The Sheikh's Bride Bet

by Holly Rayner

  Raffaele opened her door himself, not waiting on the driver, and when Maggie stepped out, he gave her a warm hug. She hugged him back, thankful that he seemed just as excited to see her as she was him.

  “Come on, let’s get you on board,” Raffaele said, picking up two of her bags with one hand and placing the other on the small of her back to guide her towards the steps up to the door of the jet.

  When she was on board, he went back to the car to help the driver get the rest of her things. Maggie looked around the plane. She’d never flown before, so she wasn’t the best judge of planes, but this definitely looked like the lap of luxury.

  A steward stepped out of a galley at the back of the plane and asked what she would like to drink.

  Maggie wasn’t sure how to answer, but then Raffaele’s voice from behind her said, “Could we get two mimosas, please?”

  Maggie turned and Raffaele lifted a shoulder. “If that’s okay with you?” She nodded and continued looking around the cabin. He added, “It will be a few more minutes while the pilots finish preparation for takeoff.”

  Maggie realized he was watching her, and she gave him an uncertain smile. The steward came back into the cabin carrying a tray with two tall glasses and set each of the glasses on a table, then disappeared back into the galley at Raffaele’s nod.

  A minute later, the co-pilot stepped back into the main cabin.

  “Sir, we’re ready to take off. If you will please take your seats?”

  Raffaele nodded. “Thank you,” he said and then looked at Maggie.

  He pointed toward two seats facing each other across the beautifully set table on the right side of the plane where the steward had left the glasses.

  “Why don’t we sit? We can move around once we reach cruising altitude, but for now, it’s best to get comfortable.”

  “Comfortable,” Maggie said, almost to herself. “Sure.”

  She sat in the seat facing forward and poked at a small vase filled with fresh flowers, realizing it was attached to the table.

  “Is everything all right?” Raffaele asked her.

  Maggie smiled tensely. “Everything’s fine.”

  Raffaele raised his eyebrows in disbelief and Maggie sighed.

  “Okay, I’m nervous. I’ve never flown before,” she admitted.

  Raffaele smiled at her. He carefully bent over her and picked up the ends of a seatbelt.

  He waved the metal buckle at her and said, “I don’t always use this, which, honestly, drives the crew crazy. But I think you might feel safer with it on.”

  He fit the two ends together with a snap and stood, then rested a hand on her shoulder.

  “I promise, this flight crew is the best and the jet is top of the line. You have nothing to worry about.”

  Raffaele sat across from her and buckled his own seatbelt. He reached for one of the tall champagne glasses and handed it to Maggie. “Here. It’s not a flight on a private luxury jet unless you start the flight off with a mimosa.”

  Maggie raised an eyebrow as she took the glass. “Is that written down somewhere?”

  Raffaele chuckled. “It is indeed. There’s a royal prince handbook, and it’s in chapter six? No, wait, chapter seven.”

  Maggie didn’t even notice the plane taxiing down the runway as she laughed. She took a drink as Raffaele took a glass of his own.

  “What else is in this handbook?” she asked.

  Raffaele tilted his head. “Well, there’s a whole chapter on bowing. And another one on balls. Oh, and of course, one on crowns.”

  Maggie nodded thoughtfully. “Is there a troubleshooting section? Like what to do when your date leaves her glass slipper on the stairs?”

  Raffaele laughed. “Actually, that’s in the Frequently Asked Questions section. You’d be surprised at how many young women lose their shoes when they come to the palace for a ball.”

  Maggie grinned at him and Raffaele grinned back. She thought for a moment that she could just stare at him and smile all day and probably not get tired of it, but she shook herself out of it.

  “So, what do I need to know to cook for the royal family?”

  Raffaele tilted his head.

  “Our royal chef and steward will walk you through any particular conventions, like how the King is served, as well as any traditional dishes you’d like to add to the menu.”

  Maggie nodded. “Chef Luis and I have been emailing. Do you want me to include anything traditional on the menu?”

  Raffaele thought about it. “I’d rather you cook what you want.”

  Maggie prodded him a little with a question. “Is there a favorite food or something you traditionally have on your birthday?”

  Raffaele smiled. “Honey rings. They’re this doughnut-like pastry made with honey, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. Kind of like our version of baklava. I could eat those all day.”

  Maggie raised an eyebrow. “So, you’ve got a sweet tooth?”

  Raffaele held up his finger and thumb a tiny distance apart. “Just a little one.”

  Maggie laughed. “Noted. What else should I know about your family? Except for you, I’ve never spent any time with royalty before.”

  Raffaele waved a hand.

  “Just be you. As an American, you’re not expected to bow or curtsy. Generally speaking, members of the royal family won’t shake hands when introduced, though most of my cousins do. My uncle and aunt should be addressed as ‘Your Majesty’ or sir and ma’am. My father is a prince royal, and should be addressed as ‘Your Highness.’”

  Maggie sighed and leaned back in the seat.

  “I feel like I should have studied something before this trip.”

  “If you forget, just give them a big smile and your best Southern sweet-talk. They’ll be charmed,” Raffaele said.

  Maggie laughed softly. “I hope so.”

  “I will warn you, we’re not a huge family, but we more than make up for it in presence.”

  “Ah, that I understand. It sounds like my family.”

  “What was it like growing up in New Orleans?”

  Maggie smiled as she curled her legs underneath her, getting more comfortable.

  “Lots of tradition and history. Everything has a story. My parents were really active in the community, so I got to know all the different parts of the city as a kid.”

  “Tradition and history…that sounds familiar,” Raffaele said. “What are your parents doing now?”

  “They’re still active in the community, but since they moved outside the city, it’s just a different community. But they taught me that family is important, to give back, and to work hard.”

  Raffaele nodded. “My family is the same way.”

  A soft chime sounded and Raffaele unbuckled his seatbelt. “That sound means we’re at our cruising altitude. You can walk around if you like.”

  Maggie shook her head. “I’m good right here.”

  All of a sudden, she could barely keep her eyes open.

  “Sorry, I didn’t sleep too well last night,” she said drowsily.

  “Think nothing of it. It will be morning when we land, and if you sleep now, you’ll be better adjusted to the time difference.”

  He took her hand and tugged her up out of the chair, deftly undoing her seat buckle with his free hand. “Come on—you fall asleep there and you’re going to have the worst crick in your neck when we land.”

  Maggie had half a thought that him holding her hand felt nice, and then she was laying down on a comfy couch with a soft blanket covering her.

  A hand brushed the hair off her face and Raffaele’s voice murmured, “Sleep well, Maggie.”

  That was nice, too, and so she drifted off to sleep warm and happy.

  She awoke to the sounds of clinking dishes and the smell of something good. Maggie sat up slowly and, looking out one of the plane’s windows, noticed the sun peeking over the edge of the horizon.

  “Good morning,” she heard Raffaele say, and she quickly turned to find him watch
ing her, looking just as good as he had when they took off.

  Maggie briefly thought that it wasn’t fair that he looked amazing while she probably looked like she’d slept in a barn.

  “Good morning,” she replied and carefully folded the blanket. “Sorry I slept the whole flight.”

  Raffaele shook his head. “I’m glad you did. Would you like some breakfast?”

  “Yes, please, but first…can you point me to where I can brush my hair? And maybe my teeth?”

  Raffaele looked like he wanted to laugh at her plaintive tone, but instead he pointed to a door behind her.

  “You’ll find everything you need in there. There’s a kit on the counter just for you.”

  Maggie smiled in thanks and when she returned several minutes later, felt much more awake and like herself. She sat across from Raffaele while the steward served a wonderful eggs royale—fitting, she mused. Maggie enjoyed eating a meal she hadn’t had to make herself, and looking out the window as the ground got closer.

  Raffaele pointed out landmarks as they prepared for landing, and Maggie couldn’t get over just how pretty the country was. Sparkling teal ocean on one side, lush green on the other, with bright dots of towns covering the island.

  The steward cleared the table, and Raffaele once again buckled them into the seats. Maggie thought she would be nervous at landing, but she was too enthralled by the view from the window to even see Raffaele watching her quietly.

  On the ground, Raffaele helped her off the plane. Maggie wanted to help carry her chef’s gear, but Raffaele just smiled and shook his head, so Maggie took a moment to enjoy the clear morning air as she waited by the limo. Once the car was loaded, their driver ushered them inside and set off for the palace.

  When they pulled up the long drive lined with trees interspersed with statues, Maggie turned to Raffaele, her eyes wide with amazement.

  “You live here? I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised, because you did say palace, but still.”

  Raffaele smiled at her. “This is home.”

  Maggie looked at the palace again. The long building was made of a light-colored stone, and the front was all majestic arches and tall windows. Two square towers framed each side of the house and an elaborate set of double stairs led to the front door.

  “Wow.”

  Suddenly, Maggie had a better idea of what cooking for the royal family really meant, and instead of being apprehensive, she turned to Raffaele with shining eyes.

  “It’s beautiful. When can I see the kitchen?”

  Chapter 9

  Raffaele

  Raffaele wanted Maggie to feel comfortable in the palace, so he dispensed with the normal, elaborate greeting ritual and helped her sort out which of her bags needed to go to her room and which needed to go to the kitchen.

  He walked her past the stern-faced guards who stood at the top of the steps on either side of the door. The two men were dressed in the traditional royal guard’s dress uniform—a white jacket with gold buttons and braid over blue pants.

  When they got inside the door, Maggie leaned into him a little and said dryly, “I don’t why, but I was really expecting them to wear some kind of big funny hat.”

  Raffaele grinned at her. “Only for special occasions.”

  “I’m pretty sure everything I know about royal palaces comes from watching movies.” Maggie looked around as they walked up the grand staircase. “Your home is beautiful.”

  Raffaele led her down a long hallway. “This is the family wing. My rooms are down there—” he pointed to the left, “if you need anything. But you can also ask any of the staff for assistance.”

  He stopped at an impressive-looking door that was standing open. He cocked his head toward the room inside.

  “Your chamber awaits, my lady.”

  Maggie registered how much she liked hearing those words somewhere in the back of her mind, but the rest of her brain was occupied with the bedroom in front of her. Raffaele thanked the staff who had carried Maggie’s bags from the car and then watched Maggie as she explored the suite that would be her home for the next week.

  The windows were edged in dark wood and draped with heavy cream-colored drapes embroidered with a delicate blue pattern. There was a fireplace with a crackling fire already burning, and in front of it were two comfortable-looking chairs. Next to one of the windows sat a writing desk, in a dark wood that matched the two bedside tables.

  The bed was piled high with pillows and draped with a canopy that Raffaele thought was a little over the top, but Maggie obviously liked as she trailed her fingers across the mesh fabric.

  She opened a door along the far wall, which Raffaele knew led to a spa-like bathroom. Maggie looked inside, then quickly looked back at Raffaele. She walked over to the large alcove along the other wall, which was set up as a sitting room with a couch and another chair.

  Maggie turned back to him, her eyes wide. “Raffaele, this isn’t a bedroom. This is a luxury resort. This room is bigger than my parents’ house. If it were any bigger, I’d need a map.”

  He chuckled. “Wait until you see the rest of the palace.”

  “Said no one ever.”

  “Until now,” he said and grabbed her hand impulsively. “Come on. Let me show you around.”

  Maggie let him pull her along, walking through room after room. She exclaimed over precious artwork and marveled at the elaborate furnishings. Raffaele found her amazement endearing, and he found himself looking at his home through fresh eyes.

  He was used to the luxury; he’d never known anything else. And he knew it wasn’t how most of the world lived.

  His lifestyle really was indulgent. Everything he wanted was handed to him, literally on a silver platter. Raffaele had wondered from to time what it would be like to not have these advantages; it was part of the reason he gave so much to charity.

  The thought occurred to him that he might soon have the opportunity to experience life without the opulence. His military service wasn’t going to take place in a palace. He wouldn’t have servants and a chef and a driver. Even though Raffaele wasn’t sure what his service would look like, he already knew he didn’t want any special treatment. He’d be fine without the luxury.

  But for now, it was fun to watch Maggie discover his home. Raffaele ended their tour with a quick stop on the palace’s main terrace, which had a stunning view of the sea. He enjoyed watching Maggie take in the view and the crisp air, and he had the thought that making her happy was a worthy goal.

  She looked up at him, eyes shining, and Raffaele lost track of what he was about to say. He could get lost in that look.

  Giving himself a mental shake, Raffaele said, “I know you’re going to want to get right to work, but have lunch with me first. I’ll show you the kitchen and help you unpack your things there when we get back.”

  Maggie nodded happily. “Lunch would be good. Let me freshen up just a bit and I’ll be ready to go.”

  Raffaele made sure she found her way back to her room, and then waited somewhat impatiently for her downstairs. His heart skipped a beat when she smiled at him as she walked down the stairs. He smiled back and offered her his arm.

  “You look lovely, Maggie.” She blushed and Raffaele tucked her hand in close to his side. “Ready for lunch?”

  “Definitely,” Maggie said. “Where are we going?”

  “My favorite place in the city.” She gave him an excited look and he grinned. “You’ll love it.”

  They walked outside and to a small, nondescript car waiting at the foot of the steps. Raffaele opened the passenger door for Maggie and then walked around to the driver’s side.

  When he slid into the car, he pulled two ball caps and two pair of sunglasses out of the glove compartment and handed one of each to Maggie.

  Maggie turned the hat over and then looked at Raffaele. “Really?”

  He shrugged as he placed his own cap on his head. “It’s our disguise.”

  Maggie snorted and said, “Is this an
appropriate time for me to comment on the disparities between football and soccer?”

  “You mean, American football and real football?” Raffaele asked cheekily.

  “Hey, if you’re going to wear the gear—” she waved the cap at him, “you have to say nice things about American football.” Raffaele started to speak, but she cut him off, with a gleam in her eye. “Also known as real football, actual football, and the only football worth watching.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her and pulled out of the driveway quickly. Maggie sat back in her seat, laughing.

  “Tell me why we need disguises to have lunch?”

  Raffaele looked at her a little more seriously.

  “Being stalked by paparazzi is no fun. I usually wear some kind of disguise when I eat at Clarissa and Stefano’s restaurant. It’s just a tiny place and they don’t need to put up with the hassle.” He glanced at her again. “And neither do you.”

  When Raffaele pushed open the front door to the tiny restaurant, the woman behind the counter looked up. Her face brightened and she hurried around to the other side.

  “Prince Raffaele! I was just wondering when you’d be in again—I have a birthday present for you!”

  “Hello, Clarissa! I have a present for you, too,” he said with a big smile.

  He held out a small paper bag, which made Clarissa laugh.

  “I’m running out of room in my kitchen,” she teased him, but took the bag and opened it excitedly.

  She pulled out a purple mug with the words New Orleans printed on one side and a gold fleur-de-lis on the other. In the mug was a bag of coffee; Clarissa also pulled a bottle of Louisiana hot sauce out of the bag.

  Raffaele leaned over and said softly to Maggie, “I get her a mug and some kind of local food from all the places I travel to.”

  “He’s going to have to build me a house just for all the mugs,” Clarissa said, smiling. “Thank you, dear boy. I can’t wait to try these.”

  Raffaele looked at her fondly. “Say the word, and I’ll build you a palace.”

  Clarissa laughed. “Why don’t you introduce me to your lovely friend instead?”