Sheikh's Princess Of Convenience

Galila felt as though she was being kidnapped in slow motion. Even her one trusted ally within the palace, Niesha, had gone from being someone who might cover for her long enough for a getaway to being her queen. Galila wasn’t allowed to see her without an appointment and didn’t have time to make one. A travel case had already been packed for her and Karim was knocking on the door to her apartment while she flittered back and forth in a panic.

“Ready?” The detached question made her long to dismiss him as a robot, but there was something deeply alive about him. He was a lion—all-powerful and predatory, completely unfeeling in what he pursued or how much pain he caused, so long as he could feast on whatever it was he desired.

“I will never forgive you for this,” she said in reply.

“Let’s save our vows for our wedding day.”

“There won’t be one.” She used a glare that unfailingly set a man in his place, but he was impervious, meeting her icy gaze without flinching.

Much to her chagrin, as she maintained the eye contact, she felt the tug of desire all over again. His eyes were such a dark brown they were almost black, velvety and holding far more depth than she initially gave credit for.

The whole time he had been blackmailing her brother and admitting that he had manipulated her last night to capture her hand before anyone else could, she had been thinking about how delicious he had made her feel.

She had thought about him all night, mostly feeling disappointed that they’d been caught and interrupted, not nearly as mortified as her brother had wanted her to feel when he had criticized her behavior.

But the enigmatic stranger who had kissed her was gone. He had turned into this disinterested man who had used her. His complete lack of reaction toward her, his utter indifference, reminded her that all the feelings and attraction had been on her side. That thought carved a hole right next to the ones already leaving a hollow feeling inside her.

Even if it was about time she married, even if she absolutely had to succumb to marriage, it should be to a man who wanted her. Not Zufar’s sister. Not the Princess of Khalia. Not the politically expedient ally. Her.

He ought to at least offer her the adoration her mother had had from their father. No one should expect her to accept this.

And yet, as they walked outside to the cars, a polite round of applause went up.

For appearance’s sake, her brother had announced that their engagement had been kept secret for weeks, so as not to overshadow the coming wedding. If Zufar thought the departing wedding guests believed that, there were several bridges in America he could purchase at an excellent price.

Repulsed as she was by the lie, she didn’t make a scene. Far too late for that. She accepted congratulations with a warm, delighted smile. Let them all think this was as grand a romance as her brother tried to package it.

The better to humiliate Karim when she left him in the dust.

* * *

“Are you really a sheikh?”

Oh, had his fiancée finally chosen to speak to him? He glanced up from his productive hour on his laptop.

She hadn’t cried or begged as they left the palace, which he had half expected. She had thrown waves of cold, silent resentment at him, making it clear that if he hadn’t personally escorted her into the car and then his helicopter, she wouldn’t be here.

As a man highly in demand and averse to theatrics, Karim told himself that receiving the silent treatment was a gift. At the same time, he had to acknowledge her strength of will was more than he had bargained for. He wasn’t someone who thrived on challenge and overcoming conflict. He didn’t shy away from it, either. He met obstacles head on and expected them to get out of his way.

This woman, however, with her royal blood seething with passion, wasn’t cowed by the mere timbre of his voice. On the surface, she appeared soft and delicate, but he was beginning to see the length of steel in her spine.

He hoped like hell that didn’t portend clashes. He had no time for tantrums.

“I am,” he answered mildly.

Her skeptical gaze left the window to scan the interior of the helicopter cabin, then dropped to the clothes he’d changed into for travel. He’d worn a suit for his high-stakes meeting with her brother but wore typical Arab attire as often as possible. Not for religious or political reasons, but because he found it the most comfortable.

“I was not expecting company when I left Zyria,” he explained of his helicopter and its lack of attendant. It only seated four in the cabin, but very comfortably. “This aircraft is the fastest and most flexible.” He could fly it if he had to and regularly did, to keep up his skills. He would be doing so now, if she wasn’t here, not that she seemed to want his company.

Her brows lifted in brief disdain as her attention went back out the window. Her frown increased and he almost smiled, realizing why she was skeptical.

The metropolis of his country’s capital, Nabata, was not appearing beneath the descending helicopter. Instead, all she would see out there was a speck of a palace in the rugged desert.

“My mother is looking forward to meeting you. She spends much of her time at the palace my father built for her away from the city.” She liked to escape grim memories.

It almost felt an insult to bring the daughter of his father’s lover to meet his mother, the Queen Mother Tahirah. She had no idea of her husband’s infidelity, of course. Keeping the knowledge from her was why Karim had orchestrated to marry Galila, but he knew. It grated against his conscience along with the rest of the secrets he kept.

Galila noted his expression and asked, “What?” with a small frown. She looked hurt as she touched the scarf she had tucked beneath her popped collar, then glanced down to ensure her skirt and jacket were straight. “Is my hair mussed?”

He cleared whatever shadows had invaded his expression. “No. You’re beautiful. Perfect.”

Her thick lashes swept down and she showed him her profile, but he knew she was eyeing him, suspicious of his compliment.

“You are and you know it,” he chided. “Don’t expect me to pander to your vanity.”

Her painted mouth tightened. “Because I’m not a person whose feelings you care about or even an object you desire. I’m a rung on a ladder.”

He pursed his lips, weighing her words and the scorn beneath them.

“Our marriage is expedient, yes. That doesn’t mean it can’t be successful. Many arranged marriages are.”

“When both parties agree to said marriage, I’m sure they are.”

They landed and disembarked, forestalling further debate—which was unproductive at this point. She was going to marry him and that was that.

“This is very beautiful,” Galila said, gazing on the pink marble and intricately carved teak doors.

While Karim agreed, he found the extravagance of the palace disturbing. Clearly his father had been eager to please his wife with it. This wasn’t a guilty conscience. He had built it before Queen Namani had come into the picture. Sadly, whatever he had felt for Karim’s mother had been overshadowed by what he had felt for the other woman. And Karim and his mother hadn’t been enough to live for, once Queen Namani ended their affair.

What, then, must his father have felt for Queen Namani if his first—and supposedly lesser—infatuation had produced this sort of monument? It was a depth of passion—of possession—Karim couldn’t wrap his head around. He instinctively shied away from examining it too closely, maintaining a safe distance the way he would a conflagration or other life-threatening force.

As Galila started up the steps, he touched her arm, halting her.

She stilled and seemed to catch her breath. A soft blush rose under her skin.

Her reaction caused an echoing thrill inside him, one that warned him that he was tying himself to a ticking bomb and had to be very careful. On the surface, this physical compatibility might be exciting and promise a successful union, but he knew what indulged passion could do to a man.

He yanked the reins on his own response, hard, especially as he realized he was taking advantage of every opportunity to touch her and still had his palm on her arm. He dropped his hand to his side with self-disgust.

She was looking right at him and whatever she read in his expression made a tiny flinch cross her features. It was gone so fast, he could have been mistaken, but it slid an invisible wall between them, one that niggled at him.

She lifted her chin to a haughty angle. “Yes?”

“You’ll be kind to my mother.”

Her spine grew tall with offense. “I’m always kind.” She flipped her hair. “I was being kind last night when I let you kiss me.”

It took him a full second to understand that the unfamiliar sensation in his throat was an urge to laugh. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d loosened up enough for that, and fought it out of instinct.

At the same time, a deeper reaction—not ego, but definitely something that had roots in his masculinity—was affronted at her dismissal of their kisses last night. He knew exactly how potent they had been and didn’t care for her trying to dismiss that inferno as “kindness.”

The impulse to show her... But no. He refused to allow her to disarm him in any way. He waved her forward. “I’ll look forward to your next act of kindness, then.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Come.” He broke the eye contact. He could not, under any circumstances, become enamored with her. He had seen with his own eyes what falling for her mother had done to his father. He would not be another casualty to a Khalia temptress.

* * *

Despite its compact size and remote location, expense had not been spared on the desert palace. Galila was no stranger to wealth, but even she had to appreciate the effort of transporting marble and teak doors.

Inside, a fountain provided a musical ripple of noise and cooled the air. Columns rose three stories to a stained-glass dome. Mosaics in green and blue covered the walls to eye height before switching to delicate patterns in golds and blues and tangerines. Wrought iron marked the second-and third-floor walkways that encircled this grand foyer.

“I don’t know what this is. A genie’s lamp?” She was in love. “It’s too beautiful for words.”

Karim drew her up some stairs so thickly carpeted their shoes made no sound. They entered his mother’s parlor where he introduced her to the Queen Mother Tahirah.

The older woman rose to greet them, her face holding deeply etched marks of grief that reminded Galila of the ones her father wore.

“It’s like Queen Namani has come to visit me. Her beauty survives, if not my dear friend herself,” she said, taking Galila’s hands as she studied her features. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Galila murmured, returning Tahirah’s kisses against her cheeks, genuinely touched by her condolence. “I didn’t realize you knew my mother, but of course you must have met her at some point through the years.”

Was it her imagination that Karim stiffened? She glanced at him, but only saw the aloof expression she couldn’t read. The one that stung because it felt like a condemnation for reasons she didn’t understand.

“When we were young, yes,” his mother said, drawing her attention back to her. “We often met up after we were both married, but lost touch after my husband passed. My fault. I ceased most of my royal duties and rarely went on social visits. I couldn’t face the responsibilities without my soul, Jamil. Thankfully Karim’s uncle was able to manage things until Karim was old enough to take his rightful position. And now my son has found happiness.” Her faint smile was a weak ray of light in her otherwise anguished expression.

Oh, yes, they were both quite giddy and could hardly contain themselves, Galila thought, but she was kind to the less fortunate. Tahirah might be surrounded by extravagance, but she was the living embodiment of money not buying happiness. Her heart was clearly broken and had been for a long time.

“I expect we will both be very content as we go into the future,” Galila prevaricated, adding a silent, separately. Read the news, gentlemen. Times had changed.

“And the wedding?” Tahirah asked.

“Within the month,” Karim said firmly. “As soon as it can be arranged.”

Galila stiffened, wondering if he had been planning to ask her about the timeline, but kept her pique to herself as Tahirah drew her across to the satin-covered loveseat.

“There’s time for you to wear my engagement ring, then. I had it brought out of the safe.”

“I...don’t know what to say.” Galila looked from the velvet box that Tahirah presented to her, then looked up to Karim, completely taken aback.

He nodded slightly, urging her to accept it.

She opened it and caught her breath.

An enormous pink diamond was surrounded by white baguettes. The wide band was scrolled with tendrils of smaller diamonds, making it as ostentatious as anything could be, but it was also such a work of art, it had to be admired. Coveted and adored, as every woman would want to be by her fiancé as she anticipated joining with him for a lifetime.

Her heart panged at the love that shone from such a piece, something she would never have if she married this man. She swallowed, searching for a steady voice.

“This is stunning. Obviously very special. I’m beyond honored.” And filled with anguish that this was such a farce of a marriage when this ring was clearly from a marriage of total devotion. “Are you quite sure?” She looked again to Karim, helplessly in love with it but not wanting to accept something so precious when she was quite determined to abandon him at the first opportunity. She couldn’t be kind and lie to this poor woman.

“I am,” Tahirah said with a husk in her voice. “I haven’t worn it in years, but it is beautiful, isn’t it? Karim’s father loved me so much. Spoiled me outrageously. Built me this palace...” She blinked nostalgia-laden eyes. “Losing him still feels as raw today.” She squeezed Galila’s hand. “And I’m quite sure Karim is as enamored with you. He has always told me he was waiting for the right woman. I’m delighted he finally found you.”

Galila conjured a feeble smile that she hoped his mother interpreted as overwhelming gratitude. She felt very little conscience in defying her brother or even Karim, but misrepresenting herself to Tahirah was disrespectful and hurtful. She was genuinely sorry that she was going to disappoint her.

Karim took the ring from the box and held out his hand for Galila to offer hers.

His warm touch on her cool fingers made her draw in her navel and hold her breath, but it didn’t stop the trickle of heat that wound through her, touching like fairy dust to secretive places, leaving glittering heat and a yearning she didn’t completely understand.

Yet again, she experienced a moment of wishing there could be something more between them, something real, but he was being entirely too heavy-handed. She was a modern woman, not someone who would succumb to a man because she’d been ordered to by another.

At the same time, she reacted to Karim as he bent to kiss her cheek. The corners of her mouth stopped cooperating and went every direction. She thought he drew a deliberate inhale, drinking in the scent of her skin when his face was that close, but he straightened away and she was lost at sea again.

She looked to her hands in her lap, pulse throbbing in her throat and tried to focus on the ring. When she finally saw it clearly, she was utterly taken with it—as she was by all sparkly, pretty things. But it was legitimately loose on her, not even staying on her middle finger without dropping right off.

“I would feel horrible if anything happened to it,” she said truthfully to Karim. “Would you please take custody of it until it can be resized?”

“If you prefer.”

“Do you mind?” she asked Tahirah before she removed it. “I would be devastated if I lost it. It’s so beautiful and means so much to you.”

Tahirah looked saddened but nodded. “Of course. It’s even loose on me these days. It fit me perfectly through my pregnancy and Karim’s childhood, but I haven’t had a proper appetite since losing his father. Once I took it off, I couldn’t bear to wear it again. It reminded me too starkly of what I’d lost. Everything does.”

* * *

This was why Karim was marrying Galila, this anguish that his mother still carried three decades after her loss. How could he take the grief she attributed to a tragic accident and reveal that her husband had deliberately left her? That he had thrown himself off a balcony, rather than face life without the real object of his love?

Fortunately, Galila asked about the palace and other things, not letting his mother dwell too far in the darkness of the past. Karim had been worried when the topic of her mother had come up as they arrived, but now they were moving on to a recap of her brother’s wedding and other harmless gossip.

At a light knock, his mother said, “I’ve had a luncheon prepared. Shall we go through to my private dining room?”

Galila excused herself to freshen up.

“She seems lovely,” his mother said as Galila disappeared.

“She is,” Karim said, relieved to discover Galila was so skillful at small talk. Their marriage was expedient, and he had spent a restless night thinking that having her as a wife would be a sexually gratifying, if dangerous, game, but he was seeing potential in her to be the sort of partner who fit into his world as if made for it.

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