The Return of the Sheikh Read Online Free PDF Page A

plan to dismiss him for the time being. “Since it’s getting late, I should probably get dressed now.”
    “Yes, I suppose you should,” he said, a hint of fake disappointment in his tone. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in the black dress you have hanging behind your business suits.”
    He’d been more observant than she realized. “I’ll decide what I’m wearing after you’re gone.”
    “You should definitely consider the red lingerie.”
    Madison didn’t understand his fascination with her underwear, or how he’d correctly guessed her fondness for red silk, until she followed his gaze to some focal point at her hip. When she looked down, she saw her bra strap hanging from the closed drawer like a crimson snake in the grass. She quickly stuffed it back inside before pointing toward the door. “Out. Now.”
    “Dinner is at five-thirty sharp. Do not be late,” he said as he walked out the door and closed it behind him.
    The man’s overbearing behavior equaled his fortune, but he had a thing or two to learn about Madison’s determination. She didn’t appreciate his observations, even if he had been on target when it came to her clothing. Still, no sexy, bossy sheikh—even if he happened to be a king and her current employer—would dictate her choice in panties. In fact, Zain Mehdi would have nothing whatsoever to do with her panties. And the next time she had him alone, she planned to set him straight about what she expected from him. Namely respect.
    The sudden knock indicated she could have an immediate opportunity to do that very thing. On the heels of her frustration, she strode across the room, flung open the door and greeted the offending party with, “More commentary on my underwear?”
    When she saw the demure lady with silver hair and topaz eyes standing in the hallway, Madison realized she’d made a colossal mistake. Yet she couldn’t seem to speak around her mortification.
    “I’m Elena Battelli,” the woman said as she extended her hand. “And I am not concerned with your undergarments.”
    She accepted the gesture and attempted a self-conscious smile. “I’m Madison Foster, and I’m so sorry. I thought you were—”
    “Prince Zain, of course.”
    Realizing her state of undress had only compounded the erroneous assumptions, Madison hugged her arms tightly around her middle. “I know how this must look to you, but His Highness accidentally walked in on me.”
    The woman sent her a knowing look. “Prince Zain never does anything accidentally.”
    She wouldn’t dispute that point. “Regardless, nothing inappropriate occurred.”
    “Of course,” Elena said, her tone hinting at disbelief. “Do you find your accommodations satisfactory?”
    Who wouldn’t? The massive marble jetted tub alone was worth any grief Zain Mehdi could hand her. “Very much so, thank you.”
    She took a slight step back. “Good. Dinner’s at six.”
    “Prince Zain told me five-thirty.”
    “I am afraid you’ve been misled,” Elena said. “Dinner is always served at 6:00 p.m. That has been the designated time since I’ve been an employee.”
    Madison saw the woman as the perfect resource for information on the future king. “How long ago has that been?”
    She lifted her chin with pride. “Thirty-four years. I arrived before Prince Zain’s birth to assume my role as his bambinaia, or in English, his—”
    “Nanny,” Madison interjected, then added, “I speak Italian. I studied abroad in Florence my sophomore year in college.”
    Elena’s expression brightened. “Excellent. I am from Scandicci.”
    “I visited there a few times. It’s a beautiful place. Do you go back often?”
    All the joy seemed to drain from Elena’s face. “Not as often as I would like. My life is here with the royal family.”
    A royal family with adult sons who no longer needed a nanny. A keeper, maybe, but not a nursemaid. “How do you spend your days now that the princes are grown?”
    “I am basically in