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  Politically Incorrect: Subjugated

  Jaid Black

  Shannon Smith thinks her marriage to the intense, brooding Hani bin Nasser is one of convenience, but her mysterious Saudi husband has other plans.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Politically Incorrect: Subjugated

  ISBN 9781419930102

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Politically Incorrect: Subjugated Copyright© 2010 Jaid Black

  Edited by Martha Punches

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication July 2010

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Politically Incorrect: Subjugated

  Jaid Black

  Dedication

  To Shannon, my first published model, the original empress, and my treasured, loyal friend of ten years and running.

  To Martha, my beloved editor for almost as many years (don’t ever retire on me, woman!)

  And to my mother, Patty, the unsung heroine of Ellora’s Cave (ditto what I said to Martha!)

  This one’s for the Phenomenal Three…

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Mercedes-Benz: Daimler AG Corporation

  Chapter One

  “Where are you going?”

  The question was spoken softly, but sent chills down her spine nevertheless. He had an unnerving way of speaking, a tone that both demanded and commanded respect. And those eyes…

  More chills. She’d never seen eyes like his before. They were dark, almost black, and coldly austere. They watched her every move, calculating and assessing, as if homing in on her every thought and deed.

  Where am I going?

  Her teeth gritted as she considered telling him her life was none of his fucking business. But something inside her hesitated, a sixth sense that warned her it was in her best interest to just give him an answer. She’d have to lie, of course.

  She couldn’t tell her husband that she was going on a date with another man.

  Then again it was possible he wouldn’t care. Perhaps she was seeing warning signs in those grim black eyes that weren’t really there. Maybe he was feigning a polite interest in her comings and goings. The vows they’d spoken were, after all, a sham. Theirs was nothing more than a modern day marriage of convenience.

  Shannon Smith, now Shannon bin Nasser since the rushed wedding ceremony almost one year ago, steadied herself before meeting his gaze. She thrust her shoulders back, her chin up, and ran a hand through her soft mane of wavy golden curls with a pretended nonchalance. She met his stare and her turquoise eyes widened just a bit, always unnerved by his stoic presence.

  Damn him anyway. He was only twenty-six years old, a full decade younger than her, yet she’d never met anyone more formidable. Ever.

  Physically, her young husband was quite tall at six feet four inches. His shoulders were broad, his physique sleekly muscled, and his arms vein-roped in that I-just-came-from-the-gym way. His jet black hair was cropped close to his head, his complexion bronzed olive in color.

  He rarely spoke. In the eleven months they’d been married, they had never carried on a real conversation. She had tried…oh how she’d tried! But he’d ignored her, never giving her much material to work with. The result was the feeling that she was married to a stranger, and one whom she’d never felt terribly comfortable around.

  Perhaps he thought she was too old, too American, too…who knew what. It didn’t matter really. In a few weeks he would be done with his degree and heading back home to the Middle East, halfway across the globe.

  And she would be forgotten, as though she never was.

  She frowned, for some reason not liking that thought. It would have been nice if they could have been friends, but the quietly intimidating giant currently staring her down had never seemed particularly interested in developing a friendship.

  Shannon delicately cleared her throat and glanced down at the floor. Hani bin Nasser was not only physically and mentally intimidating, but with his chiseled face and straight nose was also a leading contender for the title of world’s sexiest man. On the few occasions they’d been out together since they’d spoken their “I dos”, she couldn’t help but notice all the gawking girls wanting his attention…and no doubt wondering how she’d gotten him.

  Not that she wasn’t beautiful herself. On the contrary, Shannon was very aware that men had found her desirable since the day she’d hit puberty. Possessing full D-cup breasts, a perfect ass, and an exotically pretty face, she’d never wanted for attention from the opposite sex.

  But this man, Hani, was so much younger than she and heralded from a culture that placed a lot of importance on youth. In the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, a woman was considered old at age thirty. Shannon had surpassed that milestone six years and some months ago.

  “Out with some friends,” she finally said, glancing up. “There are leftovers in the refrigerator if you get hungry while you’re studying.”

  He said nothing, just stared at her. After eleven months of marriage, she should have been more accustomed to this treatment.

  Shannon blew out a breath. “I, uh…I guess I should finish getting ready.” She found her nerve and pierced him with her steady gaze. “You have my cell number if you need me.”

  * * * * *

  “I could have lied,” Shannon pointed out, irritated, “but I told you the truth instead.” She ran an agitated hand through her hair. “Besides, it’s not like you didn’t know I was married before I agreed to accept this date!”

  The conversation was repetitive and ridiculous. She wouldn’t be married for much longer. Hani would be finished at the university in a few weeks and would return home. Shannon’s purpose in his life would then be exhausted and their verbal contract fulfilled.

  She had told Carl Anderson, the man sitting across from her at the outdoor bistro table, the entire story before. He was well aware that she had accepted direly needed cash from the bin Nasser family in exchange for wedding vows that would later be voided. Something had gone wrong with Hani’s student visa and, long story short, she married him to keep him from being deported before he acquired his Masters degree in business.

  It had seemed the perfect trade-off at the time. Hani could stay in the States and Shannon could pay off her father’s mounting medical bills. Not that the money had done any good. Her dad had passed away three months ago despite receiving the best cancer treatment available. Regardless, at the time it had been the right choice.

  Carl had
known her situation for a couple of weeks now. She was frustrated and annoyed that he continued to goad her on the subject.

  “You don’t know anything about this Hani guy,” Carl said defensively, lighting a cigarette. His blue eyes swept across her cleavage before finding her face. “For all you know he could be a terrorist!”

  Shannon sighed. God, how she hated racism. Terrifying? Yes. A terrorist? Not a chance.

  She was hardly an expert on Islamic culture, but she knew enough to realize that true, devout Muslims weren’t kamikaze weirdos. They wanted peace, just like everyone else. And Hani was definitely a devoutly religious man. He prayed five times a day like clockwork, fasted during the daylight hours of Ramadan, and had never once touched drugs or alcohol in the near year they’d lived together. Truly he possessed an iron-willed commitment to his religion and belief system in a way few men had the endurance to maintain.

  Her eyes narrowed into turquoise slits. She didn’t know why she felt so insulted on her husband’s behalf, but there it was. Carl’s remarks were unwarranted and extremely offensive. “I hope you realize how stupid you sound because if you don’t you seriously need help. You can start by giving up your daily dose of the Rash Limbug Show.”

  “Now wait just a—”

  Shannon held up a palm. “No. I’ve heard more than enough. And for the hundredth time, his name is pronounced Hah-nee, not Hay-nee!” She suspected Carl took a perverse sense of satisfaction in his continual and purposeful mispronunciation of her husband’s name. That too smacked of racism, making her wonder what in God’s name she’d been thinking when she’d agreed to this date.

  Shannon stood up, her tight, spaghetti strap, little black dress clinging to her ample curves. Good. Let him see what he’d never be getting. Asshole. She should have known better than to get involved with a guy she worked with anyway. Carl was a senior partner at the law firm she was employed at and Shannon was but one lawyer amongst many. Power differentials were never a good thing in a personal relationship. Racism was even worse.

  She stilled as a strange sensation swept over her, causing her to hesitate for a brief pause. Shannon batted her eyelashes, frowning. Goose bumps formed on her arms as she realized someone was watching her. Someone who wasn’t Carl…

  She glanced around. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a bunch of bistro patrons laughing, drinking, and eating together. She sighed, deciding she was overly tired and in need of a good night’s sleep.

  “Shannon, come on,” Carl whined. “Sit down! You’re making a scene.”

  A scene? Nobody was paying him the slightest bit of attention. And in a second neither would she.

  “I’ll see you at work,” Shannon muttered, picking up her purse. “I’ve got to go.”

  Carl’s hand reached out and snagged her arm. She grimaced, the tight grip painful. “Sit down,” Carl seethed, his jaw clenched. Apparently the high-powered attorney wasn’t accustomed to being told no. “Now.”

  “Carl,” she ground out, “I said—”

  “Remove your hand from my wife.”

  A familiar voice cut in with quiet authority. The tone was powerful and commanding, the accent heavily Arabic. Chills shot down her spine. There was a menacing quality she’d never before heard in his typically controlled voice. “Now.”

  Shannon’s eyes widened. Her gaze flew up and landed on Hani. Her pulse raced, inducing her breathing to grow a bit heavy.

  What was he doing here? How did he know she would be eating at this remote little French café? Why was he here? Was it all just a coincidence?

  Carl frowned but let go. “Take her,” he said, trying to sound all alpha male and failing miserably. “I sure as fuck don’t want her.”

  Chapter Two

  She wasn’t going to catch a break today. Shannon sighed as thunder boomed and rain began pouring from the sky. Glancing in her rearview mirror, she could still see Hani’s Mercedes-Benz trailing her comparatively modest sedan. The closer they got to their Brooklyn Heights carriage house, the more her nervousness grew. She really didn’t know what to expect next. The scene at the cafe was the most emotion Shannon had seen her husband display…ever.

  Maybe he was angry with her. Perhaps Hani felt that even though their marriage was bogus she should remain faithful until they divorced so he didn’t lose face or whatever? Yes, she decided. That must be it. This was the first date she’d gone on since their wedding day. It couldn’t be a coincidence that it was also the first time she’d witnessed the barest hint of emotion from him.

  Her back straightened, assuming a defensive posture. Her knuckles whitened around the steering wheel as she drove. She really had no reason to feel guilty or in any way badly about tonight. “My personal life is my own damn business,” she reminded herself. “I can do what I want, when I want and with whomever I want.”

  Of course, she admitted to herself with a frown, she had lied to him. Perhaps that was why Hani seemed so angry. It wasn’t the fact that she’d gone to dinner with Carl, but the fact that she’d misled him about whom she was going with.

  Shannon sighed, mentally conceding that point. There really had been no reason to lie. She would apologize when they reached home and hopefully that would set everything back to normal for the few weeks they had left together as husband and wife.

  * * * * *

  Hani bin Nasser was the only son of one of Saudi Arabia’s wealthiest, most powerful families. Not once in his life had he wanted for anything. Tons of cash, luxury cars, the best schools, the prettiest women, the finest of everything. All of it was his for the taking; he had only to say the word.

  Nevertheless, Hani had always been careful never to overindulge or to take his father’s name and money for granted. He countered the decadent temptations of the modern world with humble devotion to his religion and family. Pious and unassuming, wealthy, handsome and educated, he was considered the ultimate catch to any girl back home in the market for a husband.

  Indeed, the news of his marriage to an American Christian ten years his senior had ignited much gossip amongst the most prominent of Saudi families in his hometown of Jeddah. All of them assumed he had taken Shannon as a bride in order to remain in the States and would, of course, divorce her when the time was right. Quite the opposite, Hani had decided to stay in the States a bit longer in order to marry his wife.

  Divorce had never been, and would never be, an option.

  Born to a world so different from the one he currently inhabited, it was a normal occurrence in his culture to decide on a bride after one meeting with her. And that is precisely what had happened when he’d first laid eyes on Shannon. Hani had entered the law firm’s doors seeking a local attorney to attend to a few minor matters. By the time he’d left the Manhattan building, his cock swollen and aching, every plan he’d ever had for his regimented life had been thrown out the window.

  He’d never met a more sexually provocative woman than Shannon. The boldly feminine sway of her hips as she walked, the way her full lips curved when she smiled, her throaty laugh…

  And there was no way to forget those huge tits and round, tight ass. Wallah, they had been the center of more sexual fantasies than Hani could count. The mere thought of another man touching his wife sent him into a mental rage.

  A rage much like the one that currently consumed him.

  Hani’s jaw tightened. That American man named Carl had thought to seduce Shannon. Worse, his wife had left to meet the bastard willingly. She had even lied to him in order to do so. His hands clenched around the steering wheel as he followed Shannon back to their house. The steady pounding of rain against the windshield made his dark mood blacker.

  He shouldn’t have given her this much time to adjust to him. Indeed, she didn’t seem to be adjusting to him anyway. Every time he so much as glanced in her direction she quickly looked away, feigning obliviousness to his attention.

  They had been married for almost a year now. Obviously his first plan had failed. Pretending to study for a
degree he already held while managing his family’s businesses from afar wasn’t working. Shannon wasn’t growing accustomed to his presence and his father needed him back in Arabia.

  And then there was the issue of Shannon’s father, Allah rest his soul. Hani had realized that his wife was too overwrought with emotion to focus on anything but the kindly Mr. Smith, first during his painful illness and then later when grieving for her loss. Such was understandable to him and, he believed, the way it should have been. Hani had purposely stayed in the background since their marriage, giving Shannon the time and space she needed.

  Apparently he had stayed too much in the background, if tonight’s date with another man was any indication.

  Hani smiled grimly. He sincerely hoped that his wife would learn to love both him and his beloved Jeddah. He was going to take her home now, though she wouldn’t realize her fate until it was, as Americans would say, a done deal. And once he had her safely ensconced in his ancestral home…

  His erection pressed against the denim jeans he wore. He would never let her go.

  Chapter Three

  “I’m sorry I lied to you,” Shannon said hesitantly, too unnerved to meet his gaze. And just why did Hani have this bizarre effect on her? she wondered for the umpteenth time. She was a seasoned lawyer accustomed to command, not the shrinking violet she turned into when in her husband’s presence. “I don’t even know why I lied.” She forced a small chuckle. “I mean, I know our marriage is in name only.”

  She found her nerve and looked up, meeting the unreadable, intent stare of the man sitting across from her at the kitchen table. “I realize you’re angry because of it and, again, I really am sorry about lying.”