around, splashed, and jumped into the pool. I remember as a kid jumping into the pool on hot days like today. Glad to see that some things had stayed the same. It was the first thing Mom had purchased for me in an effort to lift my spirits after Dad had died when I was 8 in a car accident. She had worried for a long time that I would let a freak accident that had taken Dad and allow it to alter my development. But I was 22 now and I think Mom was finally starting to stop worrying enough that she was content to use me as a calming influence on the Sultan’s son.

Why was Mom helping the Sultan?

I had always wondered this myself. Was she getting a bit too close to him? Was she falling for the charismatic and charming man? He was a far cry from his son, that was for sure. I wouldn’t have been surprised. Dad had been gone long enough that I was perfectly fine if Mom got out and saw some men. But she would always just smile and change the subject.

I sighed, and looked back to my blank canvas. It wasn’t going to paint itself. But I was pulling out my hair trying to find some sort of inspiration. I wondered if I hadn’t missed out on an opportunity, heading abroad this summer to go visit Mom. A tiny desert nation near the sea – Qumar was home to 5 million people and one of the most dynamic economies in the world, using the largest known reservoir of untapped oil to bring their citizens to a First World standard of living while also branching out and building great buildings and tourist destinations for alternative revenue streams.

“Hey Natalie!” Billy called out. I looked over to where the little portly guy was standing. He had climbed on top of a ladder and was getting ready to dive. “Watch this!”

I was just about to tell him to be careful and wondering whether to write off the afternoon as a loss and join them when I stopped.

Was it me or did I hear something?

A high-pitched whine and a scream? Whatever it was, it was faint, but getting louder.

Apparently, Billy heard it too. Everyone looked around, and then Billy’s eyes went wide. He pointed and jumped off the ladder, running towards me and falling – his rolls of fat jiggling as he scrambled to get up and got behind me. His friends had run in different directions as I saw something hurtling towards us from the sky.

Within seconds whatever it had gotten louder and it was heading right for us.

“Billy!” I yelled. “Run inside!”

If it was a meteor or some other object, there was no way going inside was going to help. But still, I was supposed to be watching out for the little ones.

Billy didn’t move, staring wide-eyed. “It’s a person!” He said, pointing.

And indeed it was. Roughly 100 yards up, I could make out a torso, legs and arms. Whoever it was now wasn't headed towards the covered patio, and I watched with morbid fascination as he or she got closer.

I didn't have long to wait. Almost like a speeding bullet, the skydiver glided from the side, coming in for a landing. But unfortunately for whoever had planned the logistics, they had forgotten to take into account the above ground pool. Without anything to stop his momentum, and it definitely was a he, I was sure – I even had a sinking feeling who it could be – he zoomed by, unable to stop. As his legs touched the ground, he desperately tried to use them as leverage to slow down.

Try as he might, though, it wasn’t enough.

Yup, that’s definitely the Sheikh,
I thought to myself as I saw that with twenty yards to go, the human bullet gave up trying to slow down and instead went with it, lifting his legs, and bringing his head down, making himself into a missile. He brought his hands to his sides, making his already svelte body into an aerodynamic weapon.

A weapon that hit straight into the above ground pool like a royal missile. There was a tremendous crunching noise and a torrent of water – several thousand gallons gushing out. I averted my eyes, but they quickly widened as I saw the destruction caused by the man. The pool was wrecked, and the water gushing out had slowed his fall, but it also emptied out from the pool in waves, soaking the grass to the point of flooding in all directions. Water came up to my feet and I heard the cries of dismay from Billy and the children behind me. They had stared with amazement at the spectacle before them. My eyes went to the lone figure who had caused so much carnage. He was just lying there, as if in possession of a broken body.

Good,
I thought, my eyes flashing quickly to little Billy, who still clutched my leg with his pudgy hands.
Hope he’s dead.

As if hearing my thoughts, the figure managed to slowly stand up. He turned around taking stock of his surroundings. Then he turned towards Me and took a halting step forward, bringing his hands to his helmet and taking it off.

I gasped as she saw the ruggedly handsome visage of the Sheikh as he smirked at me.

“Hello there,” he said with a slight off-English accent that belied prestigious boarding school privilege. “You must be Natalie. How you doing, love?”

W
ell
, I was alive.

My whole body hurt but thankfully the whisky was doing its job, which was to make me not care at all about the bruises I’d be sporting the next day. I rose from the water and looked around, appreciating what was to be my new home for at least a few days. I wondered how much time it would take for the local mob to lynch me in the public square for defiling someone’s wife.

A girl stood a few feet away from me, a plump boy attached to her leg as if he was an ornament. He had curly hair framing his plump face, which only made him look like one of those fat, baby angels you could see on a church painting. His small eyes were open wide and he looked at me as if I was the drunk bastard version of Santa Claus. His eyes widened even more when I took my hands to the helmet and pulled it off, taking a deep breath as water ran down my face.

I looked at the girl, unsure if she was actually Natali. I blinked, trying to impose the image of the thirteen-year-old girl of so long ago over that of the young woman standing right in front of me. If this wasn’t Natalie, then fuck it. I would be staying right here. If it was, then I was a fucking lucky man.

She was taller, and she had filled out quite nicely, but the lines in her face were still as beautiful as when she was young. There was no doubt about it after another scan - it was her, Natalie. And, hell, there was no other way to go about it: she had turned out pretty damn fine. I had been somewhat afraid that I would find an awkward and plump Natalie, her face destroyed by acne, but it seemed that the Gods above didn’t want to punish me that much.

“Hey. You must be Natalie. How you doin’, love?”

She simply stared at me, her mouth slightly ajar as if she didn’t know what to say. I guess I have that effect on people, especially when I rain down on them like a bomb. I ran my hand through my hair, looking over my shoulder at the improvised landing pad, an over the ground pool that was nothing more than a ruin now, water gushing out from all sides of it in a torrent. I stepped out of it, my flight suit completely wet and glued to my body - much like the oil company CEO’s daughter the previous night.

I took another look at my apparently speech-impaired host, squinting my eyes at her and having a hard time believing it was the same girl from so many years ago. She was fucking hot. Her slender figure had the perfect curves for me to lay my hands on, and her skin seemed ripe for me to taste with my lips. I could already feel my cock twitching inside my suit, aching to do its job.

Crap, why did she have to be related for someone who worked for the Sultan? Even a royal asshole like me had his limits and doing anything that could send her crying to her mother was out of the option. The people who worked for the Sultan were like his family. His protectiveness would run deep.

ut if the circumstances were different… Oh, there would be no mercy then. If we were back in Qumar and she wasn’t the family of someone close to father… I wouldn’t pass on a girl like her, no fucking way. I’d down two shots of the most expensive scotch I could find and bring my A-Game to the table. I would go James fucking Bond on her ass. But she was almost family by being the daughter of the Sultan’s press secretary, damn it - my forced exile was already starting to feel like a punishment. How unlucky had I to be to have the first hot girl I meet be related to someone who worked for my father?

I took a step towards her and, slowly raising my arm, snapped my fingers in front of her face, trying to get a reaction. She looked at me in astonishment, a flash of anger crossing over her eyes.

“Do you realize what you’ve just done?” she asked, looking furious enough to bite off my hand. I pulled it back, just in case.

“Yeah, it was awesome,” I said with a smirk. She didn’t find it that amusing, so I decided to placate her anger. “Sorry for the pool, though. I’ll get you a new one,” I shrugged, failing to understand why she was so upset about it.

“Forget the pool!” She almost spit at me, balling her hands into fists. “There are kids here, can’t you see it? Don’t you realize what could have happened?”

“Hey, they were already wet before I arrived,” I shrugged again, looking at the rotund kid quivering at her feet. As a matter of fact, I had seen the kids before I crashed. And it was precisely because of them that I had to swerve mid-air with my chute still deploying, so that I wouldn’t fall on their heads like the fucking grim reaper. The media would have a field day if I started my week in the States with a body count.

“Come, Billy,” she grabbed the young kid by the hand and lifted him off the ground. I was half-expecting for him to start squealing like a little piggy as he rose, his beady eyes examining me.

“Hey, buddy,” I smiled at him, doing my best impression of a nice sober guy even though the stench of whisky would rat me out straight away. Instead of doing whatever it was nice kids do, the little shit just leaned forwards and kicked me straight in the ankle. I motioned to grab him, but he hid immediately behind Natalie.

“Seems like you have a natural talent for kids,” she said, her eyes passing judgment on me. The damn kid had kicked me and I was the one to blame, right. I squinted my eyes at the little imp and he cowered behind Natalie’s legs.
Not so tough now, eh?

Natalie sighed, shaking her head at me as if I was a major disappointment. Not two minutes in my new home and I was already scoring some major points. Well, what else could I expect? I probably wouldn’t like it that much if someone dropped from the sky right on my swimming pool. Unless it was a scantily clad hot woman - then I probably wouldn’t mind.

I put my hand in the breast pocket of my flight suit and pulled out a nip bottle of scotch, sighing in relief as I realized it was still intact after my crash landing. I downed the whole thing in one gulp, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. This easily shocked commoner – unknown to the ways of royalty - looked at me as if I was a strange being from some dark cave, unable to function in society like a normal human being. Well, I guess she had a point.

“You’re unbelievable, I thought you’d have the decency to have some manners since you’re staying here” she said, sounding as if she actually expected me to be a polite member of the royal family. It was actually rather sweet – this young nubile woman still held some hope that I wasn’t the burning mess that the tabloids painted me as. Oh, she was in for a surprise.

“Part of the charm of being a ruler in waiting, love,” I grinned at her, zipping down the front of my suit and baring my chest. The damn thing was plastered to my skin, making it really uncomfortable to move. “Where can I change clothes?”

She shook her head once more before turning on her heels and walking across the yard to the house entrance. I followed her, my wet boots making a sloshing sound as I went. The kids giggled, talking between them in a hushed curious tone and pointing at the man that had fallen from the sky. At least they weren’t soul-sucking paparazzi.

My eyes darted to Natalie’s body and, even though I knew I should have at least tried, I made no effort to avoid staring at her ass. My cock twitched once more as I saw the sweet sway of her thighs, imagining how it would feel to pin her naked body against the wall. Shit, I needed to get laid, and I needed to do it fast. I was no longer sure if having a hot girl as a host was a good or a bad thing. Perhaps it would have been better if she was fat Natalie instead of hot Natalie - at least that way she wouldn’t drive me crazy.

I stepped inside the house and followed her upstairs, realizing how everything seemed so normal and, well, middle class. She could be living it up in Qumar and yet she had chosen to remain here. I bet she even cleaned the house and did the laundry herself.

She went down the hallway and opened a door unceremoniously; stepping aside, she motioned with her head for me to get in. “Your chambers, Your Highness,” she said in a mocking voice, her lips a tight line of contempt.

“Thanks, love,” I replied back. If she wanted to be annoying, I could handle that too.

“You do know that I’m not your servant, right?” she shot back at me, folding her arms in front of her chest. “I'm not going to wait on you like you have back home.”

“Don’t worry. I always wanted to have it simple, love. See how the common class lives.” I swear I thought for a split second that she would actually punch me straight in the face as I smirked at her I knew I wasn’t exactly being as polite as I should, specially taking into account that I was a guest in her house, but it was stronger than me. What’s best in life than to annoy uptight people? I switched gears, though, not wanting to make an enemy out of her in the first day. There would be plenty of time for her to hate my guts. “Do you have any clothes I could change into? I didn’t bring any. Unless you want me to walk around naked, I’m totally fine with that.”

She looked at me with steely eyes, one hand in her hip as she tapped her foot on the carpeted floor. Without saying a word, she turned her back to me and went down the hallway, leaving me soaking wet in the middle of a room that was smaller than most bathrooms in Qumar’ palace. My father probably intended for me to live for a while without all the luxuries of royalty - what he didn’t know was that I didn’t really care for that. Sure, it was great to be drinking out of a thousand-dollar bottle of champagne while driving a sports car worth a fortune, the tight lips of some European model tightly wrapped around my cock. But, to be honest, it didn’t mean a thing to me. The cars, the money, the mansions… I didn’t really give a fuck. I figured that if I could have a constant stream of whisky I’d be just as happy living in a tent and growing a beard.

There was already a puddle of water forming at my feet, so I sat on the edge of the bed and started taking off my boots.

Natalie appeared at the door with a towel, a pair of work boots and a bunch of folded clothes in her arms. She placed them on the bed, close to me.

“Those were my father’s,” she simply said, frowning. She left the room and closed the door so violently I thought it would fly out of its hinges. Shit, I would’ve brought something to change into if I knew the only men’s clothing she had was from her dead father.

I rummaged through my pockets, cursing at myself for not bringing more whisky with me. Sighing, I pushed the flight suit down my legs and, completely naked, grabbed the towel and started drying myself, the buzz from the alcohol giving way to sore muscles. I grunted and grabbed the clothes, wondering how the hell I would fit inside them. Luckily, her father had probably been a tall man - not as tall as me, but at least it wouldn’t look as if I was wearing the clothes of a hobbit. I squeezed myself inside the jeans and buttoned up the dark navy blue shirt.

I went to the wardrobe at the back of the room and opened it, finding a full body mirror on the inside of the door. I stared at my reflection - my transformation into a commoner was almost complete, it seemed. If it weren’t for my tattoos and the fact that I still looked devilishly handsome, I would pass for a regular guy. Maybe.

I looked around the room, immediately deciding that I wouldn’t be bringing any girl there. The bed was so small I wondered how the hell I’d fit in there, and I could already see it crashing to the floor if I, ahem, tested it further. Besides, I wasn’t really sure how Natalie would feel if I stumbled through the front door as drunk as a lord, a stripper or two under my arms.

There were a few paintings hanging on the wall, which I presumed to be Natalie’s work - I could remember something about her being an Art student or whatever. There was also a small balcony that overlooked the yard; curious, I stepped outside, squinting my eyes as the sun beat down on me. Down below a bunch of kids stood around the wreck that was the swimming pool, wandering in and out of it mindlessly. The fat kid, Billy, looked up and, seeing me, flipped me the finger. I waved at him and showed him my middle finger too. Yeah, I could see the locals were already loving me.

Now all I had to do was find out where the closest bar was.