The Sheikh’s Fake Marriage: Sheikhs of Hamari Book Two

by North, Leslie

  Sheikhs of Hamari

  The Sheikh’s American Lover

  The Sheikh’s Fake Marriage

  The Sheikh’s Pregnant Nanny

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, MAY 2020

  Copyright © 2020 Relay Publishing Ltd.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Leslie North is a pen name created by Relay Publishing for co-authored Romance projects. Relay Publishing works with incredible teams of writers and editors to collaboratively create the very best stories for our readers.

  Cover design by Mayhem Cover Creations.

  www.relaypub.com

  Blurb

  In Sheikh Kishon’s small kingdom, it’s tradition that older sons marry before the younger ones. Problem is, his younger brother desperately wants to get married—and marriage is the last thing Kishon desires. Lucky for him, artist Chloe Sanderson is intrigued by his offer of a marriage of convenience. He’s been flirting with the sexy American on his visits to the US for months, admiring her spunk and easy way with people. Knowing her desire to travel, he offers her a world tour if she’ll be his fake wife. To Kishon, it’s the perfect plan. Not only does his brother get to marry the woman he loves, but Kishon gets the elders off his back. He just has to make sure no one discovers he’s marrying for business, something that would put him in a bad light with the elders.

  For Chloe, marrying this sexy sheikh isn’t much of a sacrifice, especially since it’s all a farce. She’ll get to see the world and paint all the beautiful sites she’s always dreamed of. Sure, actually marrying Kishon is a bit surreal, but passion-filled nights and romantic days soon make her realize that nothing is fake about her feelings for Kishon, even though his feelings are pretty clear. No love. No future. Once his brother marries, her romance with the hard-headed sheikh will be over.

  But do either of them really want it to be?

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  (Sheikhs of Hamari Book Two)

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  End of The Sheikh’s Fake Marriage

  Thank You!

  About Leslie

  Sneak Peek: The Sheikh’s Pregnant Nanny

  Also by Leslie

  1

  The sheikh from Hamari had an exceptional ass.

  Chloe couldn’t take her eyes off it. His pants added something, too—they were tailored, hugging the tight, fit butt the way only custom-made pants could. Even someone without her eye for detail would have appreciated the way Kishon’s pants accentuated the toned muscles underneath, but Chloe especially did.

  It was a bummer that he was leaving.

  Chloe sighed as the door swung closed behind him, cutting off the exceptional view of his body in yet another of his custom suits. The bar nestled up to a luxury hotel, so it attracted lots of businessmen and ritzy wedding guests, but Kishon had been head and shoulders above all of them, sometimes literally. She’d never thought of herself as short, but more than once looking up at him from across the bar had taken her breath away. He had to be six three, at least.

  “Is your man gone?” Hailey, one of the waitresses and Chloe’s best friend on staff, swooped up to the bar with a tray balanced on her shoulder.

  Chloe plucked the slim check holder with Kishon’s receipt in it from the gleaming mahogany surface of the bar. “He’s not my man,” she said, for the hundredth time. Hailey had been teasing her about her easy connection with the sheikh since the first week he’d shown up at the Highball a little over six months ago. At first, he’d just been a good customer—friendly, personable, and drop-dead sexy. Then he’d been a good repeat customer, stopping in most evenings when he was in DC. “And yes, he’s gone.”

  “He’ll be back to see you tomorrow, I’m willing to bet.” Hailey’s eyes danced.

  “He won’t, because he’s flying out.” Chloe opened the check holder. There was his name in a big, masculine scrawl, beneath a big, masculine number on the tip line. “Back to Hamari.”

  “And you might never see him or his flawless man bun again.” Hailey fanned herself with her free hand. “How can you be so chill about it? You had a king fawning all over you, and you just let him walk out the door.”

  Chloe shot Hailey a look. “He’s not a king in here, and I don’t—”

  “—date customers,” Hailey finished for her. “I know. But you could have dated him, and nobody would have faulted you for it. A king. A king!”

  Chloe opened her mouth to argue, but now that Kishon was gone and his favorite seat at the bar empty, she felt strangely empty, too. He’d been in DC a lot over the past month or so—more than he’d ever been before. It was for something diplomatic that hadn’t seemed to matter much in comparison with all the flirting and banter they’d shared in the beginning. At first, Chloe had smiled and batted her eyelashes because a subtle flirt was the fastest way to an excellent tip, but he had been genuinely charming. And…honorable. Kishon had asked her to have dinner with him in the third week, and she’d turned him down. He hadn’t pushed or cajoled or leered, just taken her answer at face value.

  “Yeah,” she said, finally getting the word out. “I could have.”

  Hailey clicked her tongue and whirled away, shining ponytail flying behind her. “Mistakes,” she called over her shoulder. “We all make ‘em.”

  Chloe traced a finger over Kishon’s signature on the receipt. Maybe it had been a mistake to stick to her rules so stringently. It hadn’t just been flirting, teasing banter. There had been plenty of evenings when the bar was quiet. Kishon would lean up against the bar top, arms crossed in a way that put his carved biceps on display, and the two of them would settle into comfortable conversation. Like two people who knew each other.

  In a way, she did know him, at least a little. She knew about his brother, and his cousin, and the cousin they’d just discovered—a boy named Ryan. She knew that Kishon’s younger brother wanted to get married but couldn’t…not until Kishon got married.

  That thought made jealousy twist behind her ribs, which was ridiculous. She punched in Kishon’s tip, put the receipt in the register, and added the check folder to the neat pile on the counter. Kishon was a rich, sexy king. He’d have no trouble finding a wife, once he set his mind to it. And that woman would be very, very lucky.

  It could have been you, a voice in the back of her mind whispered, and she shut that down like the nonsense that it was. Chloe didn’t
date customers. Or kings. And even if she did, he was on his way back to Hamari. She would never see him again.

  “Hey! Hey, Bartender! We’re thirsty. Come on over and serve us.”

  The call came from a red-faced businessman at a round table in the corner. He sat with six of his nearest and dearest with their matching leers and ill-fitting suits. Gross.

  Hailey was on break, so Chloe pasted on her best fake smile and headed over. At a high-end bar like the Highball, she couldn’t shoot them a surly look and tell them to screw off. Plus, every tip made a difference. Rent and bills came first, but if she wanted to take a trip around the world—and she did, more than anything—she needed to save up. Keep smiling, she ordered herself. This table full of assholes gets you one step closer to Paris.

  That was the dream. Painting en plein air by the Eiffel Tower. Anywhere in Europe, really, as long as she could set up her easel and her paints and feel the wind in her hair and the sun on her face…

  She’d make it happen. It would happen faster if she won the lottery, but for now, she depended on businessmen—and the occasional dreamy sheikh—and their tips.

  “Hi, guys. What can I get for you?” A quick scan of the table told her that they didn’t need more to drink. Hailey hadn’t swept away the latest buildup of glasses and beers. The water pitcher in the center of the table was still half full.

  “We could use something…” The man who called her over licked his lips. Sick. “Sweet.”

  Chloe bit back the urge to tell him that he could use a swift kick in the balls. “We have several cocktails you might like,” she said brightly.

  “Like this one?” One of the other men lifted a martini glass with the dregs of something red at the bottom of the glass. “The cute waitress brought this earlier, but it wasn’t quite—” He fumbled the glass. “Shit.” The curse came at the same moment the glass slipped from his fingers. It shattered on the floor.

  Chloe sprang into action. “No problem. Let me just get—”

  The cleaning closet wasn’t far, and she was back with a broom and a dustpan in a matter of seconds. The last thing she needed was one of those clowns cutting himself on broken glass. She bent over, looking for stray pieces that might have gone under the table.

  “Now that’s sweet,” said the man closest to her, and then his hand was on her ass, gripping it like he was testing a piece of fruit. Hard. Chloe yelped, standing up fast. What the hell? Who did he think he was? She rounded on him, brandishing the dustpan…only to see him lifted bodily out of his seat by his jacket.

  At first, Chloe only saw the hands bunched around the cloth, but she quickly followed the attached arms to a face. Kishon. Her heart bucked wildly in her chest. What was he doing back in the bar? Oh, thank God he was back in the bar.

  “Hey. Hey. Hey, buddy, what do you think you’re doing?”

  What he was doing was dragging the man toward the door of the bar, saying something low in his ear. By the set of his jaw, Chloe couldn’t imagine it was pleasant. One of his buddies kept shouting at them as he leaped across the floor, going right for Kishon, hands locking around Kishon’s bicep.

  It was chaos.

  She dropped the broom and dustpan with a clatter she could barely hear over the shouting and ran after them. Chloe had to separate them, calm them down—

  Kishon had a hand on the second businessman’s chest when she got there, two more of their friends hot on her heels. All of them shouting, posturing, chests puffed—drunk.

  “Let’s all take a minute,” she said in her best I’m-in-charge voice. “Guys. Let’s take a breather—”

  The second businessman spat a curse in her face.

  Chloe threw a punch.

  He lunged at her.

  Kishon wasn’t there, and then he was, pulling the man back by the collar without letting go of the first guy. He was so strong. He didn’t flinch in the face of the yelling circle of buzzed businessmen.

  “Time to go,” he growled, and hauled them toward the door.

  It was all getting caught on camera, she realized. Phones were out of purses and pockets all around them, the gleaming rectangles recording every movement. Oh, this was not going to be good.

  One of the businessmen blocked Kishon’s path like a gnat, hopping up and down, fists clenched at his sides. “Who do you think you are to throw my friends out of this bar?” The man’s voice shook with belligerent rage.

  “I’m this woman’s fiancé,” Kishon shot back. “And all of you are done here tonight.”

  Her heartbeat sounded in her head, every pulse a drumbeat. Fiancé? Fiancé?

  She didn’t even see him push them out the door, she was so dumbfounded.

  “—you to go.” Her manger Peter’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  “What?”

  “It’s time for you to go, Chloe. You’re done here.” Peter’s face was flushed, jaw working. “Almost everybody in this place has footage of you punching a customer. You’re done.”

  “You’re kidding.” Kishon was back at her side. “Chloe’s done nothing wrong. Those men were harassing her.”

  “I didn’t see that,” hedged Peter. “What I did see was Chloe clocking a man in the middle of the bar.”

  Pain danced across her knuckles, surfacing for the first time from the wave of adrenaline. “One of them grabbed me,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.

  “This isn’t how you treat someone in your employ.” Kishon’s tone was sharp. “It’s despicable. Chloe, get your things. You’re coming with me.”

  “I—what?” The commanding tone of his voice was doing things to her. Heat low in her belly and between her legs, and goose bumps down the back of her neck.

  “I won’t leave you here. Come with me.” Kishon offered her his hand, and she took it.

  “Your purse,” whispered Hailey from just off her elbow, and she handed Chloe her battered bag.

  And then Chloe walked away with the king of Hamari.

  “Kishon,” she said as he pushed open the doors to the bar. “I don’t think—”

  Cameras flashed. It felt like a hundred of them, but it was probably more like ten.

  “Not now,” Kishon said, holding up a hand. The paparazzi didn’t listen.

  “Kishon, who’s this?” one of them called out. “Is she really your fiancée?”

  A jittery, nervous energy moved through her. Paparazzi. They were taking her picture. This was going to be news. Maybe even international news. Her mouth went dry. Not only was it going to be news, but she was freshly out of a job. The energy turned into a tremble, and Chloe sucked in a sharp breath.

  Kishon slipped an arm around her and pulled her close. “Not now,” he called again. “We’ll go to my suite,” he told her in a softer voice. “We can talk there.”

  2

  The hotel entrance was only about a hundred feet from the bar, but walking in the front doors felt like walking into a different world. Chloe relaxed against Kishon’s side at the smooth kiss of the temperature-controlled air and the quiet. Oh, the quiet. The Highball wasn’t usually rowdy—this evening had been a wild exception—but it was always humming with voices. The soft rush of a fountain in the center of the lobby was like silk against her skin.

  “Wow.”

  “You know,” Kishon said, a smile in his voice, “you don’t have to whisper.”

  “It feels like I do.” She cleared her throat, tried again. “I’ve never been in here before, not even to look.”

  “You work next door.” His laugh warmed her like a shot of the finest whiskey.

  “I worked next door,” Chloe said, a spike of anxiety spearing her throat. “Those days are over.” Their footfalls were muffled by a rich wine-colored carpet, bordered by paths of marble. “Oh, man. I’m out of a job, and—wow, this is not good.”

  “You can relax.” He led her beneath a sparkling chandelier and past a sitting area so lush that Chloe wanted to sink into one of the white leather sofas, right there in the lobby. “W
e’ll figure it out.”

  It was so soothing, that we, even though Chloe couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it. Were they a we? What had he been thinking, calling himself her fiancé? Her thoughts tumbled around in her mind, all wrapped up in the loud, wrong laughter of the men at the table. At the bar, she’d acted on instinct. Now, a wash of sick fear moved over her. They could have hurt her. Kishon had truly been a white knight.

  At the bank of elevators, each door polished to a high shine, they didn’t have to wait. One of them slid open the moment Kishon pressed the call button, and he ushered her inside.

  Her body shook. He still hadn’t let her go, and Chloe didn’t want him too.

  “Thank you,” she said, a tension at the base of her spine unlocking as the elevator whisked them upward. “For saving me. That probably sounds cliché, but…you really saved me.”

  Lightning flashed through his eyes. “I’m only glad I came back. I got a few blocks away and realized—” She felt the shake of his head rather than saw it. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re all right.”

  The elevator stopped, and…it was the penthouse. She hadn’t been paying attention, but it was the penthouse.

  The two of them crossed a wide hallway to a set of double doors, and Kishon waved his phone in front of a scanner. She didn’t hear the doors unlock, but Kishon pushed them open and…