Sheikh's Fake Fiancee

by Jessica Brooke

  Jennifer stumbled and almost tripped into a chair.

  “Honey,” her mother said, “are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, resettling herself and reaching out to hold her younger sister’s hand. It wasn’t cold but it felt so tiny and frail in her own, and she’d have given anything she had if she could take her younger sister’s place.

  Anything.

  Her mom offered a hesitant smile before scooting to the bathroom, and as shallow as it seemed, Jennifer was glad. She needed a few minutes to absorb the shock of seeing her daughter so still and pallid. If she could just steel herself, gird herself against the crushing waves of sadness, then she could be the pillar of strength that her mother needed.

  Come on, Jennifer, get it together.

  Squeezing her sister’s hand, she also reached up and stroked Sydney’s soft, golden bangs back from her face.

  “You’re going to need a haircut soon, kiddo. You wake up from this and you’re going to hate us because your bob is so growing out. No, when. You are going to wake up from this,” she said, forcing the sadness out of her voice. “I’ll so kick your ass if you don’t.”

  There was no answer, of course, but sometimes she just had to treat Syd like the bratty little sister she could be.

  Just one hint of normalcy wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

  “I love you,” she said, kissing her sister’s forehead. “You have to come back to me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The next two weeks were the longest of her life. At first, Bahan called and e-mailed her daily. Jennifer sent those e-mails directly to spam, but once or twice she played the voice mails. He didn’t beg or sound desperate. A sheikh as commanding as Bahan Munir would never do that. But he did sound a bit scared, not for himself or their future, but for her and Syd. Jennifer texted him after the first week and promised she’d have Rose contact his secretary daily with updates and that, of course, he had complete permission to speak to the treatment team. She’d signed all the papers for that. But with her sister’s life at risk and their fight huge still lingering in her mind, she couldn’t speak to him.

  He checked in with Rose and the doctors every day and gave his best wishes and any extra funding that Sydney needed. He even stopped calling her, following her wishes.

  The thing about their fight that haunted her the most were his words. He had stated the truth. That had to be why it burned so deeply, because there was nothing she could do deep in her soul to tell herself he’d just made it up. She was scared. After her father’s and then Dustin’s betrayal, how could she not be? But this time she had struck first, and if Bahan hated her for all eternity, then Jennifer couldn’t blame him.

  Sighing, she picked her book back up and started to flip through the pages. Her sister had always loved Harry Potter. It had never been her cup of tea. Sure, she’d seen the movies. Who hadn’t? Still, it wasn’t something she liked reading, although Jennifer wished she had a magical wand right now. She would wave it and say a few words of Latin and then make everything better. Maybe Harry couldn’t solve all his problems like that—he certainly couldn’t banish Voldemort in one go—but she wondered if there were magic or a totem or anything that could just wake her sister up. God, she wished that much magic actually existed in the everyday world.

  “Well, let’s see. I think that he was about to fly in his first Quidditch match. Do you think it’s going to go alright?” she asked, winking at her sister and pretending for her own sake that poor Syd could react. As she focused on the words before her, she heard a knock on the doorframe. Looking up, she offered her broadest and most forced smile to her mother. “Hey, Mom, we’re managing just fine,” she said, wishing that Syd could reply and it wasn’t just the droning of her machines.

  “I think we need to talk, sweetheart,” she said, pulling a chair up next to Jennifer. “You’re miserable.”

  “How could anyone be happy? Dr. Singal says that she’s stable in the coma and she might recover, but he doesn’t know when or for certain.” Jennifer halted for a minute to take in a few deep breaths. It got harder as each day passed to keep her voice level and her smiley face up for her mother. “I just feel so awful.”

  Her mother leaned over and swept Syd’s bangs back from her face. “No, I understand all of that more than you could ever know.”

  “And that’s why I’m messing up even now. I should be handling the tough stuff so you don’t have to.”

  Her mom frowned back at her. “Oh, Jenny, you don’t really always feel that, do you?”

  She stiffened, not wanting to reveal too much, but she was also beyond exhausted. She just wanted to crawl into her bed and cry. Jennifer had spent weeks trying to be strong, and she couldn’t do it any longer. Maybe, in a way, she’d been strong since Syd was just a baby and her dad had left. It was too heavy a burden to carry any longer.

  “Sometimes,” she admitted. “It’s just that I feel all the time like you and Syd are my responsibility. I feel like since Dad left, I have to fix it.”

  “You don’t have to fix anything. Sweetie,” her mother said, leaning closer and stroking her cheek, “don’t you understand that I have to take care of you?”

  “But it’s just us and Dad left and Sydney was sick, and we all had to do the best we could. I just knew you were so upset for so long and working three jobs. Someone had to help.”

  “And you did. You’ve always been my good girl, but you don’t have to anymore.”

  “It just feels,” Jennifer started, her voice thick with emotion, “like everything gets pulled out from under us. You can’t trust guys. Dustin was a cheater and so was Dad. You can only rely on yourself, and I have to help you the best I can.”

  Her mom squeezed her shoulder. “No, honey. Sure, we help each other, but you never have to take care of me. You never have to feel like you’re the mom. We’re a team.”

  “I can try, but I just want you to be happy.”

  “But if you make yourself miserable and exhausted, then I’m not happy. Please, I can see the smile you’re trying to force for me. It’s okay to feel how you feel, to be scared for Sydney. I am too. But you don’t have to take the lead again. You don’t. And you’re wrong.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes, because not every man is untrustworthy. I know that you and Bahan had a fight, but he dotes on Sydney even now. He’s a good man. I…before Sydney got sick, I met a man out doing some errands in Frankfort. James and I have been dating a bit and exchanging texts. He’s sent me a card every few days I’ve been in New York.”

  “You still date?”

  “I went back to it once Sydney went to college. Some have been good and some bad, but there’s always that chance the next guy will be as thoughtful and kind as James. There are men as honorable as Bahan. You don’t close your heart off because off the bad ones. You can’t,” her mother said, emphasizing her point by sweeping Jennifer into a big hug.

  That was the final straw for her.

  The tears fell freely down her face and she felt her body shake as she sobbed. Her mom took her tightly and rocked her as she cried, letting out decades of frustration and not just about her struggle to stay stoic or the men who’d hurt her. No, it was more than that. It was all the worry for her sister and all the hatred she had turned inwards on herself, for her inability to love Bahan the right way. For being so stupid and cold as to push him away when her family should have been coming together to support each other.

  “Shh, sweetheart, just let it out.”

  “But Sydney…and then I shoved Bahan away. I…what if he never forgives me?”

  There was a loud beeping sound and both women turned around. The doctor rushed in with the nursing team and Jennifer’s heart felt as if it might bust through her chest. Her eyes grew wide with disbelief as the doctor pulled the tubes from her sister and helped Sydney as the girl opened her eyes. The nurses held their hands up as her now alert and thriving sister went through a basic battery of neu
rological tests. When she’d cleared everything and her vitals had been taken twice, the doctor asked to take her mom outside and explain all of the changes, and then the nurses stepped to the corner, giving her and her sister some privacy.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, the joy almost impossible to suppress as a genuine smile swept over her face.

  “My mouth is dry and I feel weird from the tubes,” her sister admitted. “I just…did I have my surgery already?”

  “No, baby,” she said, kissing her sister’s cheek. “Your sugar spiked and you were in a coma. Do you remember?”

  “I remember watching cheesy Christmas specials with Rose, and then I felt dizzy. Am I better?”

  They both turned to the nurses for clues.

  The taller nurse, the one with the Snoopy scrubs, nodded. “The sugar levels are normal and she reacted typically to all neurological tests. We’ll be able to put her back in her slot for the transplant.”

  “Great,” she said, hugging her sister tightly. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, but I have to admit I’m double confused.”

  “I bet that waking up is hard,” she said.

  “No, I started sort of coming out of it by hearing you and Mom talking. What’s going on? How did you push Bahan away?”

  “I just…you crashed and I was so worried.”

  “But he loves you.”

  “He married me to keep his kingdom. You know that.”

  “But he’s doing so much to help me anyway, and I saw the way he looked at you at the ceremony. That’s real, sis. Don’t let it go.”

  ***

  “You’re miserable, my son,” his father said, wheezing through his oxygen tubes.

  He looked up, startled to see his father rolling into his room with his portable tank on his lap. “Father, you should be resting.”

  The old man winked at him. “My son, soon I will be able to do nothing but rest. I’d like to be able to do some good works before my time.”

  “Don’t say that,” he said, stepping away from his desk. Who cared what the markets were doing when his father was awake and up to talking? “You have time yet.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, wheezing a bit. “Or my specialists may yet be right about my COPD. My point is that you’ve been miserable for weeks, ever since you came back from Paris without your blushing bride.”

  Bahan gritted his teeth and tried to push away his hurt and frustration with Jennifer. “She didn’t feel like she wanted to come back with me. In fact, she was quite vocal about it.”

  “Yet you dutifully check on her sister’s progress more than daily.”

  “How did you know?”

  His father smiled and shrugged. “I have my little birdies as well, Bahan. My question is, what are you going to do about it?”

  “She promised to stay married to me long enough to keep the kingdom intact.”

  “I don’t give a toss about the kingdom,” his father said.

  Bahan frowned. All of this had only started to keep his idiot cousin from ruling Yemen, because he was desperate to preserve his father’s legacy. How could the old ruler say now that it didn’t even matter? “But the country…”

  “I love our country, and I would loathe seeing my brother’s foolish offspring rule it. However, that doesn’t matter nearly as much to me as making sure my sons will be alright after I’m gone. I know that Fareed is strong.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Bahan said.

  “But,” his father continued, wheeling his chair back a bit, “you’re different. Fareed is happy with his figures and his building plans, but I know you have a heart that feels deeply. I wanted to see you with a wife because I wanted you to truly enjoy what I’ve had with your mother for decades.”

  “Jennifer was a means to an end. Nothing more,” he said, trying to be stern as he said it, as if it were no more interesting a fact than saying the sun set in the west. The words felt hollow on his tongue. From his father’s smirk, he was able to tell he had convinced no one at all. “What?”

  “I think that if she meant nothing, you’d have just referred to her as ‘Ms. Wilde’ or been disinterested. I know your heart, son, and I know that she’s captivated it.”

  He began to pace, no longer easy under his father’s scrutiny. “Maybe so but she does not want me.”

  The older man shook his head. “Then, my son, you merely have to convince her. You’re a good planner, just figure out how to win her back.”

  “But…”

  “I know you can.”

  With that, his father wheeled back out of the office, leaving Bahan dumbfounded.

  Chapter Twelve

  She had Rose call Bahan’s secretary the next day, but her husband’s assistant was sorry to report he’d flown to New York on urgent business concerning his property by Central Park and would be unavailable until he was out of meetings the next day. When she’d heard that, Jennifer’s heart fell. Part of her felt that it could be a very logical explanation, but at the same time, she was terrified that Bahan had enough. After all, in under a month, her sister would have her transplant and then Bahan had no reason to check in with her family at all until two years passed and he could serve her divorce papers formally without fear of losing his kingdom.

  I couldn’t have pushed him away, could I have?

  That gnawing fear was something she tried to push out of her head as she left her job and started for the street corner to hail a cab. Sydney was still in the hospital and she’d promised her sister that she’d bring the cheesy hats and glasses and confetti for tonight’s New Year’s celebration. She’d been let off at two and needed to get over to the hospital before the streets were impossibly jammed with traffic, if they weren’t already. The last thing she expected was for a limo to be parked out front and the driver, a swarthy man with a dark beard, to be holding a sign with her last name on it.

  “I…do I know you?”

  “My name is Dawan, my sheikha. I’ve been sent by Bahan. He’d like your opinion on something in his emporium property off Fifth. That’s all I know, and please don’t take this as being too forward, but I would like it if we could hurry. I hate to disappoint my ruler.”

  She frowned, completely unsure of where any of this was leading, but she didn’t want poor Dawan to be penalized for her own confusion. Nodding briskly at him, she slipped into the back and waited patiently as they navigated the crowded streets to the shopping complex her husband had been developing all this time. When they pulled up, she pushed the call button between her seat and the front.

  “What do I do now?”

  “He said to enter and turn left into the store.”

  “Which store?”

  “You’ll know which one he said, my sheikha. Good luck!”

  Furrowing her brows but truly intrigued, she hurried out of the limo and entered the complex. There were a variety of stores in the mall (though that seemed too crass a word for the shopping complex). Just on the first floor to her right were Gucci, Coach, and Prada. To her left was a massive, half-stocked Tiffany storefront. Standing in the middle of its display window and smiling broadly was Bahan, with a large Tiffany box in his hand.

  She rushed through the door to hug him, infinitely thankful that he swept her up into his embrace. “I…I thought you were mad at me. I assumed your secretary was trying to blow me off. To be honest, I wouldn’t blame you, not in the least.”

  He pulled away from her, his amber eyes still seeming to burn with his need for her. “My wild one, I could never hate you. I can be frustrated as hell, don’t get me wrong on that account, but I can’t hate you.”

  “I never should have pushed you away.”

  “Can I ask what changed your mind? Was it only because Sydney is better?”

  She was about to ask him how he knew, but of course, Bahan still kept up with all her sister’s updates. Dr. Singal must have told him. “No, it’s not just because things are better. I promise I’m going to try and be a real wife
.”

  “Then what changed?” he asked, pulling away fully and playing with the box in his hand. “I was hopeful you’d come but wasn’t sure you would.”

  “Dawan played me, didn’t he? There’s no way he was actually going to be punished, was he?”

  “No, never, but it did get you here,” he countered, flashing white teeth at her.

  “I’d have come anyway. I wanted to see you. I needed you.”

  “And I’m grateful to have you back, but even I need to know why. Call it satisfying my curiosity.”

  She nodded and pushed long strands of hair out of her face and eyes. As intense as his gaze was, she wanted to meet it, wanted to give him all of her. “I was engaged once before.”

  “I see.”

  “And he cheated on me with some cheap cocktail waitress. I try never even to think about Dustin, but you’re the first guy I’ve been close to since then. I keep thinking that every guy is just like him or my dad. I was so scared that you were going to do the same. So, yes, I was trying to avoid being hurt because I’ve been burned so many times.”

  “Now?”

  “Mom told me I had to make a choice, that I couldn’t just be scared my whole life. I don’t want to be, and damn it, I missed you so much, my sheikh,” she said, her tone wry.

  He stepped forward again and shifted his box to one hand as best as he could. Reaching out, he stroked her cheek. “I missed you too, my wife,” he said.

  “Then what do you have for me?” she asked, the playfulness returning to her tone as she realized he really was going to take her back.

  Bahan smiled, a mysterious grin that reminded her of the Mona Lisa they’d seen together. “Please take a look. I had this location make it special for me.”

  Frowning and now doubly curious, she picked up the box and tore into it. Then she looked back to him as she pulled out a small charm made in the shape of a padlock yet coated with thick Tiffany diamonds.