The Sheikh's Baby Bet

by Holly Rayner

  “I can’t do this, Papa,” she whispered into the empty room.

  Tears threatened to take over once again, and she fought them back, gazing back down at the paperwork on the lithium deal.

  Who was this Jenson Black, and what kind of deal was he going to make that required her personal attention? He had to have some idea of the straights they were in, but how could he know?

  With a sigh, Jasmina realized there would only be one way to find that out. She would have to wait until her meeting with Black, and see what was so important to him that only she could discuss it.

  Her country’s welfare depended on it.

  Chapter Three

  A few days later, Jasmina was in her father’s old office, trying to puzzle out just how he had managed to be so misled by his former advisory team. Adir had provided her the entire series of files on the investigation, and she shifted a pair of black rimmed glasses a little higher on her petite nose as her eyebrows narrowed.

  She was scowling when there was a knock at the door, and she glanced up and called out for the person to come in. Asha opened the door with a small cup of tea on a silver tray in her hand.

  “You need some sustenance, Jasmina. This will do you no good.”

  Jasmina gestured to the papers angrily.

  “How could this have happened? This is outrageous! We must find these men and bring them to justice, immediately. I’m so mad I could just spit!”

  Asha approached the desk, brushing aside files to make room for the tea, which steamed slightly as she set it on the mahogany wood.

  “Just try not to spit into your tea, dear.”

  Jasmina forced herself to calm down. It would do no good flying into a rage. She knew that there would be many instances where she would be met with less than happy facts, and she would have to handle it with dignity and calm resolve.

  It’s what her father would have expected of her.

  Lifting the cup to her lips, she took a delicate sip and released a breath. She glanced up at her old confidant.

  “Thank you, Asha. This is just what I needed.”

  Asha shook her head.

  “What you need is lunch. I’m here to tell you that your business prospect has arrived at the palace, and is waiting for you in the main atrium.”

  “Jenson Black?”

  “That’s the one,” Asha said, her lip twitching. The small movement didn’t make it past Jasmina.

  “Why are you smiling?” she asked.

  Asha shrugged, feigning nonchalance. She stepped away from the desk and headed toward the door.

  “Let’s just say I haven’t seen a man that looks like that since the last time I went to the cinema,” she said, winking at Jasmina before closing the door behind her.

  Jasmina blinked. Did Asha just call the CEO attractive, like that was what mattered? The welfare of El Jayiah could rest on that man’s shoulders! It didn’t matter if he looked like a toad.

  Squaring her shoulders, Jasmina took one last sip of the soothing tea before she made her own exit, her black heels clicking against the mosaic tiled floors as she made her way across the sprawling estate to the main entrance.

  When she arrived, a man was standing with his back to her in the far corner. He appeared to be admiring a portrait of her great-grandmother, and even Jasmina had to admit that the back of him alone was…admirable. Broad shoulders were encased in a tailored black suit, his trousers perfectly displaying his…assets. Jasmina cleared her throat, to get his attention as much to regather her wits; checking the man out was hardly the best way to start the meeting.

  He turned, and even from across the room Jasmina could see how emerald green his eyes were. She had seen her fair share of gems, but these were brighter and more stunning than any she had come across. Paired with his light brown hair, the man certainly had a celebrity quality to him, which, Jasmina mused, likely helped his business.

  She knew firsthand that people could be terribly shallow. Even as she thought it, she remembered that she had reacted to him just by entering the room, and she chastised herself.

  She was a Sheikha, and one in dire need of funds. That was the focus. The fact that the man was a stunning human specimen was irrelevant.

  He approached her, sticking out his hand for her to shake.

  “Your Highness. I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me today.”

  Jasmina instinctively placed her hand in his, ignoring the soft feel of his touch. She would be shaking hands for the rest of her life with a million strangers a day. This was no different than any other diplomatic meeting. His eyes bored into hers, as though he was measuring her up, and she held onto his hand a little tighter before releasing it.

  “I see you were admiring a portrait of my great-grandmother,” she said, and he glanced back before turning to face her with a nod.

  “She was quite a lovely woman. It’s clear to me that those traits are genetic.”

  Jasmina brushed off the compliment.

  “We are here to discuss matters of state, Mr. Black. My appearance has nothing to do with it.”

  “You don’t like being called lovely?”

  “I don’t like being judged for my appearance over my substance. I am a Sheikha, Mr. Black, but if my face were plain I would still have the same mind.”

  “So what you’re saying is you think you’re attractive.”

  Jasmina could feel her cheeks reddening. How had she lost control of the conversation so quickly? She had to keep a cool head.

  “I’m saying I would like to discuss our terms with you without you objectifying me because of my gender. Do you think that will be something you’re capable of, Mr. Black?”

  He smirked at her comment, and Jasmina cursed the fact that she had ever found the man attractive. He was clearly a brute used to getting whatever he wanted because he himself had a pretty face. He wouldn’t find himself getting away with that on her watch!

  “I will certainly try to keep my admiration to myself from here on out, Your Highness. Do forgive me for complimenting you.”

  “Feel free to compliment me by not insulting my intelligence. I am not a woman who can be swayed by pretty words. I have a nation to run here, Mr. Black. I don’t have time for shameless flirts.”

  Jenson put up his hands in a defensive gesture.

  “All right, all right. Sensitive subject. I get it. Maybe we can start over. I’m Jenson Black, here to meet with you about that delightful supply of lithium you have.”

  He crossed his arms, waiting for her to take her turn, to play into his game. When she simply stared him down, he glanced back at the picture of her great-grandmother.

  “I would love to hear about all the accomplishments of your ancestors, without discussing their personal appearance, since that topic is clearly so disgusting to you.”

  The man was arrogance personified. Jasmina continued to stare at him in silence, wanting him to squirm beneath her gaze. Seeing her game, Jenson crossed his arms again and stared right back at her.

  “As much as I love a good staring contest, there is business we need to attend to. Are you quite finished?” he asked.

  Jasmina bit back a retort. Her people were counting on her, and this swaggering brute was her only ticket to salvation. Taking a bracing breath, she reminded herself that she was a diplomat, and that refusing to speak with him wasn’t going to resolve anything.

  “Now that your little game is finished, I would love to sit down and discuss terms. If you’ll follow me,” she said turning.

  “You know,” he said, drawing out the last word as he stayed in place.

  Jasmina turned back to face him with a lifted eyebrow. He seemed entirely unaffected by her obvious annoyance.

  “We could have a much better time discussing business over dinner in the city. What do you say? Come out with me tonight instead?”

  Jasmina blinked. Her disbelief was so overpowering it left her momentarily speechless before she walked up to him to look straight up into his
eyes. She instantly regretted that decision, because the man had a delicious smelling cologne that permeated her senses and left her feeling slightly dizzy.

  “This is not a date, Mr. Black. You are here to negotiate terms that will benefit both our parties, and I am here to ensure that those negotiations take place in a timely manner. I do not have time to waste going out to a public place to discuss private national matters. We have a luncheon already prepared here. You would not want to offend my chef by walking out on his careful preparations?”

  Jenson grinned, and Jasmina wanted to slap that smile right off his smug face.

  “Nice power play. I can see this isn’t your first rodeo, Sheikha, in which case we’ll do things your way. Please lead the way to lunch, Your Highness.”

  She nodded once, turning and walking out of the room, beyond caring whether it was rude that she chose not to walk beside him. The man was rude and bullish, and she wanted to finish the negotiations as soon as possible so she could leave him in the hands of her advisors for the rest of their commitment. The meeting couldn’t end soon enough as far as she was concerned.

  A pair of wide glass doors opened up to the royal gardens, which were peppered with sweet smelling flowers of all shades and hues. A table for two had been set up beneath a white gazebo, loaded with local delicacies and fresh-squeezed juice. Jasmina took a seat, and Jenson followed suit.

  “I take it back. This is far more romantic than a dinner out. I see what you did there,” he quipped.

  Jasmina’s blood was beginning to boil. The man refused to address her as a monarch, instead trying every tactic to flirt with her like they were at a bar in Manhattan. She thought back to her time in New York, and was grateful for it. Without having dealt with American men in the past, she wouldn’t know just how to handle this one.

  “Mr. Black, before we begin this meeting I’d like to be very clear about one thing: I would never in a million years consider a romantic engagement with someone like you. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s discuss what we’re actually here for, okay?”

  Her tone was the perfect mixture of disgust and condescension, but to her despair Jenson seemed in no way put off. He simply shrugged, grabbing a roll off the table and taking a bite. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Jasmina began her prepared negotiation.

  “I understand that you’ve agreed to hire only local workers to mine this supply, while also offering to use your own equipment to complete the extraction. I am perfectly willing to grant you access to the lithium mines for as long as this process will take, but from what I’ve read you should be able to mine the supply over the course of the next ten years. We can renegotiate your status in my country at that time, but I think ten years of promised employment will be enough for now, with the inclusion of your initial payment for the lithium itself.”

  Jenson continued to chew on his bread. Even though he wasn’t slovenly about it, something about the gesture annoyed Jasmina beyond understanding. It was as though he wasn’t listening to a word she was saying. After swallowing another huge bite, he finally looked at her directly, and there was a hunter’s gleam in his eye.

  What on earth was he up to?

  Chapter Four

  “I’d like to make a counterproposal, if I may,” Jenson said, leaning in ever so slightly.

  Jasmina sat back in her seat, waiting for him to go on.

  “I’d like for this to be more of a partnership, Your Highness, and you know I’ve made you a fantastic deal. I am perfectly willing to give you the millions for the rights to mine the lithium. I’m happy to move manufacturing to El Jayiah and build the factories we’ll need to process the mineral, which will take far more than ten years, I can assure you. Your people will have job security for life. I am happy to do all of this starting tomorrow…if you’ll agree to marry me within the next six months.”

  Jasmina stared at him, stunned, but Jenson only laughed.

  “I know, I know. It sounds like a wild proposal, doesn’t it? Still, you have to see things from my point of view. Marriage to a Sheikha is the ultimate career move for an up-and-coming international businessman. Not only will my reputation be upgraded, but it would guarantee business opportunities elsewhere in the Middle East, which is an incredibly lucrative market right now.”

  Realizing her mouth was hanging open, Jasmina closed it, her teeth grinding together as she worked to control her temper. When she was finally able to speak, her voice was laced with daggers.

  “I believe a negotiation involves two sides, and I have yet to hear how a union with you would benefit me in any way, Mr. Black.”

  Jenson leaned back in his chair, the paragon of confidence.

  “But didn’t I just lay all that out for you? In exchange for marriage to me, you get to be the savior of your people. Don’t think I haven’t done my research on the financial situation of your country, Your Highness. Your father left it in a pretty dire situation, and you’re in a position to save everyone. All it takes is a little commitment to me. What could be so bad about that? It’s a no-brainer.”

  Unable to sit any longer, Jasmina bolted upright, her anger so intense she could swear she was seeing red.

  “I reject your terms, Mr. Black, and I highly recommend you take a good hard look at yourself if you think for one minute that I would give you my hand in marriage—something we here in El Jayiah take very seriously—in order to close a business deal. If you think that you can buy me along with my country, then you are sorely mistaken. Do kindly vacate the premises before I have my security guards drag you out.”

  Unable to stand another second in his presence, Jasmina stormed from the gardens, not stopping until she was back in her bedroom and far away from the venerable Jenson Black. Her heart was pounding. She pressed her palm against it, doing her best to calm herself down.

  The nerve of that man! And that was to be her first diplomatic meeting? Would they all be that way? Would her status as a woman make her simply a conquest to be won by every man trying to make a deal? Her heart sank at the thought, and a wave of sadness washed over her as she longed even harder for her father to simply come back to life and better prepare her for the responsibilities that came with being Sheikha.

  The weight of her title was suffocating, and Jasmina found herself tearing at her dress until she finally managed to shed the offensive garment, heading to her closet and tossing it open.

  She needed to get out. She needed to escape the gilded cage she had found herself in. Finding a light pink skirt—the first article of clothing she would wear that wasn’t black since her father’s death—and a white blouse, Jasmina donned a white headscarf and a comfortable pair of shoes before heading out to her veranda.

  Years before, as a little girl, she had mastered the climb down from her second-floor bedroom, managing to dig her little shoes into the crannies time had left behind. Muscle memory served her well as she made her way down the palace wall, reaching the ground with a gentle leap. Glancing around her, she found herself alone as she made her way to a back exit—a secret door only the royal family knew about.

  She pressed her finger against an imperceptible circle in the wall, and a small door sprang open. Quickly she slid through it and closed it again, entering a small alley before walking out into the open streets of Tyra.

  All around her people were going about their days as though the country were not on the edge of destruction. One thing her father’s government had managed to do was keep their situation out of view from the general public so as not to incite panic, and Jasmina was grateful for that as she strolled down the busy streets. She bought a cold tea from a local vendor, who looked at her as though he knew he’d seen her face somewhere, but couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

  Jasmina thanked him for the tea before heading toward one of Tyra’s largest parks. A series of cricket fields, large fountains and playgrounds surrounded her, and she found a bench she could sit on to enjoy her tea while she watched the people of her country go abo
ut their lives.

  A mother and father were walking with a small child between them. The child held each of their hands, swinging back and forth every couple of steps. Her parents beamed down at her, then at each other as they continued their walk around the park. Behind them a cricket game was in progress, the sound of a bat slapping against a ball before cheers erupted over and over again.

  Jasmina absorbed the sounds of her old life, the people whose lives she was responsible for. She watched as men cheered on their teammates and women cuddled their children beneath little tents. She breathed in the scent of cinnamon bread from the local food stands, and felt a wave of sadness wash over her.

  If she didn’t get a deal for the lithium, all of this would be lost. People would lose their homes, children would go hungry. The joy she felt around her would melt away into despair, which would lead to violence and uprisings. She couldn’t afford to let that happen. She had to do whatever it took to protect them. Without Jenson’s offer, her country would slide headfirst into a depression.

  She thought about Jenson, then. She’d been trying not to—the man was everything in the world that she hated most. He was arrogant and entitled, a sexist pig who thought he could manipulate her to get what he wanted. He was already at the pinnacle of his field, wealthy in every possible way, and still he wanted more.

  He wanted her soul.

  A little boy waddled up to her, his smile missing a few teeth as he rested a tiny hand on her knee. Jasmina smiled down at him, placing a hand on his tiny fingers.

  “Hello there,” she said, and the toddler babbled something incomprehensible.

  “Hani! What did mommy say?”

  A woman dashed up to them, scooping up her son with an apologetic look in her eye.

  “I’m terribly sorry. He’s just started wandering off and we’re having trouble keeping him in one place.”

  Jasmina waved away the apology.

  “Think nothing of it. We had a lovely conversation just now.”