The Sheikh's Stolen Lover - A Second Chance Sweet Romance (The Sheikh's New Bride Book 5)

by Holly Rayner

  “It hangs on the wall.”

  “My house is smaller than yours, actually. I don’t have as many walls.”

  He laughed. “No, actually, I was considering this for me.”

  “Oh.” She changed tack immediately. “You should get it.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “It’s gorgeous. Where would you put it?”

  “In my room. Sunsets make me think of my father.”

  She was quiet for a moment. Then, “You should definitely get it.”

  He nodded and handed it to the vendor to wrap up.

  Back at the palace, they took a slow walk to the water garden.

  Ellie stared around in wonder at the stone-lined ponds and fountains filled with crystalline water. “We’re still in the desert, right?”

  “These are manufactured,” Mahmoud said.

  “Obviously. I know they are. But the water doesn’t look stagnant at all. It’s like a river just flowed in here.”

  “The groundskeepers take good care of it,” Mahmoud said, perching on the bench that formed the edge of one of the fountains and gesturing that Ellie should join him. After a slight hesitation, she did so. “I spent a lot of time here in the years after college.”

  “What about the years before?”

  “As a kid I didn’t appreciate it, I think,” he said. “Water came out of the taps in my bathroom, and that was nothing special, so why was it special here? But when I came back from California, I’d seen the…the potential of water. The vastness of the Pacific. Do you remember when you saw the ocean for the first time?”

  “No,” Ellie said. “I grew up in California.”

  “Ah.”

  “But I remember seeing your palace for the first time,” she said, her mouth twisting into something that might have been amusement. “Maybe something like that.”

  “Is my home really so intimidating?”

  She laughed. It wasn’t her usual wry laugh, it was the hearty laugh he remembered from the night they’d first met. It was unguarded. He felt warm, suddenly.

  “Have you seen this place? This is the biggest private residence I’ve ever seen,” she responded.

  “But is that a bad thing?”

  She thought about it. “I don’t know. It doesn’t exactly put people at ease, you know? It’s very hard to relax in a place like this if it’s not what you’re used to. Servants are always popping in at weird times to do things I’m not expecting, and like, I don’t have any servants. I put my own napkin on my lap at home.”

  He laughed. “That is a bit excessive. I’ve certainly never told any of them to do that.”

  “They do it, though.”

  “It must have been started by a previous sheikh.”

  “Why don’t you stop it?”

  “Because it’s how things are done. It’s tradition.”

  “You can’t just do things because that’s how they’re done. You need a better reason than that.”

  “I’m not sure you understand the importance of tradition,” Mahmoud said.

  “I have traditions,” Ellie argued. “I celebrate holidays with my family.”

  “Okay. You have traditions. But without them, what would you be?”

  “The same, basically.”

  “Right. But that isn’t the case for us, Ellie. Al Fahad is still a new nation, compared to some. We’re still working to establish our identity. Think about…” He thought for a moment. “Think about the arguments people used to have at school over the Founding Father and what their true vision for the country was. Think how heated people got about those arguments, how unwilling they were to go against what they believed the Founding Fathers would have wanted.”

  “Okay?”

  “Now imagine you’re a Founding Father.”

  She got it. “Oh.”

  “Things like letting the servants put the napkins on our laps… I realize they’re inconsequential, really. But every little thing I do sets a tone for the future of this country.”

  “Doesn’t that excite you, though?” she asked. “You can make this place whatever you want it to be. You could… God, I think of all the terrible things in America’s history, and you have the power to avoid mistakes like that. For me, they were part of my country’s DNA before I was born, but for you…”

  “For me, I might not see them coming and inadvertently cause them,” he said.

  “I see.”

  “Anyway, the palace… I know it’s a lot,” he said. “I know it’s opulent, and Al Fahad is… We’re well off, as a nation, but we do have poor people, of course. I do my best to help. But the whole nation rallies around the idea that their sheikh lives in the palace. It’s a part of who we are.”

  “Maybe I can’t understand it,” Ellie said.

  “Maybe not.”

  “But I’m trying to,” she said.

  He saw that she truly was trying. “Thank you.”

  “And it is a nice place,” she conceded. “I do like it here.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  “You act…”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. You’re distant, much of the time. You hold yourself apart. Like today, at the market. You seemed almost offended when I tried to buy you that bracelet. Why did that bother you so much? I was just trying to do a nice thing.”

  “We don’t really need to go over that again,” Ellie said. “Do we?”

  “I’d like to understand…”

  She got to her feet suddenly. “I’m tired. I think I’d like to go to bed early tonight.”

  He rose alongside her. “But what about dinner? We haven’t eaten.”

  “Can I have it sent to my room?”

  “Of course you can, if that’s what you want…”

  “It is. Thank you.”

  “I’ll ring for Keziah to…”

  “No need. I know the way,” she said, and took off running before Mahmoud had the chance to say another word. He stared after her, utterly puzzled. Why did she keep pulling away, and what could he do to convince her to stay?

  Chapter 20

  Ellie

  To her intense relief, Ellie didn’t encounter any servants between the water garden and the door to her suite. The last thing she wanted was to have to come up with some excuse for why she’d bolted away from Mahmoud like her feet were on fire.

  She knew she was behaving strangely. Mahmoud must find her so weird.

  Why did he have to be so clever? So charming? She didn’t want to be suckered into liking him by these little gestures.

  Frustrated, she unclasped the bracelet—it really was pretty—and dropped it on her desk. Did he think he could buy his way into her good graces, after everything? After kidnapping her at the airport in what had been one of the most frightening episodes of her life? After making her miss her flight home, so she would have no choice but to explain an awkward and embarrassing absence to employers who were already irritated with her?

  After leaving her alone at a bar in Palo Alto?

  Even more frustrating was that it seemed to be working.

  Not the gifts. Ellie liked her new clothes, of course, and the bracelet was lovely, but accepting them didn’t mean she had to like Mahmoud.

  No, it was the little things that were starting to win her over. The stories he’d told her about his childhood. The way he’d opened up tonight, expressing vulnerability and fear about the pressures of running a young country. He wasn’t just a thoughtless ruler, callously throwing money around. He spent lavishly because it was all he’d ever known. Of course he’d never learned to be frugal; why would he? But it didn’t reflect a lack of character, she thought. He was a good, thoughtful, man.

  A good, thoughtful, attractive man…

  Ellie groaned aloud, throwing herself back onto her bed. That was a whole other problem. Everything she’d found handsome about him five years ago, when she’d met him as Bahir, was still there, and much of it had only gotten bett
er with age. The five o’clock shadow of college was a well-kept beard now, and although she’d never been attracted to a bearded man back home, there was something about Mahmoud’s that she liked. He kept it neatly trimmed, and it was very distinguished looking.

  He’d gained some wrinkles around the eyes. She hadn’t been able to put her finger on it right away, but his eyes were so evocative, so hard to look away from, and after a couple of days of trying not to stare, she’d figured out what was making him look so cheerful all the time. Her mother had told her once to smile more so the lines in her face would be smile lines when she was old. Mahmoud must have done that.

  Which meant he was a happy person.

  Which made him more attractive.

  This was going to be a problem.

  He’s the Sheikh, she reminded herself firmly as Keziah wheeled dinner in to her suite. He probably has to marry somebody royal. He’s definitely not allowed to date. And even if he was, he wouldn’t want to date random California girls. And even if he did, he already made it really clear he doesn’t want you.

  But then why had he kidnapped her and brought her here?

  To reconnect.

  Reconnect to what, though? They hadn’t been friends in college. They had known each other for a few hours. What was this really about?

  “Where would you like it, ma’am?” Keziah asked.

  “The balcony, please.” She ducked into the bathroom and changed into her robe. When she emerged, Keziah was gone.

  Ellie checked the door. Locked, with the deadbolt thrown. Good. No chance of a Sheikh walking in on her this time!

  She sat on the edge of the pool and dangled her feet in the water. She should contact the office again, she thought, and make sure everything was all right. Let them know how things were going over here. But, of course, the first thing they would ask would be whether she’d managed to sell the Sheikh on investing in Noralli, and the two of them hadn’t even discussed her app. Maybe she’d wait a few more days to call.

  To distract herself from her worries, she looked out at the view. She’d taken in the lights of the city, but now she looked out in the other direction. Rolling dunes stretched out as far as the eye could see. It was an unfamiliar landscape, but as Ellie studied it, she decided it was beautiful. The sand disappeared into the setting sun in much the same way the ocean did. The dunes resembled waves. I could get used to this, she thought. I could live here.

  Immediately she shook off the thought. She was getting carried away.

  She shrugged off her robe and slid into the pool, swimming a few laps to clear her head. The familiar, repetitive motions helped, and by the time she swam up to her dinner plate, she felt relaxed.

  Tonight’s meal was a delicious-smelling stew. Ellie saw chunks of steak, onions, carrots, lima beans, and potatoes. The stew was thick and smelled of garlic and cinnamon, and it had been plated alongside a helping of white rice. On a separate plate were two halves of pita bread and a ramekin that, on inspection, turned out to contain an oil and vinegar mix.

  The food settled quickly, quashing Ellie’s worries about work and her escalating relationship with the Sheikh. Tired, she lay back in the pool, floating and staring at the stars. You can see so many stars from here, she thought. The San Francisco sky is practically empty compared with this. It’s like a painting.

  She was lucky to be here, she realized. This was an experience most people would never have as long as they lived. What did it matter, really, if she had a little harmless crush on Mahmoud? What did it matter if he thought he could win her over by buying her pretty things? The point of it all was that tonight she was a guest in a beautiful palace, and tomorrow she would be experiencing more amazing things that, by all rights, should never have touched her average American life.

  What was there to complain about?

  Chapter 21

  Mahmoud

  “Your Highness. Saad Kassab is on the phone for you,” said the valet, holding out a cellphone.

  Mahmoud accepted it, nodding his thanks at the valet. “Saad? What is it?” His old friend had broken the habit of calling him directly when he’d become Sheikh, of course, but even a call routed through his servants was a rare occurrence. It was as if Saad wanted to move on from their friendship altogether. And now he was calling late at night. Could something be wrong?

  Saad sounded stressed. “Your Highness. We have to decide what app to invest in this quarter. Have you had a chance to review them?”

  “Have I…? Saad. You know I don’t work there anymore, don’t you?”

  “Well, I just thought…”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think. I’m not in charge.”

  “I know,” Saad admitted, “but I can’t make a decision.”

  “What are you considering?”

  “The fitness one.”

  “Do you know how many fitness apps there are right now? The market is flooded. What makes this one special?”

  “Your avatar is a bear.”

  “What in the world does a bear have to do with fitness?”

  “Um…”

  “They sleep three months out of the year. That’s the opposite of fitness.”

  “Maybe it’s supposed to be ironic.”

  “Irony doesn’t work if you don’t even know if it’s supposed to be ironic. What else?”

  “There’s one that lets you splice your headshot into famous works of art. You could be the face of a famous sculpture or painting.”

  “Cute, but limited.”

  “I agree,” Saad said. “The others liked that one. I didn’t.”

  “What do you like? You have good instincts.”

  “I like the financial app that’s paired with the game.”

  “Oh,” Mahmoud remembered. “I actually tried that one. I liked the dinosaur.”

  “The financial side is pretty good too. There are plenty of financial apps out there, of course, but this one’s more user-friendly than any I’ve seen, and the trick of pairing it with a game is inspired.”

  “There’s also growth potential,” Mahmoud said. “ If the developers come up with another game, they could tie that one to their financial app too.”

  “Should we go with that one?”

  “You should go with whatever you want, Saad. You’re in charge.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “But,” Mahmoud added, “I think you’re on the right track.”

  He could practically hear Saad’s smile. “Thanks, Mahmoud.”

  Hearing his first name again from his best friend after all this time was like a hug from his father. It warmed him from the inside out. “I’ve missed this. You can call again, you know.”

  “Really? Are you sure?”

  “Anytime.”

  Chapter 22

  Ellie

  Over the next few days, Ellie and Mahmoud explored the country together. She wouldn’t have expected such rich cultural offerings from such a small country, and she was surprised at every turn. They visited galleries stuffed with precious works of art, they got lost together in the old town, though Ellie suspected that Mahmoud knew the winding passageways of his childhood like the back of his hand, and only humored her disastrous attempts at steering them back the way they had come.

  They visited the technology museum, which dated back to the ’80s, when Al Fahad had apparently been largely invested in video games. Ellie played an arcade-style game while Mahmoud looked on. The museum had been emptied for their visit and no one was in line behind them, so Ellie restarted the game again and again, trying to impress her host. Before she knew it, forty-five minutes had gone by.

  On the third night, they went to the opera—Ellie wore a bright blue dress with gold trim and a scarf draped over her head—and out for a hot drink afterward that was too strong to be tea but wasn’t quite coffee. They sat sipping their drinks on a park bench, and Mahmoud slipped his jacket around Ellie’s shoulders, despite the warmth of the night air. It was a magical feeling.

 
The next night, Ellie insisted on dismissing the servants and preparing dinner herself. “We’ve been immersed in your culture all week,” she said. “Isn’t it time I got to show you some of mine?”

  Mahmoud smiled indulgently. “Ellie, I lived in America for four years. I’ve had hamburgers.”

  “Not hamburgers. I’m talking about my cultural heritage.”

  “What?”

  “My family’s Swedish. Let me make you meatballs.”

  She did have to involve his servants in the end. She wrote a list of ingredients for Keziah, who went off to the market to buy everything. Ellie would have gone herself, but it was so much trouble to get the whole armed guard together. And, she had to admit, there was something nice about getting out of her afternoon shower and finding all the ingredients laid out for her on the kitchen counter.

  Mahmoud came in. He was wearing a T-shirt with the logo of a popular app on it, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Where did you get that?”

  “At a conference a few years ago. They were giving them away.”

  “You look ridiculous.”

  He looked down at himself. “Do I?”

  “I just never thought of you as a T-shirt guy.”

  “I don’t own many of them,” he agreed. “What are we doing in here?”

  “Making meatballs. My grandmother’s recipe. Can you get me a mixing bowl?”

  Mahmoud went to the cupboard and clattered around a little. “I was in Sweden once.”

  “You were? I’ve never been.”

  “Not even to see your grandmother?”

  Ellie laughed. “My grandmother lived in Tucson.”

  “Oh.”

  “What were you doing in Sweden?”

  “Discussing our potential as a trading partner.” He set a bowl down on the counter beside her. “Here you go.”

  Ellie stared. “Mahmoud. That’s a cereal bowl.”

  “It is?”

  “Don’t you know what a mixing bowl is?”

  “Well…”