by Marian Tee
My Arabian Billionaire
Marian Tee
Contents
About the book…
Also by Marian Tee
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
Epilogue
Dear Reader,
About the Author
Also by Marian Tee
About the book…
Years and years from now, it would go down as one of the saddest days in the kingdom’s history when the crying, trembling figure of their queen was seen at the gates of the palace, performing the public ritual of ending her marriage to the king.
News traveled fast, and the area was soon swarming with people – reporters who were out to sensationalize this unprecedented sight, gawking guests who were titillated by the hint of scandal in the air, and men like Mahmud, who didn’t hesitate to sow seeds of discord to further their cause.
Terrible accusations began to take shape, broadcasted in viral headlines---
Queen Harper publicly disavowing marriage to travel alone and leave Ramil?
Princess Safiya, daughter of Sheikh Mahmud, to be Ramil’s next queen?
Ramilians to be fined if found offering aid to Queen Harper?
Later, there would also be stories of loyalty – of how secret enemies of the sheikh had incited a rabble, and of the queen’s most trusted guards coming to her defense. Witnesses had sworn they heard the queen tearfully begging her loyal guards not to endanger themselves for her, but still they had shed blood for her, their loyalty to her unwavering.
You will always be our queen.
And when the tide seemed to swell in the favor of the sheikh’s enemies, there came the thundering, ground-crushing sound of the army’s footsteps, led by the king and his vassals. They fought their way to the queen’s side, infallible in their power, strength, and valor –
It was a breathtaking sight, witnesses from that night were known to avow. But what they would never ever forget was the sight of their king finding his queen---
Only to let her go---
You are free, my love.
Enjoy reading Marian Tee’s first sheikh romance – set in the desert kingdom of Ramil, this epic, no-cliffhanger love story is destined to break your hearts and sweep you off your feet.
Copyright 2017 by Streak Digital Publishing
All rights reserved. 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.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
Also by Marian Tee
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Chapter One
A throng of well-dressed guests streamed inside the vast, opulent reception hall of the palace, all of them unable to help but marvel at the sheer magnificence of their surroundings. It didn’t matter that many of them weren’t visiting the palace for the first time. It was always an awe-inspiring sight, with its lavish use of gold and marble and the elaborate mosaic artwork embedded on the floors. Everything that could be gilded was gilded, everything that could be sewn with gold thread was sewn so. Majestic columns lined the imposing length of the hallway, and in between them, ancient tapestries alternated with ornately framed mirrors in adorning the walls.
Once in a while, most of the guests would pause before these mirrors, primping and taking selfies, with none of them bothering to check if their reflections were the result of a two-way mirror – which it was. A secret passageway running parallel to the hall afforded the Emir Sheikh and his most trusted vassals to study their guests at leisure, something they rarely cared to do…until tonight.
Time was running out for Khalil Al-Atassi, the newly crowned king of Ramil. If he didn’t find himself a bride tonight –
“At least a hundred eligible women must have walked past us already,” Malik remarked with a frown. “Has not one of them truly met your approval?” Tall, lean, and handsome like his cousins, he was the youngest of the Emir Sheikh’s vassals at twenty-nine but more than equal with them in experience.
“Ease up, Malik,” his older brother murmured. “The king is searching for our future queen, not just any woman.” A powerfully built man, Altair was made more dangerous looking because of the jagged scar on his face. It ran from below his left eyelid all the way down to the edge of his face, a constant reminder – and warning – that before being appointed as Ramil’s Commander of Armed Forces, he had once been the kingdom’s deadliest assassin.
Malik only shrugged. “I think it’s no different when buying a mare. You just look for someone with good lineage, the ability to breed, and how docile and trainable she is.”
“Not everyone enjoys the company of horses the way you do,” Tarif said in amusement. Of the five Al-Atassi sheikhs, only Tarif was of pure Ramil blood, and yet he was also the least bound to the kingdom’s ancient traditions. Instead, he was renowned for championing technological advancements in the kingdom and eliminating the cultural barriers that once isolated Ramil from the rest of the world. Despite all these, however, the media still insisted on portraying Tarif as nothing but a shallow playboy who only happened to be Ramil’s Minister of Foreign Affairs because he was one of the Emir Sheikh’s cousins.
“Considering the fact that our future queen is the only woman Khalil can have sex with for the rest of his life, I’d say he’s earned all the right to take his time in choosing.” There was a slight pause just before Tarif glanced at the Emir Sheikh with a wince. “I don’t envy you at all for that, by the way. The thought of having to fuck just one woman---”
There was a pause, and then the other sheikhs winced as well.
Khalil only shrugged. “It is what it is.” His kingdom meant the world to him, the only thing that had given him purpose. He was a king first, a hot-blooded man second. As he would unhesitatingly offer his life for Ramil, the need to marry and remain faithful to his future queen was of little consequence to him.
“Exactly what kind of woman are you looking for anyway?” Rayyan, the kingdom’s Minister of Finance, asked bluntly. With ash blond hair and blue-gray eyes, he was the most foreign-looking in the group, but like Tarif, Rayyan’s looks and mixed bloodline were completely deceiving. He was the quintessential Ramilian male, and women to him were either a form of personal property or tools for negotiation.
“I want someone the kingdom would need and be happy with,” the king said simply.
“That automatically rules out eighty percent of tonight’s female guests,” Malik said cynically.
That was true, Khalil thought, which was why he was even willing to search for his future queen outside the kingdom. “A pure Ramilian would have been ideal, but at this point, I’d be willing to settle for someone who at least understands and appreciates our ways.”
“What about fucking? Don’t you at least want someone you’d enjoy fucking?” When Khalil merely shrugged, Tarif’s eyebrow arched in surprise. “You are serious? You do not care about sexual compatibility at all?”
“Not all is as sex-crazed as you are,” Altair said with a shrug.
“Same goes for you, old boy,” Tarif responded lazily. “Not everyone can live like a monk like you do.”
Khalil started to speak when something – someone – caught his eye. Her head was bowed, her dark hair falling like a curtain that covered her face. She was showing her purse for inspection, and his gaze narrowed, the sheikh waiting for the woman to turn his way.
Finally, the woman stepped past the security sensor gates, and when she looked up---
Ah.
Harper Griffiths.
It had been a year since the sheikh had last seen her, and she still looked just as he remembered. Raven-black hair that was long and silky straight, flashing green eyes, and a voluptuous body made more alluring by the type of dresses that she liked to wear: feminine, conservative, but just tight enough to make a man fantasize about what was underneath.
Unlike most women of his acquaintance, Harper had never tried to take advantage of her friendship with him. In fact, Harper would always strongly insist that he was not a friend at all, and in all the years she had visited the palace, not once had she granted an interview about him.
Harper Griffiths, the sheikh thought again.
And this time, an idea slowly took shape in his mind.
When he glanced up, he saw that all four of his cousins were gazing knowingly at him.
“So this is why you have been as picky as that girl from the fairytale,” Altair mocked.
“Goldilocks,” Tarif slotted in. “Do you seriously not know that?” And then to Khalil, he said with a sigh, “You could have saved us all the worry by telling us you were simply waiting for your favorite toy.”
“I agree with your choice.” Malik’s tone was approving.
“And since we all know how you prefer horses to women, I’d say that’s a huge compliment, coming from you.” Rayyan’s tone became musing. “It’s a pity she’s not even of noble blood, but still, I can see the advantages of marrying someone like her---”
“Enough.” Khalil’s tone was exasperated. “I haven’t even said anything.”
The other sheikhs stared at him.
And then Altair said simply, “You didn’t have to.”
“We’re not blind,” Tarif said with a roll of his eyes.
Malik gestured to the woman who had just walked past them, her arm looped around her father’s. “And that’s her, isn’t it?”
“Harper Griffiths,” Rayyan murmured. “But the real question here is – do you think she will agree to marry you?”
“You’re vain as ever, Dad.”
“And you’re too young to be a nag.”
Harper let out an unladylike grunt, the sound making her father frown, which she pretended not to notice. The truth was, she didn’t really think Howard was vain. Rather, he was an immensely proud man, and even though it had been almost a decade since he had left the army, he was still unable to fully accept having to
limp for the rest of his life, much less make use of a walking stick.
And especially not now, Harper thought.
Usbue Min Al-Abtal or Heroes’ Week was one of the kingdom’s most important holidays. As Ramilians took pride in their dedication to history, the nation and its people always went all out in celebrating the lives of its heroes, both known and unsung. Her father, having saved the life of a beloved Ramilian general, was one of those heroes, and it was for this reason that one week each year, Harper and her father flew from their tiny, government-provided home in Syracuse, Nebraska to the kingdom of Ramil.
Peeking at Howard’s face, Harper saw her father’s slight grimace, and her lips pressed together in an effort to hold her tongue. Howard might be willing to use his walking stick back at home, but never here.
Not in the one place he could pretend he was what he used to be, and he was still able to do what he loved.
“Stop staring at me like you’re thinking I’m about to keel over.” The words came out in a low, grumbling tone even as Howard’s gaze remained straight ahead.
“You’re wrong,” Harper answered, also without turning in Howard’s direction. “I’m not just thinking it. I’m waiting for it to happen, and it will happen if we don’t at least stop and give your leg a rest.” With that said, she forcibly dragged her father to the closest vacant cocktail table.