Chapter 7

My breath was held as he closed the distance between us and held me up, I want this man so badly, he feels like danger and I am realizing that I love danger, he held me close as he sniffed through my hair, my neck while he hovered about my lips

"Dear Lord," I gasped, his touch sending tremors down my thighs, a sensation I'd only read about in E.L. James' "Fifty Shades of Grey" or Sylvia Day's "Crossfire" series.

But this seems much more intense; I can sense a burning sensation down there while his hands go through my body; I need his hands there, I ache for his hands, or perhaps him, down there where the wetness is glistening and threatening to pour.

His mouth moved down to my neck, drawing a soft gasp from me. His hands were everywhere, and I ached for him to touch me in the one place I wanted him the most. The sensation was too much; I felt like I was going to burst if he didn't touch me there.

"I just... want to know what you taste like..." he murmured, his words trailing off, sparking a new wave of anticipation within me. His statement hung heavily in the air, leaving a poignant silence in its wake.

Unable to contain the whirlpool of emotions spinning within me, I silenced his words with a deep, lingering kiss. As I surrendered to him, he drew back slightly, his gaze locked with mine, and whispered, "This is purely out of curiosity, Gabby."

And with those words, he claimed me, in the most intimate way possible, not knowing that he was the first, the only man, to have ever done so. His touch was gentle yet insistent, coaxing me into the realm of ecstasy, marking the beginning of our unspoken understanding, a thread that connected us in the most profound way. The night was filled with whispered confessions and stolen kisses, a testament to the strange, compelling bond that had begun to form between us.

***

I woke up alone, my body aching in the most glorious of ways. The memories of the previous night surged within me - his touch, his taste, and his voice still ringing clearly in my head. I remembered the shock on his face when I told him it was my first time, his initial hesitation before my reassurance. Then, the hours of pleasure that followed, which I knew I would cherish in my heart forever.

The buzz of my phone jerked me back to the present. A bank alert. He had kept his word. I sighed, a wave of relief washing over me. Picking up my phone, I dialed his number. His assistant, Ahmed, picked up. He was in a meeting but I was told to wait.

A moment later, his voice filled the line. "Gabby," he whispered.

"Hamdan," I answered, my voice trembling.

"Thank you for the money," I managed to utter. "I appreciate it."

"I'm sorry for leaving you like that," he replied, his voice dropping an octave. "How are you? Do you need anything?"

"I'm okay," I assured him, clutching my chest. "I'm heading to work soon."

"Alright, that's fine. A driver is outside to take you. It was... nice doing business with you, Gabby," he said and then hung up.

I sat there, stunned. "Doing business?"

“WTF did that even mean”

I thought, the words echoing ominously in my head. What was I expecting? Was I expecting sweet morning-after talks, intimate breakfasts, perhaps? Or was I imagining a future with him? I shook my head. "Wake up, Gabby," I murmured to myself. I was not in a romantic movie but in the harsh reality of my life.

With that, I headed to the shower, the hot water helping to wash away not just the physical remnants of last night, but the dreamy thoughts clouding my mind. It was back to work, back to my reality.

The subsequent days blurred together in a whirlwind. My mother's medical expenses were taken care of and her treatment had started, but still, an unshakeable feeling of emptiness clung to me. I was relieved, but my heart ached in ways I couldn't explain. I longed for the solace of the shower, where I could let my tears flow freely. Why was there this hollow feeling within me?

Ever since our lovemaking, the Sheikh was nowhere to be found. He had made his intentions clear; I was a one-time diversion. He treated it all as a transaction, and nothing more. However, I felt a painful void, as though a piece of me had been taken and left unfilled.

In the midst of my contemplation, I was summoned to the chief matron's office. As soon as I walked in, she said, "Miss Gabriele, you've been selected to join Sheikh Aasif's personal medical team. Here are your ID and necessary documents."

My heart skipped a beat. "You're fortunate," she continued. "Not many have this opportunity. You'll receive triple your current benefits. Meet the HR for further details."

After a meeting with HR, I was left dazed and bewildered. He wanted me on his team but hadn't uttered a word to me in five days. Who did he think he was? And most importantly, why am I upset about his silence?

As I made my way to the nurses' station, I saw Ahmed waiting.

"Miss Gabrielle," he greeted. "The Sheikh would like to see you in his office if you have a moment." I nodded, following him into the elevator towards Hamdan's office.

As soon as I stepped into his office, his gaze met mine.

"Gabby," he said softly.

"Hamdan," I replied. The space between us evaporated as we gravitated toward each other. I fell into his embrace, our lips meeting in a desperate kiss.

"I've missed you, Gabby. I've longed for you," he whispered against my lips.

His words stirred something within me.

"I've missed you too, Hamdan," I confessed, our bodies entwined on the office couch. With a swift motion, he pushed aside my panties, and in the next moment, penetrated into me, oh, how much I love him there, deep, sweet, and domineering, The pleasure was exquisite and overwhelming. I clung to him, surrendering to the irresistible pull between us. At that moment, I decided I wasn't about to let him go. He was mine.

Returning to my station, I felt as if I was floating on cloud nine. The exhilaration of my encounter with Hamdan lingered, leaving a delicious warmth spreading throughout my body. As I busied myself with routine tasks, memories of our recent conversation played out in my mind.

“Just a simple curiosity, huh?” I had teased him, a playful glint in my eyes. “Remind me again how many curiosities land a woman in your private office?”

His hearty laugh filled the room. “Only those rare ones who manage to bewitch a Sheikh,” he shot back, the humor in his eyes mirroring mine.

“What can I say? It’s a talent,” I retorted, laughing. Our banter flowed naturally as if we had known each other for years instead of days.

At the end of our time together, as we reluctantly parted, he held my gaze, a tender smile curving his lips. "You know, Gabby, perhaps you should consider marrying me. We seem to enjoy each other's company immensely."

I was taken aback, but I responded, feigning nonchalance. “Marry you, Hamdan?” I teased, my eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "I rather enjoy being your mistress."

"Then maybe you should move in," he said, his voice almost pleading. "I'd like to see you more often. We could..."

I interrupted him, "And what would your girlfriend, Nana, think about that?" I quipped, raising an eyebrow.

He didn't answer, and I didn't expect him to. As I stepped into the elevator, a smile crept onto my face. Whatever the future held, right now, I was living my best life. And it felt amazing.

"Emergency! Clear the hallway!" The words echoed in the sterile, white hospital corridors.

I froze as a flurry of activity ensued. Wheelchairs and stretchers whizzed past, with doctors and nurses in tow. "What happened?" I turned to one of my colleagues, but all she did was shrug, her eyes glued to the unfolding scene.

The whispers traveled like wildfire. "The Sheikh... he's been in an accident..."

A feeling of dread crept over me. The Sheikh? Hamdan? But we were just together a few days ago. I had felt a connection, a bond forming between us. But then he had gone silent. His cold response to my message, 'I'm doing great, Miss Gabrielle', had left me wondering if I had imagined it all.

His frail figure being wheeled into the accident and emergency ward snapped me back to the present. I saw Ahmed nearby, explaining the situation to the chief surgeon.

I rushed to the emergency unit, my heart pounding. I spotted Ahmed in the chaos, briefing a senior doctor. "Ahmed," I called my voice barely a whisper. "What happened?"

"The private jet, it... it collapsed," he said, his voice strained. And then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd.

A wave of helpless pain washed over me. People flowed in and out of the reception area, the Sheikh's well-wishers, and loved ones, all equally worried. I felt so alone, with no one to lean on.

As the hours crawled by, I threw myself into work. But my thoughts were with the Sheikh, praying he would make it through.

While passing the operating theatre, I ran into Morgan, fresh from surgery. "Morgan, how's the Sheikh?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

"He's stable, for now," she replied, pulling off her surgical mask. "But he might not remember anything when he wakes up."

The world seemed to stop. No memories? I felt the floor give way beneath me, the words echoing in my head. No memories... everything we shared, is gone. The dialogue that brought us close, our shared laughter, his proposal. Would he remember any of it? Would he remember me?