The Sheikh's Fake Courtship (Halabi Sheikhs Book 2)

by Leslie North

  “This is difficult for me,” he said. “More so for you, of course. I feel a fool, putting you in this position, but what’s done is done. We should focus on damage control.”

  Raina knit her brow. “It sounds like you have something in mind.”

  “I do, but...” Chadil had the grace to look embarrassed. He reached for her hand but didn’t take it. “I’ll understand if you say no. What I’m asking is an imposition. I’ve created this situation, but I’ll need your help getting out of it.”

  “How?” She squared her shoulders, determined to make him say it. None of this was her idea, and he wouldn’t manipulate her into thinking it was.

  “I propose you go through the motions with me as you would have with my brother. Be seen with me, as if we’re courting. Make it look good.” He lowered his eyes, and this time, she was sure his discomfort was feigned. “You’ll have your bride price, of course. For your family. And when it’s over, well, I’m not actually looking for a wife. The tradition allows for a couple to part without an engagement at the end.”

  Raina swallowed. She felt sick. She’d agreed to this once before, but hearing it spelled out so coldly made bile rise in her throat. Chadil was watching her, and the spark she’d seen as mischievous in Rome felt calculating here. He scratched his chin.

  “May I be honest with you?” he asked.

  “You weren’t before?”

  “No, I meant...may I speak bluntly?”

  Raina’s stomach turned over, but she nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “Bas’s marriage ruffled feathers; taboos—pointless ones in this case—were broken. Fiona’s a treasure, but the way it happened has the old guard in a tizzy. They expect ceremony, tradition, especially from the royal family. If I could show them that...” He trailed off, half-smiling. “It must sound so odd to you, coming from America.”

  “It doesn’t.” Raina’s lips quirked up, her first genuine smile since David had turned into Chadil. “My parents are the old guard. I’ve been dealing with that my whole life, the pressure to be...I don’t know. Proper.” She pulled a face. “I was always a tomboy, but they’d buy me dresses. Send me to ballet instead of soccer. It’s all about how it looks.”

  “Exactly.” Chadil laughed, sharp and humorless. “And here I am, doing the same.”

  “Or you’re trapped in it, too.” Raina let her fingers brush his. “You should’ve just told me that from the start.”

  “So you’ll do it?”

  “Ha.” Raina let out a long breath. She’d come here expecting a holiday, fun in the sun and a quick return trip. Bas’s marriage had come as a relief, and now she was expected to trade one brother for the next—one she’d slept with, no less. She wasn’t sure she even liked this version of him, lying easy as breathing, playing on her sympathies like a virtuoso. “What is the traditional courtship?”

  Chadil cleared his throat. “It’s uncommon today. I don’t know anyone who’s gone through it recently. But I’d say it’s a cross between dating and an introduction to society. We’d go out, get to know one another, but most of that would happen in public. It’s meant to prepare us for our royal duties. Prepare you, in this case. Obviously, I—”

  “Obviously.” Raina got to her feet, full of nervous energy. “And after that?”

  “Well, we’d—excuse me.” Chadil fished out his phone and thumbed it open, scowled as he pecked out a text. Raina stared, disbelieving, as he lost himself in his task, stabbing furiously at the screen.

  “Uh...hello?”

  “Sorry. Let me just—” He kept scrolling, the worry-line deepening between his eyes. “No comment for you. Or for you.” He glanced at Raina. “Our courtship would ordinarily end in betrothal, but in our case, we’ll say we weren’t a match and part as friends.”

  “So, consciously uncouple?” Raina grinned at her own joke, pulled from some celebrity quote, but Chadil was texting again.

  “I’m sorry. I can put off the press, but my brothers deserve an explanation. We can pick this up later—unless you had questions?”

  “I’m good, I guess.” She shifted, feeling awkward. “Should I wait for you, or—?”

  “No. I’ll be a while. Ask anyone in the palace to show you to your suite.” Chadil turned back to his phone. “Oh!”

  “What?”

  “I just realized you never gave me an answer.” He looked up, shamefaced. “I hate to put you on the spot, but what should I tell my brothers?”

  Raina’s skin prickled. This was her last chance to back out. She could tell Chadil no, go back to her life. Who could blame her for that? Her mother could, and she would. She’d never let her forget it, how she’d been in a position to save her family and she’d chickened out.

  “I’ll do it,” she said, and that was that.

  No turning back now.

  Her mother picked up on the first ring, as if she’d been waiting by the phone.

  “Darling?” A staticky tick-tick-tick came down the line, her nail on the receiver. “Raina? Can you hear me?”

  “Yeah, Mom. I hear you.” She sank into an overstuffed chair, nearly moaning at its softness. She couldn’t wait to close her eyes. Maybe when she woke up, this would all be a dream, some cheese-sandwich nightmare born of guilt.

  “Well? What’s he like? Are you smitten?”

  “You haven’t heard?” Raina’s heart sank. “Zenab had it wrong. The king’s already married. They want me to go through the whole thing with his brother, but—”

  “Oh, yes. We knew that.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t say ‘what.’ You sound like a Canada goose—waaaat? Waaaat?”

  Raina rolled her eyes. “Fine. Excuse me?”

  “I said we knew all that.” She drew the words out like she was talking to a toddler. “The royal wedding was all over the news.”

  Raina squinched her eyes as a stress headache bloomed. “Then why’d you let me come? Why’d you let me walk away from my life, knowing he was—”

  “Because we had a contract with Zenab. It wouldn’t look right, breaking our word to the Halabis. That, and there are three brothers.” She made a tutting sound. “That’s two still single, right?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “You were promised a prince, and a prince you shall have.”

  “A prince?” Raina opened her eyes, but the palace was still there. This trip, this day, this bizarre conversation—it was all happening for real. “I don’t feel right about this,” she said. “It feels tacky, switching one for the other. Like when Britney married Jason and dumped him two days later.”

  “Tacky? Don’t talk nonsense. Chadil Halabi is a prince of Al-Mifadhir. Courtship is beautiful, and it works. Your father and I courted—are we tacky?” Her voice rose and rose, shrill with indignation. “Don’t you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?”

  Raina opened her mouth, but no words came.

  “Darling. We need this.” Mom lowered her voice. “And so do the Halabis. You’re too young to remember, but our families were close. And now we’re in a position to help each other. Would you turn your back on us all?”

  “Of course not.” Raina sighed. “I told Chadil I’d do it. But I keep thinking—” She held the phone away from her ear as her mom squealed down the line.

  “That’s wonderful,” she cried. “Oh, you won’t regret this. When your father and I started courting, well, we hardly knew each other. But we went to the spring ball at the palace, and the cameras loved us. We were in the society pages—there was even a magazine spread. There’s magic in it, you’ll see. And once you get to know him—”

  “Yeah.” Raina’d had enough. “Listen, I’m exhausted. Today’s been so crazy, and I’ve barely slept. I’ll call you back, okay?”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Love you, Mom. Bye.” She hung up before her mother could say another word. She felt like she might explode. Her head hurt, her stomach hurt, and her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since Rome. She nee
ded a bath, time to think.

  Was the prize at the end worth all this?

  4

  Chadil hung up the phone with a curse. Whatever he did, it was never enough. There was no satisfying the press, much less the public. He’d found a bride, which was good, from a noble family, which was better—but the questions kept pouring in. Why the sudden engagement? Why the informal presentation, a quick smile-and-wave at the palace gates?

  Because we’re not engaged. We’re just courting. And what kind of presentation did you expect, cornering us at the gates?

  He buried his face in his hands. The yakety-yaks were bad enough, but it was dawning on him he had no idea how to court a woman. His grandparents’ press clippings were no help. They’d gone to camel races, which hadn’t been a thing for decades, then ridden more camels through the desert. He had no idea where to find a camel and even less inclination to ride one. They smelled, and they spat, and they were known to bite. He couldn’t think of a less appealing date.

  The point was to be seen, he supposed, and they could do that almost anywhere, the symphony, maybe, or a football game. He wondered which Raina would prefer. Probably the symphony, but football would draw more press.

  Speaking of Raina, he hadn’t seen her since their chat in the aviary the day before. He pushed his laptop aside and made his way to the terrace. Raina was there already, eating with Fiona and Edlyn. Fiona said something, and all three of them laughed. Chadil watched them, half-smiling. It was a sweet scene, domestic, and he was pleased to see Raina fitting in. He pulled out his phone and fired off a tweet: “Breakfast with the family, then my next chapter begins. #almifadhir #royalcourtship.”

  Raina looked up and smiled, and her beauty sucked his breath right out of his lungs. The sun caught gold highlights in her dark hair, and something about her spontaneous expression knocked loose his carefully practiced facade. She beckoned him over, and Chadil was relieved, at least till he caught sight of her attire. He stopped in his tracks, trying not to gape.

  “Something the matter?”

  “No. It’s just...” He ran his eyes over her outfit: a T-shirt and yoga pants, and on her feet, some kind of...colanders? “Are those shoes?”

  “They’re Crocs. Don’t you have them here?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Oh, we do.” Edlyn gestured at her own feet. “I’m not wearing mine, but I have a pair.”

  “Really? May I ask why?” Chadil grimaced. “On second thought, don’t tell me.” His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it: more bad news. He fired off a text, not waiting for a reply. “I’d hoped to have time for a family breakfast, but Raina, can we speak?”

  Raina didn’t answer, still staring at her shoes, but Fiona excused herself and Edlyn followed suit. Chadil sat down and helped himself to an orange. A maid glided up and poured him a coffee, and he took a grateful swig.

  “I hope I didn’t embarrass you,” he said. “Your shoes are quite...practical. And pink.”

  Raina’s lips twitched. “They are very pink.” She sipped her own coffee. “A patient got them for me, sort of a thank-you gift. They’re my good luck charm.”

  “A patient?”

  “Yeah. I’m a nurse. I guess you wouldn’t know that, but—”

  “No, I did.” Chadil covered his embarrassment with a smile. He hadn’t remembered, though he was sure he’d read it somewhere. “I thought about being a doctor, but it wasn’t in the cards.”

  “I thought of that too,” said Raina. “But I needed to be more hands-on. Folks come to us scared, on the worst days of their lives. I want to be the one holding their hands, telling them what they need to know.”

  “That’s brave,” said Chadil, and he meant it. His phone went again, but he ignored it. “And speaking of courage, I thought we might make our debut today.”

  Raina nodded, and Chadil felt his tension ease up. She wasn’t protesting, which was good.

  “I’m not sure if you know, but football’s big in Al-Mifadhir. We’ve yet to snatch the World Cup, but we’re looking good for ’22.” He winked. “Anyway, there’s a game this afternoon, and I think it’d be good for us to attend. Show we’re invested in the team.”

  “Football.” Raina toyed with her fork. “I don’t know. It seems kinda...un-royal?”

  Chadil scowled. Un-royal?

  “I mean, we could see a game another day, but I was thinking today—didn’t your dad fund that children’s hospital? Can we go there?” She looked down, her cheeks turning pink. “It’s just, it’s less public. No Jumbotrons. I could ease in, dip a toe into the pool before I dive.” She sat straighter, eyes lighting up. “Plus, they have that new PT program. I’d love to see that. We heard about it all the way in Baltimore, which...we never get your news back there. It’s gotta be amazing.”

  “So I’m told.”

  “Well? Can we go?”

  Chadil sat back, considering. It wasn’t as public as football, but community outreach was always a winner, particularly where children were involved. And Raina’s excitement was contagious. She had that rapt look in her eyes, the same one she’d had when she’d spoken of adventure. It had drawn him in then, and he was helpless to resist now. “All right,” he said. “The hospital it is. I think that’s a great idea.”

  “Fantastic!” Raina bounced in her seat. “I’ll go change right now. What should I wear? Zenab got these dresses, but none of them fit, and my clothes are mostly—”

  “Don’t worry about that.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve arranged for a stylist. She’ll be waiting in your suite.”

  “A stylist?”

  “Yes. And an etiquette coach to brief you on protocol.”

  “Protocol?” Raina crossed her arms, indignant. “I might be American, but I do have some manners. And I’ve been dressing myself since I was three.”

  “Yeah, but how would you address our ambassador to the United States?”

  “Uh...Your Honor?”

  Chadil laughed. “Not quite. Protocol’s different from manners, see?” He flashed her his most winning smile. “You are my intended, remember? You’re expected to know these things. To cut a royal figure from the start.”

  Raina nodded, but her frown stayed in place. “I don’t need the stylist, though. Fiona said I could borrow something, and—”

  “Absolutely not. You’ll have an outfit designed for your figure. I’ve arranged a new wardrobe for you, and accessories. It’s all yours to keep, of course, even after we’re through.”

  “Of course.” Raina’s tone turned frosty, and Chadil just had time to wonder if he’d offended her before she gulped down her coffee and stood up. “I shouldn’t keep your stylist waiting.”

  “Raina—”

  “I’ll come find you when I’m done.” She turned and clomped away, Crocs squeaking on the flagstones. Chadil watched her go, bemused. He’d thought she’d be pleased to have her own stylist. Edlyn had always loved that sort of thing—she and Fiona made whole days of it, trips to the spa followed by outings to show off their new looks.

  His phone buzzed, and he reached for it. Raina would wait, but the press were tireless, churning out gossip day and night. Even so, a spark of anticipation kindled in his gut. He’d picked out Raina’s new wardrobe himself, and though he tried to deny it, he couldn’t wait to see her all dolled up.

  5

  Raina choked back a sneeze as the stylist sprayed her hair into place. Her eyes watered, then cleared, and she had to admit she looked great. Chadil’s judgment had hurt, and she’d had her misgivings when Aziza showed up with a makeup box the size of a suitcase, but she’d never looked so good. Her face had a subtle glow, golden-pink roses in her cheeks, a colorless gloss on her lips. And her lashes looked amazing, full without a single clump. She tried an experimental blink: no smudges.

  Farah, the etiquette coach, cleared her throat. “Ready for your quiz?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She braced herself, praying she wouldn’t louse this up. The mor
ning had passed in a flash, a storm of measurements and instructions and rules to be memorized, and she was afraid they’d gone in one ear and out the other.

  “You’re doing a press conference. A reporter steps on your toe, then apologizes profusely. What’s your response?”

  “Um...apologize back. Tell him I was in the way.” She cocked her head, thinking. “Oh! And I’d make a joke, something for them to print. Like, ‘Don’t worry. These are steel-toed pumps.’”

  “Almost.” Farah scribbled something down. “You wouldn’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’d ask if you were in the way, but only to spare him embarrassment. Never take blame you haven’t earned.”

  “No unearned blame. Got it.” Raina bit her lip. She’d known that one.

  “A small child spills ice cream down your dress. It’s chocolate. There’s no hiding it. What do you do?”

  “I laugh. That’s hilarious. Then I pretend the stain looks awesome, buy the kid a new cone, and we pose for a photo together.”

  “Perfect.” Farah looked satisfied. “Ready for a tricky one?”

  Raina swallowed. She wasn’t sure she was, especially with Aziza working on her nails. The zip of the file was distracting.

  “Hit me,” she said.

  “The director of the hospital comes to meet you. You’ve already made eye contact, but the Minister of Health has just arrived, and he comes up behind you and says hello. Whom do you greet first?”

  “Crap. Crap, I know this.” Raina closed her eyes. Aziza kept filing, zzt, zzt, zzt. She did know this, though. Farah had gone over it while they measured her inseam. “It’s a trick question,” she said. “The Minister of Health’s more important, but I can avoid offending either if I ask them if they’ve met.”

  “Yes! You’re a natural.” Farah went to the clothing rack and pulled out a dress, a sumptuous cream number in the traditional style of Al-Mifadhir. “Now, are you sure I can’t talk you into this?”

  “Not for a hospital visit.” Raina gestured at herself and the soft slacks and blouse she’d agreed to. “I need something practical. Something that won’t catch on anything.” She thumbed her sleeve, fondling the smooth silk. “Besides, this is beautiful. I feel like a princess already.”