The Sheikh's Stolen Bride-To-Be

I’d never known this place existed. I doubted most people did. When Jalaal had told me that the tiny private elevator at the back of the casino was taking us to the roof, I’d pictured steaming vents and a stunning view. I got the stunning view, but otherwise the roof was far beyond my expectations.

“We can drink up here?” I asked as we passed by a spectacular glass-topped bar.

“Of course we can,” Jalaal said, chuckling. “This is Las Vegas.”

I had to remind myself that Jalaal clearly came from great wealth and this was probably just another day for him. We slipped through the palm trees and fountains to a small table hedged in by floral bushes. The perfumed air wrapped around me like a blanket, still warm from a long, sunny day.

A petite brunette appeared before I’d even arranged myself on the seat. She beamed and welcomed us to the VIP rooftop.

“It’s nice to have you back, Sheikh Afsal,” she said. “Just your usual?”

He smiled and gave her a curt nod. “And whatever Ms. Monroe would like.”

I was still absorbing the grandeur of everything around me, and it took me a moment to realize that he was referring to me. I tuned in as soon as the server turned her smile on me.

“I’ll just have a rum and Coke,” I said.

Though her smile didn’t drop, I could tell from her eyes that she knew I didn’t belong. Or perhaps I just felt so out of place that I was attributing feelings to her that she didn’t have. Whatever the case, I felt as if I stuck out like a sore thumb.

Jalaal, on the other hand, was the picture of calm. Being a wealthy sheikh must have desensitized him to this kind of luxury. I wondered what that would be like.

The richest I’d ever been had been back in high school. Before Sam was born. Before college debts. Back when I’d been living with my dad and almost all the money I earned at my crappy grocery store job had been mine to spend as I pleased. During that time, I always had the best hair, the best makeup, the best nails. I treated myself like a princess, or as much of one as I’d ever be able to. I’d thought that once I finished college and got a job I would eventually return to a state where I didn’t owe a ton of money to the government and could afford to splurge a little on myself.

That time never came, though. I finished school and fell straight into motherhood.

But this guy had lived a completely different life. I didn’t know anything about him, but I already suspected he’d never been denied a wish. He probably had a number in his phone he could text to have whatever he wanted delivered to him in thirty minutes or less.

And he wanted to have a drink with me? He was probably just being nice because I helped him at the craps table. Maybe one of his friends had pressured him to go find me and thank me. Maybe he was just incredibly polite. Either way, I wasn’t going to get my hopes up. We were from different worlds. If it wasn’t as glaringly obvious to him as it was to our waitress, I would be very surprised.

After the server walked away to get our drinks, Jalaal fixed me with a kind smile. “You seem nervous,” he said.

The laugh I exhaled came out as more of an amused snort than anything else. “I’m not used to being taken up to rooftop bars by foreign royalty,” I said. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“What are you used to, Skyler?” He studied me, his dark eyes pulling me in like a whirlpool. “I take it you’re not from here.”

“Ah, no.” I chuckled. “I’m a nurse. What I’m used to is aching feet and bodily fluids.” Wincing, I added, “Sorry. That’s an overshare.”

But Jalaal only laughed. “I don’t mind. I think it’s interesting.”

“Maybe you can go back to San Diego for me on Monday then,” I joked. “You’d look great in scrubs.”

Jalaal’s eyes flashed with amusement. Before he could say anything else, the server returned with our drinks. I should have guessed that the ultra-prestigious, secret rooftop lounge would have faster service than a world championship tennis match.

“Can I get you anything else, sir?” she asked Jalaal.