Chosen as the Sheikh's Royal Bride

Sorry. His hands tightened at his sides. Sorry. He looked at the bed he’d saved just for his wife. For his queen. Thought of what he’d just done. Because he’d trusted her.

But she’d been lying to him all the while. Lying to his face. Destroying everything he’d tried to achieve.

Fury built inside him, choking him, freezing him from the inside out, as he whispered, “Damn you.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

HOW HAD THIS all gone so horribly wrong? Omar was looking down at her as if she were a stranger.

“Please,” Beth choked out, “you can’t think—”

“Can’t think what? That you lied to my face from the moment we met?” His black eyes were hard. “That while I stupidly trusted you, and chose you as my bride, you and your twin sister were laughing yourselves sick at your deception?”

“I wasn’t!” Her voice shook. “We had a good reason!”

“Tell me,” he cut her off.

Beth held the sheet up higher over her naked body, all the way to her neck. She took a deep breath.

“When Edith—my sister—got your invitation,” she said haltingly, “she couldn’t leave the lab, you see, but she really needed money for cancer research. So she asked me to come in her place.”

Omar stared at her, his eyes cold.

“It was just supposed to be fun,” she said weakly. “A chance to see Paris and do some good in the world.”

“Do some good,” he repeated incredulously.

Beth’s cheeks went hot as shame filled her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “If I’d had any idea you might actually choose me—I swear to you, I never would have agreed to come!”

“But you did agree,” he said flatly. “You agreed to come to Paris and pretend to be Dr. Edith Farraday. You agreed to be in my top ten. You agreed to sign my contract. You agreed to come to Samarqara in my top five and you allowed me to introduce you to the world, to my country, as my bride!”

Silence fell in the darkening shadows of the king’s bedroom.

Grief and regret stifled her. She hung her head, staring at the priceless rug on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated numbly.

Omar turned away. He pulled on some clothes from a wardrobe. Casual ones, simple shirt and trousers.

“Please.” Fighting back tears, Beth took a deep breath. “If you’d only try to understand—”

“I do understand.” Omar didn’t look at her. “You made a fool of me and everything I believe in for the sake of three million dollars.”

“For cancer research! Money to help my sister save lives—children—”

“I don’t care what it was for.” His jaw tightened as he looked out at the open balcony. Outside, the afternoon sun sparkled across the Caspian Sea. There were distant sounds of people calling across the gardens, and the noise of the city beyond the palace.

“You made my people love you,” he said in a low voice. “And I hate you for that most of all.”

She started to speak, then fell silent. What could she say?

He turned back toward the bed. With his face shadowed against the sunlight, she could no longer see his expression, and for that she was glad. All she could see was the outline of his body, the body that had given her such pleasure. She whispered, “I was going to tell you everything.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”