Free Sheikh's Ex-Girlfriend (Khayyam Sheikh Series #1) by Sophia Lynn Page B

she realized very quickly that this was a story that they absolutely had to have. She could see herself as the protagonist, a young woman who had come to the stone fortress in a sea of sand to better herself, and she could see even more of Nasim in the man who had rose up from obscurity to create a better world than the one he had been born to.
    The story was a dark one. She knew from the beginning that it could not have a happy ending, and if there was one, it would make the rest of the book feel like a cheat. Before she reached the end, she put the manuscript down, marking it with a note that said that this was one that must be kept.
    Ella realized that she was shaking a little. The book would be stunning. As long as the writer had not done something extremely stupid in the last fifty pages, it was going to be a classic. It might be the pride of her career that she had found it. It was more than that, however.
    Ella had never been a particularly suspicious woman. She had always been someone who was practical, down to earth. She didn't believe in signs, or at least, she hadn't until that moment. However, what the writer and the world seemed to be telling her was clear as day.
    If you have love, love. It is truly that simple.
     She didn't know where she and Nasim would be in the future. She didn't know what they were going to do with each other or what they needed. She didn't know where they would end up or what would happen to them in the long run.
    All she knew was how they felt today. All she knew was the love they had this moment, and from the core of her being stretching out to the tips of her fingers and the soles of her feet, she knew that was enough.
     Ella stepped carefully away from the manuscripts. If Nasim was going to be away for a few days, that gave her some time. She had work to do.
    ***
    His plane had gotten in late enough that it wasn't really practical to go see Ella. A part of him protested that it wouldn't matter that much, that she would be pleased to see him, but he sternly reminded himself that she was an independent woman who likely would not enjoy being roused from her bed at three in the morning. Instead, he contented himself with a text telling her that he would see her first thing in the morning, and collapsed into his bed at the penthouse apartment he kept in Dalal.
    He awoke just a handful of hours later, surprisingly alert and with a reply.
    I'm looking forward to seeing you. There's no work I need to do today, so just come up to my apartment when you get here. There's no such thing as too early.
     Nasim blinked. She had been neck-deep in submissions when he had last spoken to her, but he supposed that publishing had its low and high tides like anything else. He showered, dressed, and dropped by their favorite bakery before he drove to her apartment.
    There was something bittersweet about this kind of intimacy, he thought wryly. It was what you would expect out of a married couple, though perhaps not one where the male was the most powerful man in the country. Sometimes, it startled him how much he relished moments like this. Suddenly, he wasn't Sheikh Nasim Bakkal. He was simply a man who loved a woman and who wished to bring her baked goods.
    The smells coming from the bag were warm and sweet, and as he ascended the steps to her apartment, he thought about what they might do that day. There were so many nooks and corners of Dalal that she had never been to, and he wanted nothing more than to explore them with her.
    At his first knock, the door opened, and Nasim's jaw dropped. If he had been a man with lesser reflexes, he might have dropped the bakery bag entirely.
    Ella stood in the doorway, and instead of the trousers and blouses she favored in New York, or the flowing tunics that she had come to enjoy in Dalal, she was dressed only in a sheer flowing robe of transparent white. The robe covered her from neck to knees, but through it, he was able to make out the traces of an embroidered bra