by Leslie North
“It’s you in a happy moment, I hope,” he said, throat tight.
“Yes, Malik.” She took his face in her hands. “I will marry you. And I’ll do you proud with the oasis.” Then she got a wicked gleam in her eyes. “But the moment it’s mine, watch out. I might really develop it. To perfection.”
He kissed her then, slow and tender and searching.
Holly wanted none of that.
She threw herself into his lap, knees on either side of his hips, and kissed him with such wild confidence that Malik lost himself in the moment. He ran his hands down her sides, then brought them up and worked his fingers through her hair. Holly moved against him, kissing him hard, then brought her lips down to where his shoulder met his neck. He felt her teeth nipping him and her hips bucking against him, and he thought there had never been a more perfect moment in the history of the world.
A gentle rap on the window interrupted them.
Holly looked up and waved her fingers. “We have an audience,” she said.
Malik craned his neck to look out the window. The plane, as it turned out, hadn’t yet gone back down the runway. “The windows are tinted,” he said. “They can’t see inside.”
“No. Up there.”
Through the windshield, which was decidedly less tinted, Bandar waved. Then he came around to the window next to Malik. Holly reached across him and lowered it.
“Don’t you think it would be best to get back to the palace, Sheikh Malik?” Bandar asked, barely managing to disguise his smile.
Malik pretended to consider. “Yes. Yes, I do think that would be the best idea.” He turned back to Holly, who was already laughing. “Tell me, Ms. Remington. Will you join me there?”
She climbed off him and slipped her hand into his. “I would love to. How long do you think you’ll have me?”
“As long as you’ll give me, my love,” he said, his heart alight with happiness. “As long as you’ll give me.”
Epilogue
“Ready?” Holly signaled to Malik, who stood near the kitchen in the community gathering room. “One, two, three.”
All the people who had gathered to celebrate the twins’ first birthday broke into song. It was the American version of the birthday song, and what Holly heard most was the laughter.
It had been an incredible year and a half.
She and Malik had been married, barely a month after he proposed. He hadn’t wanted to wait, and neither had she. It had seemed like the last piece of the puzzle she’d been trying to complete all her life.
Well, she’d been wrong about that. The twins were the final piece. Or…maybe they weren’t. Maybe they’d shown her that there was room for more in her life.
Holly led the song with a smile on her face as Malik approached with two small cakes balanced in his hands. One for Talora, their girl, and one for Sami, their boy.
How had a year gone by so quickly?
Malik stepped past her as the song reached its peak and put a cake in front of each twin. The song finished, the babies looked at the cakes…
And they dug in, to the delight of the guests.
Malik’s father was there, of course, and his brothers and sister. They stood in a clutch closest to the highchairs where the twins sat underneath a giant HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner. Malik stepped back and put his arm around Holly.
“They’re a miracle,” he said softly.
“They really are,” she answered back.
And they were.
There had been, as they learned at that first appointment, no guarantees that the twins would both make it to term. But they had, and gloriously. Dr. Najjar had delivered them at thirty-eight weeks.
“Pictures!” Hasim cried. “I want us all in the pictures with these two precious beings.” He stepped forward and started directing people into place around the highchairs. Beyond the immediate royal family, they’d invited friends she’d made through her new business.
Holly hadn’t gone back to Clifton’s firm, but had agreed to consult on the Qadiri projects, so Clifton could still get the contract. She’d taken a week in Qadir to think about it, but after what had happened, she just didn’t see herself going back to her desk in that office and taking orders from Clifton ever again.
Instead she’d opened her own development firm in Qadir. She prided herself on winning contracts on her own merit, working with all kinds of people…just not the royal family.
Holly had still invited Clifton to the birthday party. He was in Qadir every couple of months to oversee the projects that Berber Inc. had won from the royal family, and as a close friend of Hasim’s, he’d been an easy add to the guest list. It was all about family now, and if her father-in-law wanted him to be a part of important moments like this, what was it to Holly?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
But there was someone far closer to her in attendance at the party.
“Dad?” Holly’s father stood at her side, hands in his pockets, beaming at the twins. “Let’s go be in the pictures.”
“Oh, no.” He waved her off. “I’ll wait until everybody in the family is done.”
“Please. You’re in the family too.” Holly looped her arm through his and pulled him forward.
The entire family gathered around, and the official royal photographer snapped the photo. It was not a staged affair, with fancy clothes and stiff postures, and that was exactly how Holly liked it. She liked all of her life now. With her father splitting his time between New York City and Qadir, her firm succeeding beyond her wildest dreams, and her husband by her side, she didn’t have a single complaint.
The cherry on top of all of it was the oasis.
She’d worked to put her plans in motion, and they had been completed three months before the twins’ first birthday. The space was already in high demand, with people coming and going to art classes and gatherings every day of the week. Everyone seemed to understand how precious the space was and treated it with absolute reverence.
Holly looked out over the community gathering room, at all their assembled guests, and squeezed Malik’s hand. “So much love in this room,” she said.
He waited, eyebrows raised.
“What?” Holly asked.
“I was waiting for you to make a joke about all the love in the room,” Malik said. “That’s very much your style.”
“No jokes,” she said. “It’s sheer perfection.”
“You’re sheer perfection.” He kissed her temple. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
She and Malik stepped away from the highchairs and looked at the family enjoying its youngest members.
“I don’t know,” said Holly.
“Don’t know about what?”
Malik’s voice was filled with contentment.
“I just don’t know if two is enough.”
He looked at her, eyes wide. “Don’t joke.”
“I’m not joking.”
Malik put a hand to the side of her face, a glint in his dark eyes that Holly recognized very well. “If that’s the case, then there’s no time to lose.”
“Ooh—I didn’t realize there was a deadline,” Holly said. “How long do we really have?”
“I’d say…midnight at the latest.”
“Midnight,” she gasped. “That really isn’t much time.” She pursed her lips, pretending to think. “That’s it. Party’s over. We have to leave now.”
He laughed out loud. “Don’t you dare cancel anyone’s birthday.”
“It’s already done. Clear out, everyone. My husband and I have a date.”
Malik grinned down at her. “I still love the sound of that.”
“What? Date?”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Husband.”
“Look at these lovebirds,” Zaman said loudly from nearby. “Making plans for after the party.”
“Shh,” called Holly. “Don’t give away my secrets.”
“My apologies,” answered Zaman with a grin. Then Amina s
tarted calling for the bigger cake, and Holly found herself drawn back into one of the best days of her life.
Still, she thought, looking at Malik and her children, the best were truly yet to come.
End of The Sheikh’s Surprise Twins
The Sheikh’s Surprise Twins, 27 February 2020
The Sheikh’s American Assistant, 5 March 2020
The Sheikh’s Stubborn Employee, 12 March 2020
Do you love passionate Sheikhs? Then keep reading for exclusive extracts from The Sheikh’s American Assistant and The Sheikh’s Surprise Heir.
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About Leslie
Leslie North is the USA Today Bestselling pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women's contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.
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BLURB
Makayla Riggs is convinced her father was wrongfully convicted, and she’s going to prove it. Her father died in prison in Qadir, a tiny Arabic country, after being found guilty of stealing a diamond from the royal family. Convinced her father was framed by the al Baians, the powerful family he was working for, Makayla heads to Qadir and finds an unlikely ally in Sheikh Baqir Abdul-Rahman, who has his own suspicions about the al Baians. As the two work together to uncover the truth, Makayla can’t help but find herself falling under the charming sheikh’s spell. How can she not when Baqir is the only one who believes her father was framed?
Baqir is trying to solve several other jewelry thefts and knows he’s treading in dangerous territory to place blame for all the thefts on the al Baians. Yet he finds himself willing to do just about anything to help Makayla. Their long nights investigating the original theft brings them closer, and it isn’t long before the two finally give in to the red-hot chemistry that's been torturing them since they met. When Makayla is threatened by the al Baians, Baqir is desperate to protect her; a kind of desperation that feels like more than chemistry: he’s fallen deeply in love with the beautiful American. But will Baqir be too late to save Makayla, will she disappear forever from his life?
Grab your copy of The Sheikh’s American Assistant
Available March 5, 2020
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EXCERPT
CHAPTER ONE
Keep it calm. Keep it cool. Act like you belong.
Those were the rules of snooping around someone else’s estate. At least, those were the rules Makayla had set for herself when she’d decided on this frankly insane plan to get justice for her father.
The key here was to act like she was a maid. The scratchy black uniform was the right look, but did Makayla have the right attitude? She couldn’t say. Maids probably didn’t stare pointedly around every room they entered, like she’d just caught herself doing. There wasn’t much dust around the door of the wine cellar, but Makayla swept the duster briskly over the door handle anyway and pretended to see something stuck to the brass. She bent down and tried the handle. Locked. That was to be expected; only the cook and her employer Abdi al Baian himself had the key to the wine cellar. Still, it had been worth a try.
Abdi and Hasara al Baian’s house was huge. The sprawling mansion took its cue from the McMansions in the States, with a little Qadiri flair in the tiling and stonework. Her project would have been easier if they lived in a smaller house, especially since Makayla didn’t know exactly what she was looking for. Papers? A flash drive? It could be anything, but something in this house held the key to her father’s innocence.
She was certain of it.
Makayla bustled away from the door of the wine cellar, crossed the enormous kitchen, and took the back stairs up to the main floor. Staying ahead of Hasara was going to be her biggest side project, aside from finding evidence that proved her father was innocent. The woman actually had white gloves that she wore to test the cleanliness of the house. Makayla had been surprised at how easy it was to get a job as a maid in the al Baian household. Then she’d met Hasara.
The lady of the house had a smile as fake as the display fruit in the big bowl on the dining room table. It never reached her eyes. Makayla had been there for weeks, and she’d never seen Hasara experience any genuine emotion other than irritation and anger. It was almost lucky that the al Baians’ daughter didn’t need a tutor, which had been Makayla’s original idea for getting into the house. That would have meant more time in the direct line of fire.
It probably wouldn’t be long, anyway, until Hasara decided to stop putting up with her. If it weren’t for the fact that she spoke two languages and was an American citizen…well, she could dust, but Makayla didn’t have a particular talent for cleaning.
The main floor itself was almost deserted, except for other staff walking quickly, heads down. Hasara wasn’t even here tonight, but her very existence kept everyone under an anxious cloud. Makayla lowered her own head and moved purposefully across the spacious foyer with its luxe tiling job. She wanted to search one more place tonight, and she could feel the time ticking down.
Abdi’s office.
She’d already searched the bedrooms—the couple slept in separate master suites—and Hasara’s private sitting rooms on the off-chance that they kept sensitive documents either place. Makayla hadn’t found anything. The office was her best chance.
Her heart thudded loudly in her ears. “Shh,” she whispered, as if the sound of her own voice could have a calming effect. It did, a little. She moved with purpose down the wide hallway, her footsteps muffled on the carpet. And she headed straight for the door with her head held high.
Despite the rush of her pulse in her ears, she was hyper-aware of every tiny sound. She didn’t think anyone was in the hall. If someone walked by, they wouldn’t see her hesitating or craning her neck to look over her shoulder. They’d see a woman going somewhere she was absolutely supposed to be.
The handle of the office door offered no resistance under her palm. She held her breath. The hairs on the back of her neck seemed stroked by an invisible breeze as she let herself into the room and closed the door behind her. Makayla arranged her face into a look of surprise a second before she registered that the room was empty.
She let out a massive sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god.” Then she hurried forward. There was no telling when the al Baians would be back from the gala.
Desk first.
She rifled through the papers on the top, feeling short of breath. It was weird to be doing this kind of espionage. It was weird, first and foremost, that her father had been arrested for theft. According to everyone he knew, he had never pushed boundaries. He wouldn’t have broken the law. But the al Baians had accused him of stealing a valuable diamond. They’d had him thrown in prison. He’d died there. Makayla had lived most of her life without him because of these people.
Could anyone blame her for wanting to know why?
She didn’t see anything about any diamond on the top of the desk, or in the three top drawers. The second drawer down was locked. Makayla opened the slim drawer just beneath the top of the desk and scanned again, finding a little golden key wedged up against the side. It fit into the lock on the second drawer, which slid open with a creak that stopped her heart. She froze, waiting.
Nobody came.
But as she sat there with the half-open drawer poised in her hands, something on the wall caught her eye.
A seam.
She hadn’t noticed it before.
Makayla went to the wall and traced the seam with a fingertip. It was so thin it was almost invisible…almost.
A hidden door?
Her pulse sped up like a spurred horse. If it was a hidden door, there had to be some kind of mechanism. Maybe on the desk?
Makayla ran back to the desk and threw herself into the chair. It had to be accessible when you were sitting in the chair, according to every spy movie she’d ever seen. She closed the open drawer, then opened all of them in turn again. Nothing.
Then she pulled open the top drawer, the slimmest one, and started feeling around inside. It felt like a cliche—like a switch couldn’t possibly be hidden in this drawer. Hannah ran her fingers along each side, straining to reach the back corner.
There—there it was. There something was. It felt like a round doorbell button.
She hesitated, saying a silent prayer that the door would reveal something she needed. Anything. It had been a lifetime without her dad. She’d only had a couple of months to hope that anything could be done to prove his innocence. The thought of it—the thought of finally vindicating him, after all those years—tasted like bright possibility on her tongue.
She pressed the button.
The door slid open, the section of wall sliding noiselessly away to reveal a room deeper than the light from the office could reveal.
Makayla clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. There it was. Her next step. The thing that—
An alarm sounded.
It was high and shrill, and the noise pierced Makayla’s heart. Shit. Was it the door that had triggered the alarms or something else? Had they discovered her in Abdi’s office? She fumbled for the switch. The door didn’t shut. She pushed again and again. Nothing. It was stuck. It was stuck.