The Sheikh's Stolen Bride-To-Be

Jalaal’s laugh vibrated through me, sending heat to my belly. He pulled back so he was still draped atop me but no longer resting his weight on me.

“It’s not my fault you’re so breakable,” he argued.

“Breakable? Pfft.” I smacked his arm lightly. “It’s not my fault you’re twice my size. Why do you have to be so tall?”

He pressed a kiss to the side of my face. “What would it take to make you happy, woman? I’m very attached to my feet, but I’ll cut them off if that’s what it would take.”

I laughed and pushed at his chest. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

He growled playfully and nipped at my earlobe. Then he rolled to the other side of the bed and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. After looking at it for a minute, he frowned.

“What is it?” I asked.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I forgot that I’m due to meet an important guest at one of my hotels across town. I’ll get somebody else to go. If they’re offended, too bad.”

After that clipped sentence, he rolled back over and took me in his arms.

“No!” I protested. “You should go.”

Jalaal’s dark eyes locked onto mine. “I don’t mind missing it. I’d rather stay with you.”

“I’d feel bad if you let me get in the way of your business,” I told him. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”

He poked me in the side. “I thought we just established that you are actually very small.”

I frowned. “You know what I mean.”

Jalaal nipped the end of my nose with his teeth, sending me into a flurry of giggles.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?” he asked. “If you’d rather I cancel, just say the word.”

“I think you should go,” I insisted. “I would feel bad if you didn’t.”

Jalaal studied me for a moment as he deliberated. I tried to look as innocent as possible, and not like I was planning to jet out of there at the first available moment.

“Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll go. You’ll be here when I get back?”

“Totally,” I lied. “I’ll probably be really lazy and go back to sleep.”

I watched Jalaal dress, my dread evolving into full-blown panic. This was the last time I would ever see him. I felt horrible for lying to him, but I supposed it was par for the course. I’d already omitted that I had a child—it was a slippery slope from there.

Jalaal kissed me sweetly on the lips and told me to help myself to anything in the kitchen. I told him I would, if I could even find the kitchen again. He laughed, put on his shoes, and was gone.

I stayed in bed a moment longer than I’d intended to. I told myself it was because I was still a bit groggy, but really I was just trying to absorb as much of his scent as possible. I was going to miss him. I didn’t know him all that well, but I felt like we’d connected on a much deeper level than was the norm.

And it broke my heart.

It only took me a couple minutes to gather my things. I debated leaving the dress Jalaal had bought me the day before, but I figured he wouldn’t have a use for it anyway. That, and part of me felt like without a physical reminder of this weekend, I’d talk myself out of believing it had been real.

Half an hour later, I was back in my old hotel room at Caesar’s Palace.

The fantasy was officially over.

***

I thought about Jalaal the whole flight home. It wasn’t a long flight, but it still made for some pretty significant thinking time. I couldn’t help but wonder what things would be like if I were still with him. We’d probably be in first class. Maybe he’d even have his own plane. We’d be sipping champagne and holding hands, and there wouldn’t be any kids kicking relentlessly at the backs of our seats.

It seemed pointless to follow that thought process, but I did. I couldn’t stop it. I kept wondering if he’d found me gone yet. He must have. Did he care?

The longer I spent away from him, the more I tried to convince myself he didn’t. By the time I reached my apartment building, with its peeling facade and grimy call-board, I was having a full-blown fight with myself.