Mistress Of The Sheikh

“I’m out of here. Dawn, if your brother, the high-muck-amuck of the universe, lets you use the phone, give me a call tomorrow. Otherwise—”

Nick’s hand closed on her arm. “You will go nowhere,” he growled, “until I have answers to my questions.”

“Dammit,” Amanda said, gritting her teeth and struggling against his grasp, “let go of me!”

“When I’m good and ready.”

“You have no right—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Nick and Amanda looked at Dawn. She was staring at the two of them as if she’d never seen them before. “What in hell is going on here?”

“Don’t curse,” Nick said sharply.

“Then don’t treat me like an imbecile.” Dawn slapped her hands on her hips and glared. “Yes, I invited Amanda here tonight.”

“As my ‘gift’,” Nick said, his mouth twisting.

“That’s right. I wanted to give you something special for your birthday.”

“Did you really think I’d find it appealing to have you provide a woman for my entertainment?”

“Holy hell,” Amanda snarled, “I was not provided for your entertainment! And don’t bother telling me not to curse, Your Dictatorship, because I don’t have to take orders from you.”

“I can’t imagine what my sister was thinking when she made these arrangements.”

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