The Sheikh's Stolen Bride-To-Be

I could get used to this.

***

The sun spilled into the elevator when I reached Jalaal’s penthouse, bringing with it a sense of unbridled joy.

“Skyler? Is that you?” he called from somewhere vaguely past the living room. I assumed he was in the kitchen, but I didn’t know where that was since we hadn’t gotten around to the tour last night.

“Yeah, it’s me!” I called back.

I stepped through into the living room, where he met me a moment later, a dish towel tossed over his shoulder.

“You’re just in time.” Jalaal grabbed my hand and pulled me with him down a long, bright hallway.

At the end of the hallway was a kitchen, the likes of which I’d never seen before. I marveled at the dark granite countertops, gleaming stainless steel appliances, and bright white shaker cabinets. An island in the center of the room had a platter of fresh fruit on it, which I presumed Jalaal had just finished cutting up.

“Is there any part of your home that isn’t amazing?” I asked. “I feel like I’ve walked onto a movie set.”

Jalaal chuckled and seated me on one of the barstools at the island, pushing a plate toward me. “Do you want yogurt?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Moments later, Jalaal set in front of me three yogurt choices and a cup of steaming black coffee.

“What are your plans today?” he asked.

I was munching on a piece of mango at the time, but he waited patiently for me to swallow it.

“I don’t really have any plans.”

Jalaal’s lips pulled back into a smile. “You do now.”

My heart did a flip. I hadn’t had someone pay me this much attention in such a long time, and I was at a bit of a loss as to what to do.

“What do you want to do?” I asked. I popped a strawberry in my mouth to prevent me from saying anything else and ruining the moment.

He stood across from me, leaning against the counter with folded arms. I could have watched him stand like that all day. The lean muscles of his arms and chest bulged deliciously against his T-shirt.

Honestly, he could have told me he wanted to go watch paint dry for the next twelve hours and I would have happily complied. Too happily. I struggled to think of something boring enough that I wouldn’t want to do it with him. My mind came up blank.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Jalaal said, then gestured toward my plate. “Eat up. You’re going to need the energy.”

EIGHT

I needed the energy, all right.

After taking a swim in the most terrifying-but-amazing pool I’d ever been in—it hung off the side of a building that was dozens of stories tall, for crying out loud—Jalaal took me out shopping for a new dress to wear for the day. I told him I could just grab one from my hotel room, but alas, he insisted on treating me, and I could only put him off for so long.

After shopping, we spent the day wandering around some of Vegas’ classiest restaurants and casinos. We gambled. We drank. We ate. I couldn’t remember the last time I had so much fun.

I felt a bit guilty for thinking that. After all, shouldn’t anything I did with Jalaal pale in comparison to the time I spent with my son? But it felt a little more complicated than that. The time I spent with my son was for us. Me and my little guy, taking on the world together. But at the end of the day, I would always be looking after Sam. Jalaal looked after me.

I couldn’t remember the last time somebody took care of me. Not even I had taken care of me recently.

Soon, the sun’s journey across the sky reached its zenith and then continued on. I dreaded the night, because I figured I would have to leave Jalaal. I would be foolish to expect a two-night sleepover, even though he’d treated me like a queen all day.

Then he surprised me with two tickets to the newest Cirque du Soleil show. It was one the girls and I had thought about going to, but it had sold out months in advance. And, of course, they were the best seats in the house, too.

As the performers did their final bow, Jalaal revealed he had another surprise for me.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked.

My hands hurt from clapping. My face hurt from smiling. I couldn’t hope to quantify in words just how much I’d enjoyed the show, or the day in general. But I did my best.