Sheikh's Fake Fiancee

“I’m glad I could serve my sheikh then,” she said, rolling her eyes a bit. “I wasn’t trying to win a contest, Bahan. I just…we only have seventy-two hours before we go back to New York and our crazy lives. I’ll probably now have real-life paparazzi trying to snap pictures of me or some huge news outlet wanting to interview me as an up-and-coming royal.”

“I like the emphasis on the word coming, myself,” he said, chuckling and then kissing her temple. “I know, and that’s why I’m glad we can have some time to ourselves. Some pleasure…”

“Exactly! I feel like you deserve it. I mean, I know you’re getting to keep the throne out of the deal, but any woman could have helped you.”

His nostrils flared and Bahan pushed some of his frustration and temper away. It was mostly at his mother, who had most likely sneaked in harsh words for his bride before their big day. “I did not want just any warm body to fill this slot. Even if it’s for a couple of years.” He worked hard to keep his voice from coming out too mournful.

Bahan knew exactly who he wanted to be the sheikha by his side, now or a decade from now. There was hardly any woman he’d ever met with more strength, compassion, or familial loyalty. But he didn’t know if Jennifer could ever feel the same way. The last thing he wanted was to put any more pressure on her when her life was already so chaotic.

“I know, but the sheikh—”

“Is now you,” he said, steadying her chin with his fingers. “Do you understand that part, my wild one? Whatever Mother blathered on about, however you feel about your coming role, fleeting as it may be, you are the sheikha now. You don’t have to answer to anyone at all.”

Her blue eyes lit up and she bit her lip, the playfulness seeming to come back into her words. “So if I don’t answer to anyone, does that mean I don’t have to listen to you either, Bahan?”

“I never said anything quite like that,” he replied, winking at her. “After all, you are my wife and you serve me.”

“Well, it is the twenty-first century now, and I’ve always been an equal-opportunity woman. I think that if I give you a mind-numbing orgasm, then I’m due one too, and soon.”

“I suppose that it could be arranged, sheikha,” he said, stroking her cheek. “We’ll get through Sydney’s operation together. And Mother’s controlling ways and whatever the press or even other countries might want.”

“Wait? So I’d go to a state dinner?”

“I’d try and avoid that or any duties for you outside of what you need or want until Sydney’s better. Right now, we just focus on your family doing what it needs to to thrive right now. I think the world and the press can wait. It grieves me a bit because I would like you to see Yemen, but it’s not time yet.”

She frowned back at him. “That’s kind of good in a way. I was worried that we were going to be sneaking a trip to the Middle East in. I didn’t want to leave the country.”

He laughed, letting it grow to a low rumble in his chest, even as he buried his nose in her hair, reveling in the scent of her, that sweet hint of freesia. “I didn’t say that, my love.”

Her eyes grew wide. “I…where are we going?”

“The City of Lights, or Paris, whichever moniker you prefer. We’ll be home by Tuesday morning and you know the best doctors in the world plus your mother are there. Sydney will be fine for a few days without you, I promise.”

She sighed and snuggled into him, her earlier lust seemingly burned out. “I hope so. I just…I’m not sure how I can really let myself go, knowing my baby sister is in some hospital an ocean away.”

“We’ll talk about that in the morning,” he said, sensing that his bride needed rest. The day’s events—all of them—had been too much for her. “Now,” he said, kissing those soft lips once more. “Get rest, Jennifer, and I’ll show you the city as you’ve never seen it before.”

Chapter Eight

Jennifer felt if she were on autopilot at the hotel. She’d slept well, which surprised her. Since the revelation of Sydney’s diagnosis, it felt like she’d only caught cat naps here and there. Getting through the day on coffee and the occasional energy drink, as well as through bleary eyes, had become her new normal. So to be fully comfortable and content while curled up in Bahan’s strong arms had been a revelation. They’d been intimate in small ways before but had never hit a home run, as Rose might have put it with her Jersey leanings.

He’d also never spent the night with her. She felt like with her sister’s health teetering, she couldn’t afford to be away from her apartment or the hospital for too long. She just hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of sleeping a full night with her lover.

Husband.

That word struck her across the center of her chest as surely as if she’d been hit by a two-by-four. It felt so serious, so heavy. Yes, they’d annul eventually, and this was a marriage of convenience for both of them—a business deal. Yet, she’d never been married before, and for right now, Bahan wasn’t just her lover or the man she cared about. Under both US and Yemeni law, he was her husband, and that was a huge and consuming thing.

But he seemed to also be the only one who could calm her. She hadn’t slept like this since she’d heard the doctor calmly rattle off Syd’s diagnosis. That had to mean something, right?

She’d been dating for over ten years, through high school and college, and even considered marriage with Dustin. At least until that damn cocktail waitress who one of his business associates finally came clean to her about. It was never a good idea to have any lover or fiancé or anyone else who traveled too much. It led to…temptation, to put it mildly. But she’d always thought it would take time. You’d date for a year, really get to know each other, then you’d commit based on the pros and cons of an alliance. It would be methodical.

You couldn’t possibly be swept up in a swirl of passion after only knowing each other for a few hours at a club or after a date or two.

And yet, Bahan could calm her fears, give her a sense of safety and security that she’d never known before. It had to mean something. Her head was spinning as she finished unpacking.

She also couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling in the pit of her chest, this pure panic that it was wrong for her to even have this weekend, either. But Bahan was being a gentleman, giving her space to shake the jet lag out of her eyes as well as to collect herself. Jennifer appreciated that. God, she loved so much about him already. It all just seemed far too fast.

Her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter and she bit her lip, fretting that it might be Bahan and that she’d zoned out far too fast. When she glanced at the screen, she realized that it was her sister. Her heart stopped in her throat and she was terrified something bad had happened. Of course, if it had, her mother would have been the one calling, or Rose.