The Sheikh’s Fake Marriage (Sheikhs of Hamari Book 2)

by Leslie North

  The woman, it turned out, was the designer. For the entire brand. And Kishon had called ahead, so a rack of clothes in Chloe’s size was already waiting in a huge private dressing room in the back. Kishon led her there, right up to the rack, and took a seat in a low, overstuffed chair. A pot of coffee waited on a side table, and Kishon poured himself a cup.

  “Am I supposed to…” Chloe gestured at the rack.

  “Try on whatever you’d like.”

  She glanced around, but there was no smaller room within the room. No curtain. “Are you going to stay?” The thought sent heat racing to her cheeks.

  “Of course I’m going to stay.” Kishon gave her a wicked grin. “I promised you my undivided attention.”

  Chloe had never once felt like such a queen. It made her feel sultry and luscious and wanted, and she reveled in that feeling. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

  A gleam came to Kishon’s eyes. “Absolutely sure. Now let me help you with those clothes.” He stood up and came over, biting his lip. “Where do we start? Ah, yes. Here.” He dispensed with her dress as quickly as he had the night before, then her pants.

  “Do you have a special talent for undressing women?” He brushed his hands over her hips.

  “Just you,” he said, and something deep in her core tugged toward him. Kishon studied the rack. “What about this?” He pulled out a red dress with demure long sleeves and a hemline that looked dangerously short.

  Chloe laughed nervously. “Where would I wear that?”

  “In my rooms at the palace.”

  “For what…kind of occasion?”

  “For me.”

  They locked eyes, and Chloe’s knees went weak.

  Kishon pulled the dress over her head, and she all but swooned into his arms. She let him turn her toward the full-length mirror in the dressing room, and she watched as he adjusted the dress over her body, his hands lingering in all the places she so wanted him to touch—her breasts, her hips, the flat of her belly. He wrapped his arms around her and dipped his head to kiss the side of her neck.

  “I don’t—I don’t think this is part of a fashion show,” she breathed.

  “Hmmm,” he said. “What about this?” He stroked one hand down and down and down until he cupped her through her dress.

  Chloe blushed deeper than she’d ever blushed in her life. “That’s not fair.” She nudged him back with her elbow.

  “Isn’t it?” teased Kishon. “Your face matches your dress now. It’s lovely.”

  He kissed her like that—a royal tease—with every outfit she tried on, until Chloe forbid him to touch her unless he could promise her a locked door.

  “Fine,” said Kishon, sounding only slightly chagrined. “We’ll go somewhere soon. But first, you need a ring.”

  The jewelry store was near the boutique, and every case sparkled with beautiful pieces. Chloe headed straight for the back.

  “Where are you going?” called Kishon.

  “To the sale…case.” Her voice trailed off, and she felt another wave of blush attack her cheeks. “Right, right.”

  They lingered in front of the cases up front, which had been rearranged in advance of their visit. In the second case, in the second row, Chloe saw it.

  An art deco ring in shining silver.

  “You like that one?”

  “I do.” Her throat ached with the emotion of the memory. “I really do.”

  He tipped her face up toward his and kissed her. “Then come to the back with me.”

  They went past the sale case to a private room. Kishon’s guards jockeyed with the jewelry store’s own security guards for position outside the door as the jeweler brought a tray of rings into the room and put it on the polished table in front of them.

  They were fake. They had to be fake.

  But—no. Nobody guarded a room like this for fake jewelry.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  These rings were massive. Too massive. You could stub your toe on one if you dropped it to the floor. Sweat pricked at Chloe’s palms. “Kishon, these are—” Too much. They were just too much.

  “Try on some of these,” he said, and then he asked one of the assistants to bring the art deco ring.

  One ring, then two, then three. All of them felt ridiculously heavy on her hands, as if they’d drag her to the ground and keep her there. By the sixth, she knew she was making a strange expression. She knew, because Kishon noticed.

  “You don’t like them,” he said gently.

  “It’s not that. They’re gorgeous. But they’re a lot.”

  He laughed, low and familiar. “They are a lot.”

  “More than I’m really…comfortable wearing.”

  He gestured to the jeweler, who presented her the Art Deco ring. The moment it was on her finger, Chloe knew it was the one. “This is it,” she said with a happy sigh. “I love this.”

  Kishon’s eyes lingered on hers. “Give me a moment, please.” His voice was directed at the guards, and within a few seconds, they were all gone, including the jeweler.

  Chloe’s heart beat faster. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, not at all. Not at all.” He took her hands in his. “During this engagement, you’re a reflection on me. My wife should have a sizable ring, to demonstrate my ability to provide her with nothing but the best. It must be perfect.”

  Chloe glanced down at the art deco ring. “I think this one is perfect. Shouldn't the ring be a good fit for me, too? The right fit for our situation?”

  He looked deeply into her eyes. “This design is special to you.”

  Her throat went tight. “It’s just like my grandmother’s ring. I would sit at her feet as much as I could growing up and twirl it around her finger while we looked at art books together. I’m not going to cry.” She laughed, wiping at the corners of her eyes with a knuckle.

  Kishon grinned at her. “I think I have a solution.”

  He stepped away to summon the jeweler, and soon the man reappeared with a single velvet box.

  Inside was an art deco ring in an even more delicate design. It was larger than the one she’d picked out, but not as big as the rocks Kishon had been pushing. Chloe slipped it on her finger.

  Magic.

  Joy, bubbling like champagne, filled her from her toes to the top of her head. Pure joy. She had never known she could feel such joy from a ring…except when she was small, and she’d loved her grandmother’s ring. This was meant to be.

  She looked at Kishon, vision blurring with tears, speechless.

  He leaned in and kissed her with gentleness and care, and in that moment, Chloe was safe. The feeling of security suffused the air around her and every breath she took. Her heart thumped loudly.

  “Will it do?” asked the jeweler.

  Kishon took her hand and squeezed. “She’ll wear it out of the store.”

  6

  Kishon studied Chloe from across the table. She looked as radiant as he had ever seen her. The new clothes—they were nothing short of a revelation. He’d seen her in her black bartender’s uniform and the wrap dress from the plane. The deep pink dress she wore tonight was based on the robes of his people, but cut closer to fall along the curves of her body in a way that made his mouth water more than the food they were sharing in his private dining room.

  “You seem a little nervous.” She was radiant, yes, but Chloe also tapped her toe against the floor, a subtle movement he couldn’t help but notice.

  “Not nervous,” she said. “Just thinking. This is delicious, by the way.”

  “One of the chef’s best recipes. Nobody makes better kabobs.” The food was one of his favorite parts about being back at the palace. He loved international travel for the sights and the women, not the cuisine.

  He’d been hungry when they landed in Hamari a couple of hours before, and when they’d come into the palace through his private entrance, dinner was the first thing on his mind—along with showing Chloe what Hamari had to offer. The whirl
wind tour of Dubai had been like something out of a dream, even for him. Of all the women he’d met, he’d never treated one to a transformation like Chloe’s. It hadn’t been about changing her looks—her honey-blonde hair was the same shade it had been—but he’d seen how much she relished a turn in the chair at the best salon in Dubai. Sitting across from him now, hair falling in shining waves over her shoulders, her nails freshly done, and that pink dress—God, that pink dress—she looked like the fiancée of a sheikh.

  “I thought I would spend the day in the city tomorrow.” Chloe’s face glowed with excitement. “The new easel kit you got me is beyond. I bet it’ll even make me into a better painter.”

  “Right.” He sipped the wine that had been perfectly matched to the food. “About that…there might not be time to paint in the morning. Perhaps the rest of the day.”

  The smile on her face dimmed. “No? I thought—” She wrinkled her nose. “Never mind what I thought.”

  “This is the being my fiancée part of our arrangement,” he said gently. “The first thing we need to do in the morning is introduce you to the elders.”

  “That’s your council, right?” Chloe grimaced. “From what you’ve told me, they sound like they might be a little uptight.”

  He laughed. “If by uptight you mean obsessed with our traditions, then yes. They’re a little uptight. But they should be thrilled to meet you. They’ve asked me to find a wife a hundred times over the years.” Worry twinged in his gut. He hadn’t found a wife the traditional way, by letting the elders play matchmaker.

  “Are you sure I’m what they have in mind?”

  Chloe was certainly not what the elders had in mind. She was not from the upper crust of Hamari society. She was not wealthy. And by now, everyone had seen the footage of her punching a man in the face—hardly something a woman of class in Hamari should be doing, according to the council.

  “Not exactly,” he hedged. “But you’re what I have in mind.”

  Chloe flipped her hair over her shoulder. “How could you not? I’m practically a princess.”

  I could make her a queen. The thought floated into his mind around the firm walls of the commitment he’d made to himself. He wasn’t going to marry a woman who didn’t love him for him. That woman couldn’t be found on Earth. Not even Chloe. That was the fatal flaw of being king. The people you met could only see you for your riches and royalty.

  Chloe hadn’t treated him that way at the bar, though, so there was a chance…

  No. There was no chance that their fake marriage would turn into anything real. After all, he’d bribed her to come here. As fiercely hot as things were between them, she was still here because he’d offered her a dream vacation, not because she was deeply in love with him.

  Which was good. Love would make things awfully complicated.

  “Practically a princess? You’ll be a queen, sooner rather than later.”

  “Ooooh. Say that again. I liked the sound of that. I—” A yawn interrupted her, and Chloe blinked hard. “Wow, sorry.” She flashed him a smile that sent attraction buzzing all down his core. “All this luxury is tiring me out.”

  He went around the table and offered his hand. “Then I have just the place for you.”

  Kishon led her down the hall to his bedroom. The bedroom suite was separate from the more public living area at the front of his apartment, and now it seemed vast in front of him. The guest room seemed almost too far from his own bedroom. Past his exercise room, a short hallway connected to a guest suite with its own bathroom. In earlier generations, it had been the queen’s suite. Fitting.

  “This is my room?” Chloe beamed up at him. “This is too much, Kishon.”

  “Too much for my fiancée?”

  She squeezed his hand, and the low laugh at the back of her throat made him hot under the collar. He could take her to bed right now, but…she needed time. Time before the reality of this arrangement set in in the morning.

  “I’ve had all your things brought in and unpacked, so you’re free to relax. Get some rest.” He nudged her into the room.

  She turned around and tipped her head back. Kishon took the invitation and kissed her, the sweet taste of the wine dancing on her lips. Chloe drew him backward into the room, but when they broke apart, another yawn overtook her.

  “Get some rest,” he repeated, a fond ache in his heart.

  “Really? My first night in the palace and you’re sending me to bed?” Chloe pouted, then laughed, the laugh turning into a yawn. “You have a point,” she admitted, and Kishon dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

  “I’ll wake you in the morning. No need to set an alarm.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “Hot. I like that.”

  “If you need anything, come get me. I’ll be stepping out for a few minutes but will be back soon.”

  He brushed his lips against hers again and returned to his own suite, his pulse thrumming beneath his skin. Yes, he wanted to destroy the bed in her room, but it was her first night in Hamari. His first priority was to settle back into his role as king.

  Being a king had felt so different in the states—there, he’d been a modern diplomat, speaking on behalf of his country. Here in the palace, the weight of royalty settled over his shoulders like a heavy cloak. He and Chloe would need to play the parts of traditionalists, at least for now. Maybe the arrangement had started in fantasy, but now they had to make it seem real. Chloe especially would have her work cut out for her.

  He mulled this over as he went to meet with Matek and the rest of his small council of advisors. He gave his blessing to the menu for a state dinner, signed a number of documents, and thought of Chloe. The minutes slipped by, until the grit in his eyes alerted him to the late hour.

  Back in his rooms, he padded down to Chloe’s door. The lamp on the bedside table cast a warm glow over the bed where she slept curled around a book, her engagement ring twinkling.

  Kishon breathed out a sigh. A part of him worried for her. She was good with people, so she should be able to charm the elders. But it was on Kishon to appear every inch the powerful, traditional leader. He couldn’t be the man she’d met in the bar—not entirely.

  He turned off her lamp and pulled the blankets over her, then went to toss and turn in his own bed.

  “An engagement,” Qamar said. “Has it been long planned?”

  The leader of the elders faced Kishon over the round table in the council room. Kishon kept his smile easy, his face relaxed. “Not particularly long, no. But she’s a match for me.”

  The other men shifted in their seats, barely disguising their disapproval.

  “Another American in the palace…” Zehab said this as if he’d just now been thinking about it. “Is that what’s best for Hamari?”

  “It’s what’s best for me.” Kishon stood. “If there are no other questions, I’d like to introduce her.”

  Qamar looked like he had several questions, one being what were you thinking, Sheikh Kishon?, but he only nodded his head.

  Kishon went to the door and ushered Chloe in. He’d given her a crash course in the elders this morning, and she looked gorgeous—she wore a floor-length white dress embroidered with vines and leaves in a shimmering navy. Her eyes sparkled with confidence, and Kishon’s stomach went cold with nerves. He’d been cavalier about the elders in past conversations with his brother, but for the life of him, he couldn’t summon that attitude now.

  He guided her to the table and opened his mouth to introduce her.

  “Hello, council members,” Chloe said with a wave that Kishon found utterly charming. “I’m Chloe Sanderson, Kishon’s—Sheikh Kishon’s—fiancée. It’s a real pleasure to be here, meeting you.” And then, to Kishon’s horror, she leaned across the table, hand extended for them to shake.

  Qamar looked stricken. The elders occupied an almost sacred position in the royal household. Touching them simply wasn’t done.

  Chloe’s hand wavered in the air, and a fresh heat rose to Kishon�
�s cheeks. It hadn’t even occurred to him in his lessons this morning to mention this bit of tradition. Teaching traditions had always been Chakir’s job. It wasn’t Kishon’s strong suit.

  She dropped her hand to the front of her dress and clasped it there. If she felt awkward, she didn’t show it, and awe crashed over Kishon like a tidal wave.

  “—galleries,” she was saying. “Are there particular styles of art that Hamari is known for? If there are any collections I should see, I’d appreciate a recommendation.” She gave them a dazzling smile.

  There was a general shuffling at the council table. “Perhaps you should introduce her to the palace galleries, Sheikh Kishon. It is clear she knows very little about our country.”

  That struck Kishon as more than a little unfair and highly judgmental.

  “Who could know everything about a country as wonderful as Hamari? I only thought it would be best to start with its best feature.” She winked.

  She actually winked at them, and Kishon couldn’t breathe.

  Zehab, a notoriously fussy member of the council, let out a laugh, and oxygen flooded Kishon’s lungs. “We are an impressive group.”

  The conversation continued, Chloe at the center. Kishon put a hand on the small of her back, which was as affectionate as he dared to be in front of the elders, and basked in the pride that filled his chest.

  There might be hope for this fake engagement yet.

  7

  The entrance to the national gardens was a sprawling version of the palace gardens and a centerpiece of the city. Chloe couldn’t wait to step through the gates. Kishon, on the other hand, scanned his phone screen, absorbed.

  “Where to first?” she asked. “Or are we just wandering?”

  Chloe stifled the urge to bounce on the balls of her feet. Her hands itched to start sketching. That was her plan—see the city with Kishon, sketch a few of the places that called to her, and then decide which ones to return to for longer painting sessions. For now, she’d only brought her sketchbook and pencil kit in a soft leather backpack, which had cost a small fortune in Dubai.