A week in the life of a Sheikh -Saqr's story - completed

Chapter Four

The following day after a good night's sleep, Saqr woke and rolled onto his side, staring at the paperwork still waiting to be done. Stacked on his bedside table, closing his eyes. He had no choice; he had to fob her off for another day, so he could get this out of the way. While he showered, he sent his regrets that he would be tied up for the day, and she had free access to the palace and take photos as long as she had Mustafa with her all the time for her own protection.

To his disbelief, he found her waiting in his office, dressed in white pants and a loose bright blue, short sleeved top, camera in hand. She smiled sweetly. "There's no reason why I can't photo you while you work, your highness." That grated on his nerves. His jacket in his room, just wearing dark brown pants and shirt, top three unbutton, sleeves rolled up, ready for the long slog of paperwork.

"Which would take all of five minutes, since I won't be moving from the desk and head down," he noted dryly to do that exactly, sinking into his chair, rolling forward and pulled his waiting paperwork towards him and started reading over as she took shots at different angles. "Make sure you get nothing of the papers, Miss Natalie. I would hate to throw you in jail for treason."

"Don't worry, your highness, I would never give you the chance to." He shot her a hard glare, facing a camera in front of her face, cursing in his own language, going back to his work.

"Surely there are only so many shots that can be taken," he growled deep in his throat, sick of it being in his face. Out in public was different, taken in passing or posed, but this in your face every minute of the day. She did like taking her photos with more clicking of the camera, and her super lens. Did she even need to have a zoom lens, when she was so up close and personal? He glanced across, finding her taking a shot across the room with his window in the backdrop.

"Ah, but my camera loves you. The most photographic subject she has ever had." Smiling, he shook his head, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. "Alright Miss Natalie, one question, then you let me do my work. The more I do today, the more time I can spend with you, deal?" The camera lowered and cobalt eye eyed him closely, chewing on her bottom lip, nodding. "If you like I can get Mustafa to take you out for a ride in the desert. Do you ride Miss Natalie?" Her eyes widened with interest, and nodded again. Of course she did.

"Thank you, your highness, however, I would prefer to go with you, nothing against Mustafa, it's just I rather..."

"Take photos of me on a horse," he arched a knowing brow.

She beamed at him. "Exactly." Glanced at her wristwatch. "I'd come back to that question. I have errands to run." Spinning on her feet, she charged out of his office as on a mission. What? He would like to know, sending for Mustafa to follow her and find out what she is up to.

He came back to be informed, she was having morning tea, after she had changed into a dress, joining his mother. Cursing, he stood and departed. He couldn't trust that minx for a minute. He heard light laughter, and other voices as he entered his parent's private domain. It seemed there was a gathering, and he wasn't invited, he noted annoyed. Soft musical laughter drew him closer, standing off to the side as she flicked back her jet black hair, tumbling down in its glory down her back, over a light, yet bright coloured patterned dress of Arabian designs, with long sleeves that belled out from the elbow.

"Still at home, your highness," she answered his mother's question. All very cosy

"Please Cantara."

"Oh, that is such a beautiful name," she gushed. "Cantara," she repeated. "Cantara a very royal sounding name, sorry," she blushed, as if she realised what she had said. This was no hard nosed reporter. She was a romantic that put a whole different spin on it. He must play to her heart.