The Sheikh's Accidental Bride (The Sheikh Wants A Wife 2)

It was the sun that woke Nadya, filtering through the skylight above. She was confused at first, trying to get her bearings. Everything felt light and bright, soft and warm. Everything felt still, and right.

And yet, everything was wrong. Panic shot through her. Whatever magic the dinner, the conversation, the stars and the moonlight might have had her under, the morning had released her. She knew where she was, and where she was, was in trouble.

She scurried about the room, thinking she was lucky that she hadn’t packed that much for the trip. She only got the one bag, and the airline she’d picked had a strict weight limit for their checked baggage. Nadya almost laughed out loud remembering. The idea of caring so much about an extra $25 when she was surrounded by so much luxury struck her as funny.

But she didn’t have time to laugh. She had to go. She didn’t want to turn her phone on. At least, not until she was out of the building. There would be frantic messages waiting for her, and she didn’t have the wherewithal to face them yet. One problem at a time.

She put on the same clothes as she had been wearing last night. They were her traveling clothes – functional and comfortable. They’d have to do for now.

She headed out to the hallway, and was immediately confused. Which way had she come, last night, nestled against his chest, safe in his arms? She’d been too sleepy to notice.

But then she saw the double-doors, and she knew. She would head through them, hang a right, and then the elevator would be on her left. She opened the door and—

Crash.

She’d opened the door not knowing someone was on the other side, carrying a loaded breakfast tray. There were breaking dishes and glasses, and the sounds of the tray settling to the ground, crashing like a cymbal.

And there, in the middle of it all, with orange juice down the front of his silk pajamas, was Salman.

“You’re awake!” he said, his first proper words after all of the “oh”s they’d both uttered.

Nadya tossed her bag, as stealthily as she could, behind the other door where he wouldn’t see or ask her about it.

“You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday?” he asked, looking at her puzzled.

“You know, you’re right. I am. I hadn’t realized.” It was a thin excuse, so she kept him from dwelling on it. “Was that my breakfast?”

He looked down at the food all over the floor. Servants had appeared, seemingly from nowhere, to clean it, but it was still everywhere.

“I wanted to bring it to you myself,” he said, sheepishly.

“Well it’s turned out really well,” she said, wiping off a little smear of egg-yolk that had somehow gotten onto his ear in the confusion.

“That may or may not be entirely my fault,” he said. “Anyway, I have a very important question to ask you,” he continued in mock seriousness. “It’s the thought that counts, true or false?”

Nadya made a great show of deliberating. “Mmm. True,” she said at last.

“Ok, good. Then, on the occasion of this breakfast, I have a favor to ask you.” She gave him an encouraging look, and he continued. “I know you probably have a million things to verify and take care of for the wedding today. But could you, just for me, skip all of it and spend the day with me?”

The question was a bit of theater. It was half a joke, half teasing. She was supposed to say “yes”, and quickly. Or she could tease him a little, and pretend to consider.

But for Nadya, it was a serious question. She tried to find a way out of it. Her clean exit strategy would be ruined if she spent any longer around this fascinating man. Who knew where they would go, and how she would get out it? Where would they be when it all came crashing down?

Unless…

Her bag sat where she had left it, perched at an odd angle born of expediency up against the wall. She glanced at it. Was anything in there really that important? If she brought her wallet, and her phone and her keys with her, was there any reason she couldn’t just leave her bag behind? With any luck, she would be able to slip away at some point in the day. Maybe leave a note. Maybe.

“Sure,” she said, putting him out of his misery.

“I thought for sure for a second you were going to say no.” He seemed puzzled. Hurt, even. Like he knew that there was something about the exchange that he was missing, but he didn’t know what.

“Oh, Salman. I was afraid you were going to find this out. I am, and have always been, not even the slightest bit a morning person.”

He smiled, the tension broken as he recognized his words from last night.

“Do you think you can still marry me,” she continued, “knowing that this is the life you’d be in for?”

“Yes,” he said, enthusiastically.

It was a little game they were playing. An inside joke, based on a new memory that they’d made together. Even though it was based in deceit, and she knew that his yes was not really for her, she still got goosebumps when she heard it.

“Good to know,” she said, quietly. Then she cleared her throat. “I’m going to go change. I’m guessing you will, too?”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” he said, already walking backwards. “I may go like this.” Then he turned, and walked away, casting just one glance over his shoulder before he rounded the corner to his side of the suite.

The door slid closed silently. Nadya grabbed her bag and hauled it off to her room. It was time to focus. Could she really do this? Was there nothing in her luggage that wasn’t disposable?

As she sorted through everything, the answer turned out to be no. She’d miss her traveling clothes and her Chuck Taylors, but they’d probably needed to be replaced for a few months already.

She donned the dress she had meant to wear for her sister’s anniversary party. Jasmine had planned a day party, luckily, so the dress would hopefully be appropriate for whatever Salman was going to throw at her. She got herself together as quickly as she could and headed to the elevator. And waited.

Traditionally, Nadya thought, it was supposed to be the woman who took longer to get ready. She considered, for a moment, just leaving right there and then; getting into the elevator and running, as she’d planned not long before. But the chances that someone would see her in the lobby, or that his security in the lobby below would catch her, was just too high. The whole machine was too settled in here to make a clear getaway. She saw that now.