“You’re putting my crib together?” Who was this man? “Why?”
“I heard that they can be tricky to put together, and I didn’t want you to have to stress about it. When you tell me where you want the crib, I’ll put a hook over it so you can hang a mobile. Have you gotten a stroller or a car seat yet?”
Confused, Danielle could only stare at him, but luckily, the water started to boil over. Riyad gently lowered her feet and went to take care of the spaghetti, still talking. “I stocked some ice cream in the freezer. Natalie said that she couldn’t eat enough of it when she was pregnant, but I think that all pregnant woman are different, so if you don’t want ice cream or you don’t like the flavors I got, let me know, and I’ll get you whatever you need.”
“I don’t really need anything, Riyad. I just went to the grocery store.” She shifted and pushed herself up. “Honestly, all I really want right now is some food, a bath, and bed.”
“Well, we’ve got food covered.” He fixed a plate and walked it over to her. “And when you’re done with that, I’ll draw you a hot bath.”
Accepting the spaghetti, she cocked her head and stared at him as he knelt back down in front of her to work on her feet again. After a few silent bites of spaghetti, she started to feel better. “This is good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Why are you here, Riyad?”
“I thought I made that clear. I’m helping out around the apartment.”
“Right. And you’re going to leave when there’s nothing left for you to do,” she echoed with a sigh. “So you woke up one morning and decided you wanted to be a handyman and personal cook?”
“Not a handyman. Not a cook. Your handyman.” He smiled. “Your cook. For as long as you’ll have me.”
“Riyad, I tried to kick you out as soon as I walked in. I would have tried harder, if I had more energy.”
He didn’t seem at all disturbed. “In the morning, you will be rested, and you can try again,” he said easily.
“Tomorrow, I have to go to work.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to wait until this weekend to kick me out.”
“That’s three days from now. You’re planning on being my handyman and my cook for three days? Where do you plan on sleeping?”
He shrugged. “The couch looks reasonably comfortable.”
When he finished the foot massage, he drew her a warm bath and helped her off the couch. While she relaxed, she could hear him cleaning up in the kitchen. Next, he folded down the sheets of her bed and asked her if she needed anything. Then, without so much as a kiss, he turned out the light and went into the other room to sleep.
In the morning, breakfast was waiting for her. Feeling better and not entirely sure she wanted him to stay, she asked him to leave.
He gave her the same reply. “When there’s nothing left for me to do here.”
Giving up for the moment, she went to work. When she returned, the crib was finished, and he was unpacking the boxes stacked against the wall. Diapers, clothes, and toys littered the floor. She could also see a diaper genie and something that looked suspiciously like a breast pump.
Talk about sexy.
She certainly couldn’t ask him to leave with her apartment in disarray. He made her a chicken dinner, and she coaxed him into talking about Atif. Afterward, she showered and went to bed.
He slept in the living room.
The next day, when she got home, she found the floor clear. Riyad was shirtless and muttering under his breath as he attempted to put a shelving unit together. Knowing that, once again, she couldn’t make him leave with half a piece of furniture all over her bedroom, she convinced him to sit with her after dinner so she could catch up on her television shows.
She went to bed, and before she fell asleep, she reached toward the empty side of the bed and wished he were lying there with her.
When she came home on Friday, her apartment was transformed. Everything she could possibly need for her baby was standing ready. A beautiful butterfly mobile hung above the crib that was filled with stuffed animals and a blanket monogrammed with Genevieve’s name. The new shelving unit held diapers, blankets, onesies, socks and mittens, powders, creams, and formula. Even a baby monitor was set up.
A stroller and car seat stood sentinel on either side of the front door.
As far as she could see, nothing remained for Riyad to do. They had dinner, and afterward, she stared at the couch. If he was leaving in the morning, she wanted him in her bed tonight, if for nothing else than to feel his warmth.
“Danielle?” he asked softly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I guess. I was thinking that you’re leaving in the morning, and I’m going to miss you.”
He cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. “I’m not leaving in the morning.”
“You said you’d be leaving when there was nothing left for you to do. I can’t think of a single thing that you need to do.”
“Oh, I have plenty left to do, Danielle.”
“Like what? I’m pretty sure this little girl is set until she learns to crawl. If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you hire someone to toddler-proof the place.” Grabbing a pillow, she pulled it against her chest and stared at him. What did he want from her?
He stared into her eyes, and Danielle was having a hard time figuring out his emotions. Regret? “I never slept with Shaia, Danielle. Atif ordered me to seduce her. He wanted me to believe that her lover was the head of the rebellion, but I think he knew how I felt about you, and he saw a way to throw me off guard. Even Shaia knew. I never touched her,” he said in a low voice.
Danielle closed her eyes. “Oh, Riyad. We don’t need to talk about this. I know you have responsibilities. I know that we never had a shot. You don’t have to explain or apologize. I know that you’ve been doing all of this because you feel bad, but it’s not necessary.”
He shook his head, insistent. “I’m not here to apologize. I’m not here because I feel bad.”
“Then what is this?”
Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips, and she flashed back to that first meeting. That charming smile. Those seductive eyes. It was nothing like the look he was giving her now. The warm gaze. The earnest look in his eyes.
Her heart hammered in her chest.
“I said a lot of things to hurt you, Danielle. Things I wish I could take back. I thought, because of that, words weren’t the way to go.”
“To go where?” she asked, confused.
“I let you go because I thought you would be happier, but I realized I would never be able to look at myself in the mirror if I didn’t at least try to show you how I felt. I wanted to show you that I want it all, Danielle. Husband. Father of your child. My family is more than happy to accept you and your daughter, but if you’re not comfortable with that, I’ll relinquish my title and live here with you. If you want my family to be our family, then you’re welcome to live in the palace. I couldn’t care less. I simply want to be with you.”
“Riyad….”
“I love you, Danielle. After Atif, I wasn’t sure I could trust myself, and some days I still feel that way, but I do know that I trust you, and I trust how I feel about you.” He put a finger to her lips. “You don’t have to make a decision tonight. I figured it might take more than three days to convince you that I’m ready, and I’m willing to put in as much work and time as possible.”
“Two minutes,” she whispered against the gentle touch of his finger.
“What?” he asked, taking his hand away.
“It took me two minutes after meeting you to know I wanted you. It took me two days of being with you to know I loved you. And it took me exactly two hours after the plane landed to realize I’d made a mistake in leaving you. You didn’t need to spend three days trying to prove to me that you are a good man.” She smiled, feeling tears prick at her eyes. “I already knew that. The only thing I needed from you was to hear that you love me.”
“I
love you, Danielle,” he vowed as he pulled her close. With one hand on her belly and the other framing her face, he leaned down and kissed her gently. “I’ll love you forever. Marry me, and I’ll show you with every breath I take that I love you.”
“I’ll marry you, Riyad. But only if you don’t get mad when I tell you you’re going to have to help me move all these things you’ve built and put together.” Her smile became a grin. “As much as I enjoy Gordon and Georgia, I may lose my mind if we continue to live next door to them.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “I’ve met them, and I wholeheartedly agree. Where would you like to live?”
“I was thinking that maybe we could live with a loving woman who is a wonderful grandmother, two men who are over-protective uncles, two women who are far too nosy for their own good, and some other children who might make excellent cousins.”
“Even though you’re used to being on your own?”
“I’m never going to be alone again, Riyad, and that’s a good thing.”
He brushed her hair behind her ear. “You’re going to make a wonderful mother, and I think that you’re also going to make a real difference in Haamas. And I’m pretty sure that we’re not going to need to move any of this stuff. Between my mother and sisters-in-law, there’s probably already a nursery waiting for your return.”
Danielle bit her lower lip. “I like the sound of that, but you’ve done so much work putting together my crib and shelves. I’d hate to see all of that go to waste,” she teased. “And I definitely liked watching you work with your hands.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find something else for me to do with my hands,” he growled, and he gently pulled her down until she was sitting on his lap on the couch. Pressing his lips against hers, he kissed her deeply.
Happier than she’d been in a long time, she told him exactly what she wanted him to do with his hands, and for the first time in her life, she realized that with Riyad, she was going to have everything she ever wanted.
End of The Sheikh’s Pregnant Love
The Karawi Sheikhs Series Book Three
PS: Do you love playboy billionaires? Then keep reading for exclusive extracts from The Sheikh’s Fake Fiancée.
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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
After losing her parents, American artist Elena set out on a trip around the world. Now, in the sultry heat of the Middle East, she’s having a hard time imagining returning to real life back home. But with half of her vacation still ahead of her, she and her friend are packed and ready to move onto their next destination when a chance encounter changes everything. A handsome stranger with a devilish grin catches Elena’s eye, but how could she know that an innocent favor is about to change her life forever.
Asim always relies on his intuition...with business and with women. Along with his brothers, he works hard to keep their company so profitable, but he prefers to live in the moment. With pressure mounting from his mother to settle down and marry a family friend, Asim needs an escape. He’s enchanted by the beguiling American beauty he sees at the café, and she couldn’t have come along at a better time. But when he asks her to be his fake fiancée, he never could have known she would change his life forever.
The two waste no time coming together, but when the spontaneity wears off and Elena learns of an unexpected complication, will Asim be ready to face the future?
Grab your copy of The Sheikh’s Fake Fiancée
(Azhar Sheikhs Book One) here.
* * *
EXCERPT
CHAPTER ONE
Elena sipped at the Turkish coffee, grimacing at the strange bitter flavor that, no matter how many times she ordered it in fumbling Arabic, just didn’t taste any better than the first twenty times.
She swallowed it down anyway—it’ll get easier; it’s part of the experience—and sighed hap-pily, enjoying the warm breeze caressing her on the balcony. This was their last morning in Beirut, Lebanon, before she and her friend Aubrey gallivanted onward to Europe. After six weeks on the road, backpacking and sightseeing and gawking and giggling, she found it hard to accept the fact that their trip was halfway over.
Which meant real life loomed just around the corner.
She brought the cup to her mouth again to take a sip but thought better of it. She smiled out at the azure Mediterranean Sea, watching the bustle and clamor of the street below. Cars honked, people filled the sidewalks, and street vendors proffered strange sacks in harsh voices. Gorgeous women strutted in high fashion, oversized sunglasses complementing inky black tresses. She had to pinch herself sometimes to remind herself this was real.
Her parents would have been thrilled to know she’d made it this far. To Lebanon, of all places. The Middle East, the farthest from home she’d ever ventured. Her heart tightened in the way it always did when reflecting on accomplishments since her parents’ passing, a mixture of pride and sadness. If only they could see her. Good lord, would they be proud of her. A fresh col-lege grad, seeing the world. Less than two months away from taking the leap into trying to make it on her own as an artist.
“Hey, girl.” Aubrey’s voice cut through Elena’s reverie. She turned to greet her friend, pushing aside the diaphanous drapes lining the balcony door to step inside.
“So, it turns out checkout is in half an hour,” Aubrey said, flopping onto the skinny twin bed. Elena set her coffee down on the small dresser by the balcony door. “Leaving here at noon was apparently a pipe dream. The sign on the reception desk made it sound like there were stern consequences for overstaying our reservation. Or maybe it was just a bad translation.”
“Shit.” Elena surveyed the explosion of clothes, the still-wet towel hanging on the back of the bathroom door.
“Yeah. We better get a move on.” Aubrey let a long sigh. “Although we could always re-serve an extra night here…”
Elena tutted. “No can do. We have a schedule to maintain.” She tapped an imaginary watch on her wrist. Who knew where they’d be if it weren’t for her rigid punctuality. If left to her own devices, Aubrey would probably still be in Jordan, lurking around the haunting caverns and mono-liths of Petra.
“I know, I know.” Aubrey sighed, rolling onto her side. “But seriously, not even an extra day?”
Elena leveled her with a look. “We paid for a ferry to Cyprus tonight.”
“You’re right.” Aubrey groaned, rolling off the bed. “Time to fill up Ol’ Lumpy.”
Elena smirked at the pet name for her backpack her friend had coined during their trip. The two made excellent travel partners, which didn’t surprise her because they’d also been excellent roommates in college. They’d been random roommates their freshman year, hit it off like long-lost twins, and had been inseparable ever since. If they had shared the same major, that would have been the only thing to make college better—but Aubrey’s degree in history only matched Elena’s major in fine arts in their mutual appreciation for very old art.
Elena gathered the loose sheets of paper from the small desk near the balcony door, the sketches she’d started outlining over the course of their trip. It seemed every other turn present-ed her with a new sight, a new mo
ment, a new hue to capture. She’d have enough painting mate-rial for a decade after this trip—and maybe, just maybe, it would turn into a lucrative series down the road. The only thing urging her homeward was the itchy desire to feel the acrid sting of paint thinner in the air as she started with a blank canvas.
If only there’d been a way to fit her easel, five canvases, and the entirety of her oil paint collection in this twenty-liter backpack. Like airport security would have let you through with the paint thinner.
“Elena, do you want these?” Aubrey held up a handful of postcards from the nightstand be-tween the two twin beds. Elena squinted, recognizing them as the postcards she’d bought to write to her parents.
“Yes, I need those!” She leaned forward to grab them, flipping one over to confirm the let-ter she’d begun.
Dear Mom & Pops,
Sometimes, it seems like writing these letters means I could actually send them, and maybe you’d receive them. Like any other traveling daughter experiencing the world. But I know when I get home you won’t be there. You’d think after three years I’d have gotten used to this a little bit more.
The postcard wasn’t finished, but that could be taken care of later, during their boat ride to the island. Writing letters she’d never send had been an unexpected project during the trip—somehow a therapy and a memento at the same time. They didn’t make her as sad as she might have thought. Rather, it made her feel even closer to them, especially as she embarked upon such new adventures as a freshly minted college graduate.
Elena organized all her papers and sketches into a small folder and then got to work stuffing her backpack. Leggings, tank tops, long sleeves—every manner of quick-drying, easily folded travel wear. Nothing spiffy, except for the one nice dress she’d brought in case of an emergency fancy outing. She still hadn’t worn it.
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