The Sheikh's Million Dollar Bride

by Clare Connelly

  “But now?”

  Syed expelled an angry breath. That Sarah wanted him for his fortune was almost a completely ridiculous notion.

  But Zahir was not going to rest. “Why do you think she’s your bride? This woman you would bring home and introduce to father? He’s one shock away from a heart attack and you want to show him this … this … cheap whore installed in our palace?”

  “Do not speak of her in this manner.” Syed squeezed his hands into fists by his side, his whole body tense. “You know nothing of what binds us.”

  “I know that you are a prince, and she a pauper. I know that you have elevated her to a luxury and lifestyle that is beyond her wild imaginings.”

  “And yet I am the one who has profited,” Syed interjected angrily. “You think she is using me for my power and money? You are wrong, Zahir. It is I who used her. I used my money, my power, everything I could, to bring her into my life and make her marry me.” A bleakness began to slip into his being as the confession wrapped around him. Somehow, speaking the truth of his deeds aloud shook him, as though it was a true acknowledgement, finally, of how dreadful his behaviour had been.

  “I couldn’t let her go,” Syed said slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “These five years, without her, her absence: it has tormented me. I could not walk away from her again. Not this time. And I could not let her walk away from me, either.”

  Zahir compressed his lips, his expression tight. “Yet you must.”

  Syed shook his head impatiently. “You don’t understand. You ask me why she’s my wife? My bride?” Darkness stirred through him and he took a step backwards as it infiltrated his soul. “Because I forced her. I made it impossible for her not to be. I used what I could to join her to me, because I know that I need her.” He spun away from Zahir, his heart pounding, his brow threaded with the hint of perspiration.

  “I disregarded what she needed, because I knew what I needed.” His eyes closed briefly on the realisation of exactly what he’d done; how he’d bullied her, and regret laced his insides together. “I don’t know if I even cared what was best for her,” he said finally, the words dripping with self-recrimination.

  Sarah was no mercenary.

  It was he, Syed, who’d reduced them to a financial transaction. Not once, but twice. Sarah had wanted him the moment he’d turned up back on her doorstep. She’d fought it, but she’d wanted him as much as ever. Was that just lust?

  I love you so much. The memory of the first time she’d said those words flashed into his mind almost robbing him of breath. Would she ever feel that again? Even after he’d used Lexi and the promise of a richer future for the little girl to convince Sarah to marry him?

  “The reasons for your marriage don’t matter to me,” Zahir said finally, the words even and cold. “You must end it, for all our sakes.”

  *

  It was almost midnight when the door pushed inwards. Sarah, reading in an armchair, looked up from the shadows in time to see Syed walk into the room. He looked different somehow. Dishevelled. His hair in disarray, his suit undone at the collar.

  She shrugged out of the jacket and discarded it carelessly on the back of a chair, then he paced towards the windows. He wore such a look of concern on his handsome features that worry wrapped around her.

  “What is it? Has something happened?”

  He startled visibly, his surprise obvious. “Why are you still awake?” He dropped his eyes to hers and they were darkened by emotions she didn’t understand.

  “I … you didn’t arrive for dinner and I …” was worried. She cringed at the admission, for it said too much about her heart.

  “I saw my brother today,” he said quietly, returning his gaze to the twinkling vision of Manhattan.

  “Zahir?” She prompted with surprise. Her heart turned over in her chest at all the possibilities this could lead to.

  “Yes, najin.” He expelled a sigh.

  “Is it your father?” She stood, wrapping her arms around his waist, sending strength into his body with her own. “Is he okay?”

  Syed’s laugh lacked humour. “Only you could care so deeply for me even now,” he said with a small shake of his head. “My father’s condition is unchanged.”

  “Oh, I’m glad.” She stroked his back gently. “So what is it? Is this because of us?”

  “Us?” Syed reached down and detached her hands from his body and then he looked at her with a chilling degree of remoteness. “How can there be an ‘us’?”

  Sarah froze, every bone in her body warning her of impending danger. “Well, we’re married, remember…”

  “Yes. A marriage that should never have happened.” It was a bleak statement. He let the words hang in the air a moment and when he next spoke it was with an air of businesslike efficiency. “Tell me something, Sarah.”

  Her frown showed the indecision that was wrapping around her, but she nodded, waiting, knowing she would tell him anything.

  “You have no money.”

  Her cheeks coloured at his brutal description of her situation.

  “And yet your rent is low and you work long hours. Why can you not make ends meet?”

  “Oh.” Sarah’s eyes swept shut and when she opened them, a ghost of a smile passed her lips. But it was not a smile of happiness, so much as recognition. “I… it’s a long story.”

  “And yet, I think it is one I should have heard sooner. Tell me.”

  She nodded jerkily, her eyes following his, chasing the lights of the city, far beneath them. After a moment, she nodded. “It’s not a secret.”

  “Tell me,” he said again, his body as still as steel.

  “My sister, Cameron,” Sarah said, so softly it was almost a whisper. “We had a credit card – a joint credit card. I stopped using it years ago; in truth, I forgot we even had the account. But she used it. And he used it. And, when they died, I was signed up for a heap of debt.”

  He nodded, a muscle jerking in his cheek. “How much?”

  Sarah’s face blushed. “Ten thousand dollars. I know that probably seems like a pittance to you…”

  “But to you it was the world,” he expelled softly. “And you would do anything to clear the debt, yes?”

  “I… what do you mean?”

  His eyes slid to hers for a moment, and something strong and heavy pulsed between them, before he shook his head and spoke, the words almost totally devoid of emotion.

  “I realise how unfair it is to Lexi for me to change your circumstances again. I will return to Kalastan and leave this apartment to you. It will be transferred to your name and I’ll continue to care for the running of the household expenses. You’ll have credit cards you may use. You will never have to worry about money.”

  His throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he didn’t look at her. “You may continue to use my name and your title – to ensure Lexi gets into the best schools in Manhattan. I am … sorry for the disruption I’ve caused you.”

  Sarah was silent. Not out of choice but because none of it made any sense. “What the hell,” she muttered after several heavy, confused moments had passed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He stepped away from her, moving towards the kitchen. He lifted the lid off a crystal decanter and sloshed some scotch into a tumbler then threw it back, and recharged his glass.

  “Syed? What’s happened? Is this because of your brother?”

  “Yes,” he said simply. And now his eyes did meet hers.

  “So yet again your family issues their disapproval and you pack up and leave?” She asked angrily. “I can’t believe I fell for this again.”

  “No, it isn’t like that,” he denied, expelling an angry breath. “Speaking with Zahir made me comprehend just what I have done, that’s all.”

  “And he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like me.”

  “It’s not about him!” Syed responded emphatically. “It’s about me. The decisions I’ve made. The justifications I offered myself.” His voice was b
leak. “I told myself that the end was justified by these means. That once you were my wife, we would be fine. That you would love me again one day and I could have a second chance to make you happy.”

  Sarah didn’t want to tell him that she was already far happier than she’d been in a very long time. “But it’s not? You’re not?”

  “I wanted to fix everything. But I was selfish. I should have given you money. Bought you a house. Made sure you never worried about something as basic as how to get food on your table.” His eyes were grim. “That first night when you hadn’t eaten dinner, I should have offered kindness. Instead, I propositioned you.” His hands shook with the intensity of his emotions.

  “I am ashamed of my choices, Sarah. I have been wrong in every way.”

  “You have helped me,” she pointed out, the words thick in her throat.

  “That is worthless,” he responded severely. “All my help has come with conditions. I have used your desperation to get what I wanted; your poverty as a lever.”

  “And what did you want?” She baited him crossly, her eyes sparking flames with his.

  “I wanted to go back in time. I wanted to be with the woman I loved, the woman who loved me. But I’ve ruined it, haven’t I?”

  Her heart froze in her chest, stammering painfully. The woman he’d loved? Why had he never said as much to her? How had she not known?

  He took her silence as agreement when it was little more than shock.

  “I should have helped you into a position where you could make your own decisions. And then I should have romanced you. I should have helped you fall in love with me again. I have bullied you, and I cannot continue to do so.”

  She sucked in a deep, husky breath, tears sparkling on her eyes. “Do you love me?” She asked, fear making the words tremble in her mouth. “You just said it, but I need you to say it again.”

  His eyes met hers. “If I loved you, could I have done this?” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I’m capable of love.”

  She laughed, shakily, her mind processing everything he was telling her. “You’re right,” she nodded after a moment. “You have stuffed up. If I loved you any less, I’d probably leave you.”

  “Don’t.” He placed the scotch down on the bench, staring at it, and Sarah reached for it, taking a small taste for courage.

  “Don’t what? Don’t be honest with you?”

  “Don’t offer me your love.” He corrected. “God knows, I don’t deserve it.”

  “Why are you intent on torturing yourself?” She groaned, shaking her head in disbelief. “You left me five years ago and I have been miserable ever since. Miserable. My life felt like it was grayscale. And then you came back and I’m technicolour again. I’m happy for the first time in years. I’m excited for my future. Our future.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Do you think leaving me all over is any kind of solution?”

  “You will have money,” he said thickly.

  “Oh my God,” she groaned, banging her palm against the counter. “And what good is money if I don’t have you? Don’t you get it, Syed? How many times, in how many ways, do I have to show you that all I care about is you! I wanted to come here, to sleep with you that night, because I’ve missed you so much it hurts. I married you because I would take any damned crumb of affection you want to throw me and being married to you seems like the best way to ensure that happens. I don’t want your money!” She said with dark anger.

  His eyes glittered as they met hers and she felt hope. His? Hers? The room rocked with it. At length, he nodded. A sharp jerk of his head in the darkness of the room.

  “Fine. Then I will go back to Kalastan and in six months, we will speak. And see.”

  “And see what?” She cried with disbelief.

  “If you want me, even when you no longer have a financial inducement.”

  “I never had a financial inducement!” She shook her head. “I had a you-inducement. What do I have to do to prove that? Love you? Sleep with you? Marry you? Invite you into my daughter’s life? I have done all those things and I would do them again tomorrow whether you were king of the world or just, simply, Syed.”

  “I want to believe that.” He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing the sensitive flesh of her inner-wrist.

  “So believe it.” She came around the kitchen bench, her eyes locked to his. “Believe that I love you as much now as ever before. That nothing you do could change that. Except for leaving me again.” Her eyes were huge, her face pale. “I see what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to be noble but that’s the wrong way.”

  He swallowed and she lifted up on tiptoes, pressing a kiss against his stubbled cheek. She felt him release a breath, his body relaxing at her closeness.

  “What is the right way? How do I fix this?” He asked, the question gravelled.

  “That’s easy.”

  He arched a thick, dark brow and Sarah smiled. “Love me. Love me every day. Stay with me, stand with me, be by my side when I need you – as I’ll be by yours. Look at me and know that I love you with all of myself and always will. From the minute you walked into the bar I was yours… nothing’s changed that and nothing ever will.”

  “I don’t deserve you,” he said again and she shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips.

  “Probably not. Just as well you can spend the rest of your life trying.”

  “And I will.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her in to his body. “I’m so sorry for … everything.”

  “Don’t be sorry for everything,” she said on a sigh. “Maybe just the blackmail stuff.”

  His laugh was gruff. “Definitely that.” He pressed a finger under her chin, lifting her face to his. His expression was sombre, his voice gruff. “And leaving you. It was the worst mistake of my life.”

  “And yet you were about to make it again…”

  Determination shimmered from his eyes. “I wanted you to choose me. Not because you had to, but because you wanted me.”

  “And I have. I choose you, and I’ll choose you again and again and again. You are my earth angel as much as I am yours.”

  EPILOGUE

  A week later, in the palace he’d grown up in, Syed stared at the man he adored, knowing that he stood on a precipice. On one side, his wife and future, and on the other, his father and past. Thoughts of Sarah and Lexi as they’d been that morning, exploring the quince grove to the East of the palace, filled him with renewed determination.

  “I never wished to hurt you,” Syed murmured softly, leaning forward so that his father could see his face more easily. “But I have no regrets. We are married; as we should have been five years ago.”

  Adin’s eyes were clouded by sickness and the lure of death, yet he found a moment of perception. He studied his younger son intently, his breath rasping as he witnessed every twitch and flicker on his young face.

  “You could not have married her five years ago. You were engaged.”

  “Engagements can be broken.” Syed shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “That is what I should have done.”

  “You didn’t though. Does that not make you question your love for this American?”

  “No.” Syed stood, pacing to the window that overlooked the old city. It was a stunning vista, and in the distance, he could just make out the multiple parapets of his palace. “Nothing could do that.” He turned, his eyes locked to his father’s. “Five years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life. I won’t do so again.”

  Adin’s face showed surprise, but he was pale, and Syed felt compunction in the strength of his words. “I love her,” he said softly. “I married her because I love her, and because I know she will be an excellent wife, mother, Sheikha and counsel. You are my father, naturally I want your approval. But if you withhold it, I’ll live.”

  Adin stared at his son for a moment and then he laughed. A crackled, wheezing sound. “You’ll live?” He prompted with disbelief.

  “
Yes. I am a Prince of Kalastan and I take that duty seriously. But even more importantly, even deeper in my soul, is my duty to Sarah. I will never again forget what it is I owe her.”

  Adin’s laugh muted into a cough, and finally, he shook his head. “Do you know what your mother said to me?”

  A tingle of apprehension ran across Syed’s spine. “What?”

  “She said that if you and I ever truly disagree on an important matter that I should defer to you. That you are wise and your insight important. That I cannot rule without your counsel. That I am never to upset you to the point where you withdraw.”

  He sucked in a hollow breath and Syed listened to the words, something warm rippling over his heart. So his mother had spoken to them both, had she? “And here you stand, telling me exactly that. You are going to withdraw from me. From the palace?”

  Apology was rich in Syed’s face. “If the alternative is staying and having you speak disrespectfully of my wife, then yes. I will leave.”

  Adin sobered almost instantly. “Don’t leave. I have limited days left, but I intend to use them wisely. Do not leave, my son.”

  A muscle jerked in Syed’s cheek. “I will not have Sarah hurt.”

  Adin nodded. “Bring her to me.”

  When Syed didn’t immediately respond, Adin cackled. “I promise to be kind.”

  Later that day, Syed held Sarah’s hand as they approached Adin’s room together. Just outside the door, Syed paused, taking his wife around the waist and pulling her towards him. “I love you,” he said simply.

  She blinked up at him, and her smile was bright. “I know.”

  When the door opened inwards, Adin was not alone.

  Syed’s eyes swiped from the man in bed to his left, where Zahir stood with his wife Violet; and to the right, where Ashad and Charlotte were arm in arm.

  “Quite a welcoming committee,” Sarah murmured under her breath, though perhaps not quietly enough. She was sure she saw the woman to the left of the bed hide a smile.

  “You are the American?” Adin asked, his voice croaky but still rich with command.