by Leslie North
“The elders won’t like it if you divorce.”
“The elders will have to live with that outcome,” Kishon said over the twisting feeling in his gut. “I’ll show them the ideal strong and traditional leader for a period of time, if that’s what they want.”
Chakir narrowed his eyes. “You like her enough to pretend to be married to her?”
“I do,” admitted Kishon. “I’ve become quite fond of her over the past six months.” He had to swallow a laugh. Quite fond didn’t begin to describe how he felt about last night. “I’m not altogether interested in committing for a lifetime anyway, so this is a beneficial solution for everyone involved. After you and Hannah are married, we’ll quietly divorce, and I can continue on with my royal duties.”
“You could just wait,” Chakir said softly. “It’s okay to wait for the perfect woman. Someone who will love you for the person you are.”
Kishon scoffed. “Please. What king manages to have that? Not one.” He pulled the sheet up higher over his waist. “I’d rather marry someone who can guarantee a pleasant marriage and equally pleasant separation.” His heart twinged at the thought of separating from Chloe, but that was probably because they’d spent the previous night together. He’d get over it sooner or later, and likely sooner, if the parade of women in his past was any indication.
“Am I hearing you correctly? You’re choosing this woman based on her ability to give you a nice divorce?” Chakir shook his head. “I knew you had reservations about settling down, but that’s…that’s serious.”
“I’m a serious man.”
His brother laughed. “So serious. Tell me, how long did you flirt with her before you claimed to be her fiancé?”
“Six months. I waited an appropriate interval,” teased Kishon. “Why? Do you think I rushed it?”
“I think you should rush now. I do want to get married, and when a person wants this, it’s excruciating to wait.”
“How will you ever survive?” said Kishon.
“I might not,” grumbled Chakir. “Are you really going to propose a fake engagement? A fake wedding?”
“I don’t see why not.” The pieces were all falling into place in Kishon’s mind. “If we do, Chloe’s dreams come true—she gets to travel around the world and paint. Your dream comes true. And I buy myself a little leeway with the elders. Everyone wins.”
“Yes, yes. How could this go wrong?” Chakir said wryly.
“It couldn’t,” proclaimed Kishon. “It’s not possible for this to have a bad outcome. Everyone is getting exactly what they want.” Even as he said the words, he knew they weren’t exactly true. Something had shifted. Kishon wasn’t willing to admit it out loud, however.
Chakir burst out laughing. “I’m nearly convinced,” he said. “Keep me updated, brother.”
The video chat disconnected. Kishon let the phone fall onto the comforter and let himself fall back against the pillows. He was convinced, even if Chakir wasn’t. Now all he had to do was find Chloe and convince her.
4
Chloe unlocked the door to her shoebox of an apartment feeling lighter than sunshine, lighter than air. The sex was most of it. It had been so good. It had been great. It had been…life changing.
She giggled to herself. Life-changing sex? Really? Really. Kishon was the most skilled partner she’d ever had, and the only partner she could banter and joke with during sex. It had been an incredible night.
Chloe closed the door behind her. It felt oddly final to shoot the deadbolt. As long as she’d been painting, she’d had the sense that the morning had been a continuation of her night with Kishon. Now that the door was firmly closed on that, she had to face the rest of her life.
Chloe felt like she’d been doused in ice water as she took in the tiny studio, with her full-size bed wedged underneath the window and the most spacious corner dedicated to her painting. She didn’t keep much of her art in the apartment—not since her friend Mark had opened a gallery and let her display her pieces, when she had new ones. This morning alone, she’d dropped off two paintings—one of the reflecting pool and one of the White House. She’d been on fire with creativity and ability this morning.
The sex was part of that, too.
But crap. What was she going to do about the rent? She had enough savings to write the next rent check, but it was going to be tight. Really tight.
“I never should have bought those new brushes,” she mumbled under her breath. Chloe couldn’t just buy new brushes whenever she wanted. She’d allowed herself to get comfortable before she really had a safety net. And now, with no steady paycheck…
Her heart thumped painfully against her ribs. Not only did she not have a steady paycheck, she wasn’t going to be seeing Kishon anymore. He was probably already on a plane back to Hamari. He didn’t have anything to worry about. Not really. He had more money than God. Chloe had no idea what that was like.
Well…she had some idea what that was like. She closed her eyes and conjured up the hotel suite she’d left just that day. Her romp in the sheets with Kishon already seemed the distant past. But the thread count…oh, it had been higher than anything she’d felt her in life. Growing up, her sheets had only been soft because her mother bought all of them at Goodwill. Thread count had nothing to do with it.
“Okay,” she said out loud. “First things first, I need to find a new job.” She felt a pang at the loss of the Highball. It cut straight through her heart, thinking of Kishon sitting at the bar and someone else on the other side. At least he was leaving today. No—that wasn’t better. Having him halfway across the world wasn’t better. “Second things second,” she sang. “Don’t get hung up on a king.” Fine. She wouldn’t let herself mope about it. But she had wanted to tell him about her latest paintings, and listen to his deep, rich voice tell her about the world he’d seen.
Real first things first—a shower. She hadn’t dared spare the time for one this morning. The situation wasn’t dire, since she and Kishon had showered during the night. But she’d been standing out in the sun, and now she had the panic sweats.
No more panic sweats.
The noise on the street outside kicked up—a honk, followed by another. Was it garbage day already? The weeks were going by too fast. Well, the people outside could get over it. The truck would be gone in a matter of minutes.
Chloe hopped into the shower and tried not to think of Kishon as she shampooed her hair and ran her washcloth over her still-sensitive skin. He’d been so gentle with her under the stream of water last night…until he wasn’t exactly gentle anymore. She loved how he handled her when both of them were on the verge of losing control. It wasn’t rough, but he was firmly in command.
She slipped her hand between her legs, right there under the water, and worked up an orgasm.
That was better.
Chloe dressed and toweled off her hair, then stood in front of the little mirror by her kitchen—an odd place for a mirror, but it was glued to the wall—to do her makeup. When she’d been stressed out as a teenager, her mom had always told her to look her best and the rest would follow. That wasn’t necessarily true, as Chloe had found out, but it would help a little.
It was still so loud outside. Was the garbage truck stuck? Having some kind of garbage emergency?
The knock at the door was so forceful that it rattled the hinges and scared the crap out of her. Chloe dropped her eyeshadow and caught it just before it hit the floor, banging her head on the wall in the process. She hissed in pain, rubbing at her forehead. Was something going on? She wandered over to her bed, trying to walk it off, and that was when she looked out the window.
Her heart nearly stopped.
Paparazzi swarmed the street outside. They wore their usual uniform of T-shirts and hoodies and carried cameras with giant lenses. Twenty of them, maybe thirty. She backed slowly away from the window. What was happening?
Another thundering knock at the door froze her in place. Her instinct was to hide.
&
nbsp; “Chloe? It’s me.”
The voice from the other side of the door melted her fears like an ice cube on a hot summer day. Kishon. Chloe didn’t dare to hope. She ran on tiptoe over to the door and looked through the peephole.
And then she scrambled for the deadbolt and threw open the door. “Hi,” she said, her voice weirdly high and breathless. “Kishon. Hi.” This was crazy. Him, standing here? She discreetly dropped her hand to her leg and pinched. Not a dream.
Kishon wasn't alone. Five men surrounded him in a tight semicircle, each of them…armed. “Chloe,” he said, and desire kindled low in her belly. “May I come in?”
“Of course, of course. Come in.” She stepped back to let him in. He scanned the room, then looked over his shoulder. “Wait here.”
“We need to clear the room, Sheikh Kishon.”
“Consider it cleared.” He pushed the door shut behind him and looked Chloe in the eye. “How are you? Have they bothered you yet?”
“The paparazzi? No, I—” Oh, holy crap. They were here for her. “I didn’t realize they were here for me.” There wasn’t enough air in the room. “They’re here for me?”
“We made the news.” Kishon lifted both hands, palms up. “Our engagement is being taken as truth by all the major outlets.”
She swallowed hard. “Aren’t you—aren’t you supposed to be on a plane right now?”
He shook his head, amusement lighting his eyes. “In light of the situation, I thought it would be best if we had one more conversation.”
“About?”
“About getting married.”
There were footsteps in the hall, and raised voices. The building was not meant to play host to this many people at once. If they broke fire code, Chloe was going to be in trouble. She wrenched her attention back to the matter at hand. “Married?”
“Yes. I need to help my brother marry the love of his life, and I also need to prove to my tribal council that I’m a strong, traditional leader. A marriage is the only thing they’ll settle for. This is no small thing in Hamari.”
Chloe saw in his eyes how important it was and took it in with a shock. He was a big deal. He was a huge deal. The noise level outside kicked up a notch. “But I—I’m not cut out for that.”
“You’re already my fiancée.” The smile on his face heated her down to the core. “And if you do this for me, I’ll make it worth your while.”
“How?”
“I’ll fund a trip around the world, and when we separate, I’ll leave you with a generous allowance. You won’t have to worry anymore.”
It took a moment for this to sink in. “And all you want me to do is marry you?”
He stepped closer, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “I want you to come to Hamari with me, marry me, and then act as my wife until after the dust from my brother’s wedding settles. In return, your dreams can come true. As many stops as you want. As many countries as you want. As many paintings as you want. Name it, and it’s yours.”
This was….insane. It couldn’t possibly be reality. And even if it was, there had to be some enormous catch that she wasn’t seeing. Chloe felt off-balance standing in her own kitchen, which was also her living room and bedroom.
How could she turn it down?
She backed up, trying to get some room to breathe. Kishon was so sexy that he raised the temperature of any room he was in, and this one was too small for his presence. “Okay, I—”
“Come here.” He took her by the elbow and steered her away from the bed, standing close. “The cameras can see you if you’re standing next to the bed.”
She didn’t ask how he knew that. Chloe buried her face in her hands. “I want people to see my art, not inside my apartment.”
“I’m not sure they’ll stop trying to look in your window in the near future,” Kishon said, an easy smile on his face. “In the meantime, let me save you. Let me give you what I can.”
“What you can give me could solve any problem,” she said, and the instant the words were out of her mouth, she knew it was true. At the very least, it could solve this one. Chloe’s skin felt too tight, too sensitive, and the crowd of people outside seemed to be closing in more every second. Her heart was in her throat. Get out, it said. Get out. “All right,” she said in a rush. “I’ll be your pretend wife. For now, I only have one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“That we leave today.”
Kishon laughed, and Chloe thought that sound could make her happy every day for the rest of her life. “I accept your proposal,” he said. “Now, pack a bag. It’s time to go.”
5
Skyscrapers.
Dubai was nothing but skyscrapers against a sky so blue and clear that Chloe thought she was still dreaming. She rubbed at her eyes and looked out the plane window again. Nope. Not dreaming.
She’d fallen asleep at some point during the flight. Kishon had spent most of it working, making phone call after phone call, and after a while his voice had lulled her into a deep relaxation.
And now they were fifteen minutes out from Dubai.
“Good morning.” She turned to find him sitting on the sofa in the private plane, a travel mug of coffee in his hand. Even the mug looked high-end. It gleamed. She wouldn’t have been surprised to find that it was gold-plated.
But the real prize was the man who held it.
“Hi,” she said, suddenly conscious of the fact that she was still wearing the black slacks and shirt she’d worn for her bartending gig. “Sorry if I slept too long.”
“No such thing,” said Kishon. “It would be a little awkward to have to carry you off the plane, but I’d do it.”
She stretched and yawned. “I’m flattered. And I really need…” Chloe cast about for her bag. She’d packed a giant old backpack from college with everything she thought she’d need on the plane. It rested on the seat next to hers and weighed a ton. Her laptop. Her e-reader. The slim metal box she kept her vital records in. But…no clothes.
“What do you need? Ask, and it’s yours.”
“My clothes,” she said softly. “I could have sworn I packed clothes, and…and my toothbrush. I left my toothbrush.” Chloe could feel the color draining from her cheeks. “My bank account—”
“—is of no concern to us,” Kishon cut in. She snapped her gaze back to his. “It’s of no concern, Chloe. I can get you anything you need. Come with me.”
It was so sexy, how in charge he was. Chloe was used to getting through life by sheer brute force. Following Kishon to the back of the plane without a moment’s hesitation was a welcome change of pace.
He’d shown her the bathroom when they first boarded. It was full size, with a far nicer shower than anywhere she’d ever lived. “This drawer is for you.” Kishon pulled open a drawer next to the sink. “It should have enough to get you by.” He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. “Take a few minutes to freshen up. There are some outfits in the armoire in the bedroom.”
Then he left, as if he knew she needed a little time without any prying eyes. The paparazzi had been an ordeal. Being trapped inside while they took pictures of her apartment through the curtains was one thing. Going out to the car at the curb was another. They’d been surrounded by the guards, Chloe tucked under Kishon’s arms, and still it had left her short of breath.
Now she was alone in a room—on an airplane—selecting a wrap dress in a green jewel tone that was nicer than anything Chloe had ever owned. It was one of ten similar outfits in the armoire.
No crowd greeted them when they stepped off the plane, going down the stairs into a waiting SUV. Kishon gave the driver directions in Arabic while Chloe stared out the window, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. They were in Dubai. She was with a king. She had a thousand questions, but when she opened her mouth to ask one, she saw that Kishon was swiping and tapping rapidly through his phone. He must have felt her looking, because he glanced up.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his k
nockout smile throwing her for another loop. “I have one more call to make, and then I’ll be all yours. It’s business.” He shot her an apologetic look and dialed.
It left a strange taste in her mouth, that phone call. But why? Chloe shouldn’t expect Kishon to actually be a doting fiancé. And anyway, she should keep her focus where it belonged—on soaking up the sights and painting the city. It was an enormous, overwhelming gift to be able to do this. Expecting any more from Kishon was only being selfish.
He hung up his phone only as they were pulling up in front of a shopping mall as big as a palace. The mall was something special—it looked like a modern art installation, only one that displayed stores instead of art. Her pulse kicked up. “We’re shopping?”
“We are,” he said, taking her hand in his. “And making some changes to my security team.”
The moment they stepped out of the SUV, a man in a dark suit jogged up to Kishon and slapped him on the back. “Congratulations on the engagement,” he said.
“Oh, stop.” Kishon clasped the man’s arms, then turned back to Chloe. “This is my cousin Matek. He’s head of security for the royal family. This time, he stayed back with Chakir, but now that the stakes are higher, he’ll be with us. Matek, this is Chloe. My fiancée.”
Matek had a firm handshake and a nice smile, and he ran point as they were escorted into the mall. The security team had doubled since they took off. Chloe didn’t know why until they were fully inside. The men had cleared a path for them all the way to a designer store that Chloe had only seen in magazines.
Kishon greeted a woman inside with a kiss to both cheeks. “My fiancée, Chloe Sanderson,” he said, and this time she did feel like a fiancée. It sent a strange shiver of pleasure down her spine.