Sheikh's Revenge Read Online Free PDF Page B

superheroines and even cheerleaders with masks. I didn’t see any sheikhs. Hell, most guys were about as creative as me, just grab a domino mask or something. If there was a sheikh guy there, then I have to give him credit for at least going all out.”
    “Heh, right now can you pass the bacon?”
    ***
    Addison’s life had taken a bizarre turn in the last few days. First she’d been fired, then she’d been trashed for one of the only times in her life, and then she’d had the best sex ever with a mystery man. Now, she was sitting in the waiting room of Amun Petrol waiting for a job interview with the owner, Sheikh Zahir Amun. It seemed that in the last week or so, her life had somehow become Middle Eastern themed. She had no real expertise in oil and knew nothing about the Middle East. She knew vaguely that most of Dubai, where the company was based, had the reputation of being a great tourist spot and full of shopping centers that appealed to the upper class. Since she was far from being rish, it wasn’t like Addison had thought much about it.
    So why she’d gotten a call from the owner’s sister, Fairuza Amun, who’d asked her at seven on Monday morning if she could come in for an interview that Wednesday, Addison didn’t know. She was the least qualified person she could think of to start working for an international oil conglomerate.
    Not that she had been offered the job.
    Considering what a disaster she’d been lately, Addison would be happy if she could get in and out of this without tripping or spilling something or any other embarrassing mishap. She had no hope that she’d actually be hired. Even if she didn’t have a terrible work record now, there had to be hundreds of secretaries with more experience to work for Sheikh Amun. So that left her clutching her resume portfolio tightly to her chest and trying not to get too nervous as she waited for Sheikh Amun to call her back.
    All you have to do is not humiliate yourself for thirty minutes. I know you can do that.
    Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she almost wanted to leave before the door opened and the sheikh stepped out. He was tall, probably about 6-foot-3 with broad shoulders and a physique that complimented his tailored suit. He had a dark, olive complexion and his eyes seemed vaguely familiar, which seemed absurd. And yet, she’d rarely seen someone with eyes that looked like gold.
    Her breath caught in her throat even as she scuttled into the office.
    It can’t be. It just can’t be. What are even the odds?
    She sat in front of his desk and watched as Sheikh Amun sat on the opposite side.
    Feeling awkward and overwhelmed by her suspicion, she stammered, “I…thank you for interviewing with me. This came as quite a surprise.”
    He nodded, even as he looked over her resume. “You have a degree in design but you were Clayton McDermott’s personal secretary for almost nine months. How does that match?”
    Her heart fell down to her toes. She knew that voice. How he hadn’t recognized hers, she didn’t know. Okay, so she’d been talking pretty huskily up on the roof, especially with the passion overtaking her. She hadn’t exactly sounded like her typical “perky assistant” self, and her mask had been far more ornate than his. Between those obvious eyes, that voice that could melt her with a few syllables, and his domino mask, she knew exactly who Sheikh Amun truly was.
    But does he know me? He’s definitely playing this ridiculously cool if he does.
    “I…well, I took whatever job I could. Then I was doing fairly well with Mr. McDermott, but he wanted to ‘go a different direction’ with his help.”
    “And that means?”
    “Well, older maybe? I guess he thought I was too inexperienced in some areas. So maybe a bit of reverse ageism?” she said, hoping it didn’t sound too stupid.
    Sheikh Amun considered that. “I’ll be honest. I’ve been looking for a new secretary, and with your design skills, I anticipate