by Lucy Monroe
When the Sheikh comes to town…
Sheikh Sayed of Zeena Sarha and his harem of beautiful women are staying at the exclusive, opulent Chatsfield Hotel, London, for the last stop on his worldwide tour before his wedding. But when his engagement is unceremoniously broken, Sayed sets his sights on his sexy chambermaid!
Liyah Amari only took the position as chambermaid to find the truth about her birth father. But her search ends in heartache, leaving Liyah vulnerable to this powerful Sheikh’s desires. Now their one night of passion could result in a scandalous consequence for the proud Sheikh!
Welcome to The Chatsfield, London!
“I need to return to Zeena Sahra. The cancellation of my engagement will have long-reaching consequences for our country.”
Feeling unaccountably bereft at the thought of Sayed’s abandonment, Liyah nevertheless nodded. “I understand.”
“Good. It is unfortunate you will not be able to work out your notice, but it is fortuitous that you already made your plans to leave.”
“What? Why won’t I work out my notice?”
“I’ve told you, we must leave for Zeena Sahra immediately.”
“You said you had to leave.”
He gave her a look that said she wasn’t following him. “Naturally you must come with me.”
“Why?”
“You may carry my child.”
“But we don’t know that.”
“And until we do, you stay with me.”
Step into the opulent glory of the world’s most elite hotel, where the clients are the impossibly rich and exceptionally famous.
Whether you’re in America, Australia, Europe or Dubai our doors will always be open…
Welcome to
The Chatsfield
Synonymous with style, sensation…and scandal!
For years, the children of Gene Chatsfield—global hotel entrepreneur—have shocked the world’s media with their exploits. But no longer! When Gene appoints a new CEO, Christos Giatrakos, to bring his children into line, little does he know what he is starting.
Christos’s first command scatters the Chatsfields to the farthest reaches of their international holdings—from Las Vegas to Monte Carlo, Sydney to San Francisco…. But will they rise to the challenge set by a man who hides dark secrets in his past?
Let the games begin!
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The Chatsfield
Sheikh’s Scandal Lucy Monroe
Playboy’s Lesson Melanie Milburne
Socialite’s Gamble Michelle Conder
Billionaire’s Secret Chantelle Shaw
Tycoon’s Temptation Trish Morey
Rival’s Challenge Abby Green
Rebel’s Bargain Annie West
Heiress’s Defiance Lynn Raye Harris
Eight volumes to collect—you won’t want to miss out!
LUCY MONROE
Sheikh’s Scandal
All about the author…Lucy Monroe
Award-winning and bestselling author Lucy Monroe sold her first book in September 2002 to the Harlequin Presents® line. That book represented a dream that had been burning in her heart for years—the dream to share her stories with readers who love romance as much as she does. Since then she has sold more than thirty books to three publishers and hit national bestseller lists in the U.S. and England, but what has touched her most deeply since selling that first book are the reader letters she receives. Her most important goal with every book is to touch a reader’s heart, and when she hears she’s done that it makes every night spent writing into the wee hours of the morning worth it.
She started reading Harlequin Presents® books when she was very young and discovered a heroic type of man between the covers of those books…an honorable man, capable of faithfulness and sacrifice for the people he loves. Now married to what she terms her “alpha male at the end of a book,” Lucy believes there is a lot more reality to the fantasy stories she writes than most people give credit for. She believes in happy endings that are really marvelous beginnings, and that’s why she writes them. She hopes her books help readers to believe a little, too…just as romance did for her so many years ago.
She really does love to hear from readers and responds to every email. You can reach her by emailing [email protected].
Other titles by Lucy Monroe available in ebook:
MILLION DOLLAR CHRISTMAS SURPRISE
PRINCE OF SECRETS (By His Royal Decree)
ONE NIGHT HEIR (By His Royal Decree)
NOT JUST THE GREEK’S WIFE
For my editor, Suzanne Clarke. It’s always a little bit terrifying changing editors, but you’ve made it a really lovely experience and I’m thrilled how well our creative visions mesh. I’m also delighted to find we are kindred spirits in other areas. I feel as if we’re a destined team. Thank you!
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SNEAK PEEK
CHATSFIELD AUTHOR Q&A
CHATSFIELD CHARACTER Q&A
DESIGNING A ROYAL WARDROBE
CHAPTER ONE
NOT EASILY IMPRESSED, Liyah Amari very nearly stopped to gawp upon entering the Chatsfield London for the first time.
Flagship of the Chatsfield family’s hotel empire, the lodging preferred by Europe’s elite was magnificent.
San Francisco’s property where her mother had worked since before Liyah’s birth was beautiful, but nothing compared to the opulence of this hotel. From the liveried doormen to the grandeur of the ballroom-size lobby, she felt as if she’d stepped into a bygone era of luxury.
A decidedly frenetic air of anticipation and preparation was at odds with the elegant surroundings, though. One maid rushed through the lobby—which Liyah was certain was anything but a normal occurrence—while another polished the walnut banisters of the grand staircase.
It looked like an impromptu but serious meeting was happening near the concierge desk. The desk reception staff were busy with the phone and computer, respectively, checking in an attractive elderly couple.
“Welcome to the Chatsfield London, Mr. and Mrs. Michaels. Here is your room key,” the young man said, “and here is your complimentary hospitality pack. We very much hope that you enjoy your stay.”
Both staff were too busy to pay attention to who might be entering the hotel. Behind reception, Liyah saw a row of photographs depicting the Chatsfield London’s staff. Something in her chest tightened as she caught the image of Lucilla Chatsfield staring back at her from within a frame.
One of the Chatsfield siblings Liyah admired and wished she could get to know, Lucilla was too far up the hotel’s ranks for that to ever be likely.
A noise from behind her dragged her attention to where maintenance was replacing a bulb in the giant chandelier that cast the saffron walls with an elegant glow. Ecru moldings and columns added a tasteful but subtly lavish touch and the faint but lingering smell of fresh paint indicated they’d had a recent tidying up.
Liyah’s sensible shoes made no noise as she crossed the black-and-white marble-tiled floor, heading directly for the elevator as she’d be
en instructed to do.
A man stepped in front of her. “May I help you find someone?”
His tone and expression were polite, but it had to be obvious to him that Liyah in her well-fitting but conservative black gabardine suit was not a guest at the Chatsfield.
“I have an appointment with Mrs. Miller.” As was her usual habit, Liyah was fifteen minutes early for her meeting with the senior housekeeper.
The man’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you must be the maid from Zeena Sahra.”
No. That had been her mother. “I am familiar with Zeena Sahran culture, but I was born in America.”
Liyah had been hired as a floor supervising chambermaid on the presidential level with special concierge services, just below the hotel’s penthouse suites. With hospitality as well as housekeeping duties, she would be working in tandem with the concierge team in a new initiative designed to increase customer satisfaction.
It would be a much more satisfying job for Liyah than the one her mother had held for almost three decades and Hena would have approved wholeheartedly.
“Yes, of course. The elevator is right this way.” The man started walking. “I will have to key your access to the basement level.”
“Thank you.”
Liyah was still a few minutes early when she knocked on the senior housekeeper’s office door.
“Enter,” came from within.
Mrs. Miller was a tall, thin woman who wore a more severe version of Liyah’s suit with a starched white blouse buttoned all the way up.
“I’m pleased you are here, Miss Amari, but I hope you’ve come prepared to begin work immediately,” she said after the pleasantries were out of the way.
“Yes, of course.”
“Good. Your concierge floor has been booked for the sheikh’s harem.” Mrs. Miller gave a disdainful sniff with the word harem.
“Excuse me? A sheikh from Zeena Sahra is coming to stay?” And he needed an entire floor for his harem?
No wonder they’d wanted to transfer her mother from the Chatsfield San Francisco.
“Yes, Sheikh bin Falah will be staying with us for two weeks. His fiancée will be joining him for the second one.”
Liyah schooled the shock from her features. “Sheikh al Zeena, or Sheikh bin Falah al Zeena, but he would not be referred to as Sheikh bin Falah. To do so would cause offence.”
Liyah wasn’t sure about correcting her boss, but she assumed this sort of knowledge was why she’d been hired.
At least now she understood the need for her expertise. Not just a tribal sheikh but the crown prince of Zeena Sahra was coming to stay at the Chatsfield London.
Probably the single most gorgeous man alive, he could easily be an international playboy with a string of supermodels hanging on his arm. However, he had a reputation for being buttoned-down and focused entirely on his duties as emir of Zeena Sahra.
“I see. I’ll make a note of it. I presume addressing him as Your Highness is acceptable.”
“It is, though from what I have read, since Zeena Sahra is an emirate, he prefers the title of emir.”
Mrs. Miller’s mouth pursed. “Why didn’t we know this?”
“It’s a small thing, really.”
“No,” Mrs. Miller said sharply. “There’s nothing small about this visit from the sheikh. Every detail must be seen to with absolute attention. If not, mistakes happen. Only last week someone wanted to send silk napkins to the Chatsfield Preitalle with the inscription ‘Princess Maddie.’ Can you believe it? For a royal wedding? This is why each detail must be perfect.”
“I will do my best.”
“Yes. In addition to your usual duties, for the duration of the sheikh’s visit, you will also personally oversee the housekeeping staff for his suite and the adjoining rooms for his security people.”
Nothing like being thrown in at the deep end, but Liyah didn’t mind. She thrived on a challenge.
Nevertheless, it was a good thing Liyah had gotten her degree in hospitality management. It didn’t hurt either that she’d cleaned rooms at the Chatsfield San Francisco every summer break through high school and college, not that her mother had encouraged Liyah to make her career there.
Quite the opposite, Hena had been adamant that her daughter not work for the Chatsfield. And now that she knew what she did, maybe Liyah understood that better.
After a somewhat harried orientation, during which staff members she met asked as many questions of Liyah about Zeena Sahra as she asked them about the Chatsfield London, she returned to her newly rented bedsit.
About the size of a college dorm room with an efficiency kitchen and miniscule bath tacked on, it was a far cry from the two-bedroom apartment with a balcony she’d shared with her mother in San Francisco. An apartment she’d been only too happy to move out of when she got the floor supervisory position with the Chatsfield London.
The job offer was a brilliant coincidence that Liyah’s mother would have called destiny. But then Hena Amari had had a romantic streak her daughter did not share.
Although her outlook on life was decidedly more pragmatic, once Liyah had seen the contents of her mother’s safety-deposit box and read Hena’s final letter, she’d known she had to come to England.
The new job had allowed her to do so without dipping too deeply into what was left from the proceeds of her mother’s life insurance policy. The money had been welcome if entirely unexpected. The policy had been one of the many profound shocks Liyah had found in that safety-deposit box.
Shocks that had ultimately ended with her working for the Chatsfield London.
The hotel had been looking specifically for someone with knowledge of Zeena Sahran culture and hospitality norms. Ironically, they had contacted the San Francisco property’s senior housekeeper, Stephanie Carter, in hopes of transferring Hena Amari.
With Hena’s sudden death, Stephanie, knowing about Liyah, had suggested her instead. Even though Liyah had not worked for the Chatsfield San Francisco since the summer before her last year of university, her education and experience had made her uniquely eligible for a newly created position.
The irony that a job with the hotel would make it possible for her daughter to fulfill Hena’s final wish was not lost on Liyah.
Liyah did not resent her mother’s silence on any front, but only superb emotional control had allowed her to take one stunning revelation after another without cracking.
On the outside.
The most stunning revelation of all had been that the extremely wealthy English hotelier Gene Chatsfield was Liyah’s biological father.
After years of seeing the exploits of his legitimate children in the tabloid press, Liyah found it nearly impossible to believe his blood ran through her veins. What did she, a woman who had worked hard for everything she had, have in common with this notorious, spoiled family?
She had an almost morbid curiosity to discover what kind of man raised his children to be so profligate while sending the most meager of stipends to Hena on Liyah’s behalf.
The answer might lie in the very fact of Liyah’s existence, the result of Gene’s indulgence in numerous affairs with his hotel maids. Affairs that did not make it into the press.
Hena hadn’t known about the hotelier’s wife, much less his propensity for seducing the chambermaids, until after he left San Francisco and a pregnant Hena behind. It had all been in the final letter Hena had left Liyah.
She’d never told another soul the identity of Liyah’s father. Hena’s shame in the fact he’d been a married man colored the rest of her life and yet she’d written in her letter that Liyah needed to forgive him.
Hena had claimed that Gene Chatsfield was not a villain, not a demon, not even a very bad man. But he had been a man going through a very bad time. Her final request had been for Liyah to come to London and make herself known to her father.
Liyah would respect her mother’s last wishes, but she was happy to have the opportunity to observe the man incognito—as an employee, not th
e daughter he’d never acknowledged.
*
Her uniform crisp, her long black hair caught in an impeccable bun, Liyah stood tucked away in a nook near the grand staircase. She’d been in London two weeks and working at the Chatsfield ten hectic days, but had yet to catch a glimpse of her father.
Word had come down that the Honorable Sheikh Sayed bin Falah al Zeena was arriving today, though. Liyah had no doubts her father would be on hand to greet the sheikh personally.
One thing that had become patently obvious in the past ten days: the sheikh’s stay was incredibly important to the hotel, and even more significant to the Chatsfield’s proprietor.
Apparently, in another ironic twist of fate, Gene Chatsfield currently resided in the Chatsfield New York, leaving his new and highly acclaimed CEO, Christos Giatrakos, alone to handle operations from London. However, Gene Chatsfield’s arrival in London to personally oversee the emir’s visit said it all.
Knowing how key this high-profile guest’s stay was to her father, Liyah was determined to do her job well. When she made herself known to Gene, there would be nothing to disappoint him in her work ethic.
Her floor was in impeccable order, each of the rooms to be occupied garnished with a crystal bowl of fruit and a vase of fragrant jasmine. She’d arranged for a screen to be placed at the elevator bank on her floor, as well, effectively blocking the harem quarters from curious looks.
She’d made sure the sheikh’s suite was similarly taken care of. There was nothing to offend and a great deal to appreciate in her setup of his rooms and the floor below.
Thoughts of her work faded as an older man walked with supreme confidence across the lobby. His air that of a man who owned all he surveyed, he acknowledged the numerous greetings by his employees with a regal tip of his head. Her father.
Stopping in front of the reception desk, he was clearly prepared to welcome the sheikh upon arrival.
Gray hair shot with silver, his blue eyes were still clear, his six-foot-one frame just slightly stooped. Garbed in a perfectly tailored Pierre Cardin suit, his shoes no doubt handmade, he looked like a man who would fit right in with the fabulously wealthy people his hotel catered to.
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