He reached out and stroked a strand of blonde hair from her face. “That’s why I need you to be the one, Felicia. It can be done however you want, and you can spend a month or so adjusting if you need it once we get to Jardania before the procedure, but I want you to be part of the royal line of Jardania. I think you will add great things to the Ahmed family.”
“I’m not royalty, or even Muslim. Would your people even accept me or a child of mine, if we’re just American commoners?”
“Let me worry about that. Princesses are so delicate, so hopelessly spoiled. They’re vapid and venal, but you’re something else, something special. Please consider being more than just the surrogate, Felicia. Please be everything I need.”
She swallowed hard, not sure how to take any of this, but she knew the answer. After all, because of him, her mother was recovering well, and she would never see a hospital bill. Elena would be taken care of for the next year and beyond. He seemed to see more to her than anyone had before.
Besides, she was already taking one crazy leap. What was one more? Of course, she’d never be allowed to stay around and raise the child. She was just an American, after all.
“Yes, I’ll be the mother, but I can’t…we have to have some time to settle in, and we’ll talk procedures later.”
He nodded and kissed each of her cheeks in quick succession. “Agreed. Besides, I have so much of my kingdom to show you. I want you to love it as much as I do. I think that’s paramount.”
Considering she was to be the mother of Jardania’s heir, Felicia couldn’t argue that point. Nodding, she cut into her lamb again and brought another morsel to her lips. “I want to make this work because I’m a person of my word, and I like to live up to my obligations. Still, I don’t know what to expect. Two days ago, I was just getting ready to go to the winter formal before heading into my exams. Now, I’m on hiatus from school, worried for my mother, and being whisked away to a country I couldn’t find on a map in order to bear its heir. It’s beyond overwhelming. I can’t even explain to you how hard it is for me to even wrap my head around.”
Zahir ran one hand over his goatee and stared into her eyes; she couldn’t turn away from those chestnut colored orbs of his, the ones that seemed to pierce right into her very soul. “I can’t completely imagine this situation and what it must be like, no. However, I do know what it’s like to have your entire life change overnight. When my father died, I went from a recent college graduate to the sheikh of my country. All the decisions he’d handled so easily became the choices I had to agonize over. I’ve been fumbling in my attempts to live up to his legacy. I promise you, while we have a deadline due to Jardanian law, I don’t intend to sweep you into everything in the first week. We’ll make it as easy as it can be for you and this time next year, you’ll have your life back. If that’s still what you want.”
His words were sincere, and she could feel his voice rumbling through her. She did want her life back, wanted to go back to school and graduate. She could go home with her earnings—no, scratch that—she could go anywhere in the world. Set up a safe place, a stable place for her sister and her mother. She’d be able to take all the time she wanted with her sculptures. And yet, as she looked into the sheikh’s eyes, a small part of her, one that was growing larger all the time, regretted this had to just be business.
She couldn’t lose herself to him. She refused to. She’d seen what happened when you lost yourself to a man, and she couldn’t afford to go down that road, no matter how painful the loneliness was.
“Good, I’m glad. Now, do they have dessert here?”
“My dear, you haven’t lived until you’ve had the chocolate ganache cake here. I promise you that.”
Chapter Six
Jaheer was sprawled on the sofa in Zahir’s hotel suite when he arrived. He rolled his eyes at his younger brother. The other man’s face was sleek and close-shaven, but that was Jaheer’s wont. He’d spent his university days at Berkley and was far more Americanized than even Zahir. It showed in his impetuous attitude the most, as well as the odd slang peppered throughout his conversations. Now he had a know-it-all smirk firmly planted on his face, and Zahir dreaded the talk they were about to have.
Before his brother had the chance to crow at him, Zahir stalked over to the wet bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey. He was many things, but an observant Muslim was not one of them. Like his brother, he had a fondness for the pleasures of the western world, fermentation chief among them. The amber liquid burned its way down his throat, and he relished the jolt. Only then did he turn to face his brother.
“You look smug,” he said, narrowing his eyes at his younger sibling.
“Well, imagine my surprise when you call Mother out of the blue and say that the ball should be altered and that it’s not going to be for finding a bride but, instead, for introducing the mother of your heir to the world. I know you have a tendency to work fast, Zahir, but even I’m impressed.” He threw his arms out over his head. “Now tell me about this mystery woman. Have you had her on the side long? Why didn’t you tell Mother about her before she went DEFCON 1 on decorating?”
“What?” he asked, blinking at his brother’s turn of phrase.
“I mean Mother went all out on the preparations. Who knew she needn’t have bothered? So, who is the mystery woman?”
“I just met her, actually.” He poured a second shot but drained it much more slowly. He’d seem more like the mature older brother if he wasn’t slurring his words in front of Jaheer. “She’s a student—well, she’ll be on sabbatical for the next year or so for obvious reasons—but she’s at the American University of Cairo. I met her when I went for my meeting with the dean.”
“Is she even legal? Not that youth doesn’t have its perks, but eighteen or nineteen is a bit low on the range for you.”
“It would be. She’s a senior, in her twenties. The point is that…I don’t know. She just struck me as amazing. She’s brilliant, a scholarship student, and a fine artist. She’ll make a perfect mother for the next heir to the throne.”
“Is she Egyptian?”
“American,” he said, sipping his drink and starting to pace. “Are you going to give me a grief on that?”
His brother chuckled, clearly amused. “I’ve always liked Americans. They’re by far the most spirited girls out there. But…I don’t know how Mother’s going to take it.”
“Well, great-grandmother was French. It’s not like we’re completely free of Western blood.”
Jaheer grinned and gestured to his sea-green eyes. “Oh I remember, but I think you’ll have an interesting time convincing Mother of your plans. I have never seen you be spontaneous before.” Jaheer stood and surged forward, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you, brother. It must have been painful.”
“What?” He finished the last of his drink and stilled, looking at Jaheer. “I don’t quite understand.”
“Removing that stick from your ass. Welcome to the ne’er-do-well side of the fence. We have cake.”
“Har har.”
Jaheer shrugged and crossed to the door, his hand resting on the handle. “Seriously, brother, I’m proud of you. You always take duty so seriously. If you’ve found a woman who makes you happy, then I’m going to back you on that. I’ve rarely seen you follow what your heart wants, so when you do, I have to think it’s a blessed sign. Get rest. I can’t imagine the flight back to Jardania won’t be taxing tomorrow.”
“Night, Jaheer. You won’t tell Mother about Felicia being American, will you? I wanted to prepare her for it.”
His brother, the lout, laughed long and loud. “Brother, I want to have a front row seat to watch you tell her in person. I wouldn’t keep myself from that pleasure, believe me.”
“Thank you. With family like you…”
“I keep things interesting.” With that, he opened the door and slipped out.
Zahir wasted no time locking the door behind him and heading to the shower. He’d had
a long day of meetings and making arrangements before meeting Felicia for dinner at La Maison Blanche. He had a day’s worth of tension digging into his shoulders and an annoying hard-on that had been bothering him since he set eyes on Felicia at the restaurant. Her pencil skirt made him recall a million dirty librarian fantasies, and being close enough to kiss her had done nothing but exacerbate his condition. God, he’d leaned in tightly enough to get the real scent of her—that mix of her own feminine aroma and strawberries.
He was hard as fucking granite.
Turning the shower knob, Zahir striped off his clothes as he waited for the water to heat up. He couldn’t get the offending fabric off fast enough. When he pulled down his silk boxers, his erection sprang free, relieved to escape its confines. Reaching down, he stroked the tip and licked his lips as it jumped a bit in his grip. Zahir tested the water with one hand before easing his way into the shower. Leaning against the slate grey tiles, he grabbed the body wash. Reluctantly, he dropped his member and rubbed his hands together vigorously, spreading the soft lotion all over both hands. Then he closed his eyes. It would be so much better with them shut.
That way he could imagine Felicia touching him instead, her delicate fingers massaging his length with a sculptor’s skill and artistry.
With his right hand, he cupped his testicles, working his way easily over them, trying to relieve the strain within them. He wrapped the fingers of his left hand around his hardened length and started to pump. But it wasn’t about him and twenty-four hours of pent up frustration.
No.
It was all about Felicia, about her strawberry scent all around him, her bright emerald eyes glimmering with seduction and determination as they looked up at him. She’d be like that, he could tell. Everything about her spoke of her determination and fiery spirit. She’d even take getting him off seriously, like a puzzle to solve. Those eyes like precious stones would gaze up at him, and she’d bite her lip just so as hands infinitely softer than his caressed his member.
His head arched back, hitting the shower wall. His knees were going weak, but they still held him. He could feel the orgasm about to crest through his body so he pumped harder, his fingers spreading furiously over himself.
He squeezed his balls with his right hand and then caressed his sensitive head with his fingertips. That desire and wish for them to be hers, even if what they had was a business arrangement and nothing more—that was all he needed.
He came, the largest tsunami crashing through him, like the ocean was emptying over him even as he spurted into the drenching shower. Zahir groaned but forced himself to stay upright. He’d gotten just a taste of what he truly wanted, a pale imitation of what Felicia could provide.
If only he knew how to appeal to her, to break down her walls.
But that would come with time.
Right now, he had to rest. The flight would be long enough, and he needed every bit of sleep he could muster in order to plan the seduction of the indomitable Ms. Ryan.
***
“Oh my God! You have to tell me everything!” Elena rushed down the private corridor of the Cairo airport and flung herself into Felicia’s arms. “Mom gets moved to the best hospital—with a private room, no less—no questions about payment asked. Then I’m whisked first class to Cairo, and now we’re about to take a private jet. I mean, holy shit! I thought it would be another airline, but no, we’re in the private dignitary section. That’s crazy.” Her sister was still talking even as she adjusted the slipped straps of her tank top. Then she worked on smoothing her long, slightly stringy dishwater blonde hair over her shoulder. “Seriously, Fe, how did any of this happen?”
Felicia rolled her eyes at the childhood nickname. But if the sudden splendor of boarding a private jet took Elena’s mind off of some of the trauma she’d recently experienced, then Felicia was glad for it.
“Honey, I have so much to explain to you, I know, but there’s a person I’ve met.”
“It must be more than just ‘met,’” Elena said, her eyes going wide. “I didn’t know you were dating.”
“I’m not,” Felicia said stiffly.
Eventually she’d have to explain everything to Elena, including that she would be the mother of the next heir to the Jardanian throne. The whole thing was so impossible, so crazy, even for Felicia, still. For right now, Felicia wanted to ease Elena into the situation as well as she could. Besides, she couldn’t quite answer what the hell she was thinking except that she needed the money badly, and that it was the only thing she could think of to keep her mom and sister safe and cared for.
“Okay, then a guy you just met is flying you and your little sister to his palace in his private jet, and caring for Mom why?”
Felicia bit her lower lip. The biggest problem about being related to Elena was that they shared a gene pool, a bright one. She wouldn’t fall for lies and half-truths for long. So she gave her sister as much of the truth as she could so that they could make their way to the jet in relative peace.
“He was in the dean’s office suite the day my roommate Sienna set me up to get expelled with a terrible prank. He took mercy on me and made some arrangements mostly because he felt sorry for me.”
“He must really feel sorry,” Elena said as she linked her arm through Felicia’s and dragged her out to the tarmac.
Felicia had expected a small commuter jet, the type that made short hops between nearby cities. But the jet that awaited them looked more like a commercial airliner. Not that she was an expert. At least a dozen men in suits scurried around the stairs or the luggage, a few of them even talking into ear pieces. “Damn! That’s so cool. It’s like we’re famous or something.”
“I’d say we’re the famous ones.” A new voice sounded from behind them.
Felicia turned and saw Zahir and a slightly shorter man. He looked much like Zahir, but clean shaven and with vibrant green eyes rather than Zahir’s rich brown.
“Hello,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m—”
“Felicia, believe me, I’ve definitely heard of you,” he said. “You’re quite the interesting story from my brother.”
“Am I?”
“Ooh!” Elena exclaimed, bouncing on her toes. “Can you tell me what you’ve learned about her, because I always love embarrassing stories.”
The stranger reached out and took Elena’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Well, Little Bit, I only tell the good stories to people over twelve.”
“I’m fifteen!”
“Still far too young for the best of my stories, but I’ll tell you all about the wonders of Jardania if you sit across from me. I’m Jaheer, Zahir’s far better-looking brother,” he said with a wink at the older man behind him.
“Are you the younger brother? ‘Cause then it’s not like you’ll ever be sheikh,” Elena blurted out.
Zahir chuckled and bowed toward Elena. “You’re honest. I like that about you. I also like anyone who can leave a motor mouth like Jaheer sputtering.”
His brother had turned an unflattering shade of purple. “I’m more than just the ‘spare.’”
“I’m sure,” Elena said, nodding fiercely. “I was just saying that it sucks being the younger sibling. You kind of get pushed off to the side.”
Jaheer recovered and crooked his arm out for her. “I’ll help you onto the plane, Bit. Besides, I’ll let you in on a secret, one you must have figured out by now.”
Her little sister’s eyes widened as she and Jaheer bounded up the stairs. “What?”
Jaheer turned back to Felicia and Zahir and winked before whispering sotto voce for Elena. “You get to break the rules more. Your parents are always focused on the oldest; they have all the hopes and dreams pinned on them.”
“Well, I bet I can make trouble.”
“Oh, Bit, I can show you all the best ways to make messes in Jardania, trust me.”
Felicia rolled her eyes and looked at Zahir. “He’s not going to corrupt my sister, is he?”
“No,
he won’t take her anywhere untoward. Jaheer has his own reputation that could almost put mine to shame, and he has a soft spot for encouraging mischief in people even more immature than he is. But he knows very well where the lines are and never crosses them.”
She let out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear it. She’s had it rough.”
“Because of your Mom’s overdose?” Zahir asked, his voice low and sympathetic as he set a hand on her shoulder. “I promise you that, no matter what, the best doctors will keep attending her.”
“No matter what?”
“Well, we’ll do what we can for the baby and the conception. If for some reason we’re not compatible, my end of the deal still stands. I want your sister and mother cared for.”
She shook her head and regarded him fully. “But you barely know me. Why are you being so kind to me?”
He stroked her cheek, leaving her shivering at his touch. “Because you’ve been beaten down so hard by life. There’s so much strength here, and I need to nourish it. I’m just sorry Elena has been so shaken up by your mother’s experience.”
Felicia pulled back from him, a part of her feeling frozen and almost numb when she lost contact with his palm. “It’s always been hard. I went away to college because I knew if I took my shot then I could somehow earn enough for all of us. Get enough pedigree to get us out of the trailer park in Charleston. That’s one reason I came all the way to ACU—it will look great on my résumé and open a lot of doors that the local state school wouldn’t. But Elena’s been taking care of Mom since she was twelve years old and not the other way around. I admit, it’s nice to see her joking around with Jaheer. I want her to be able to actually relax. I don’t think either of us know what that is.”
He grinned and held out his arm for her to thread her own through. “Well then, my artiste, it’s time for you to be pampered.”
Chapter Seven
She wasn’t sure that falling asleep on the plane counted as pampering. She’d passed out the moment she sat down, a mix of stress and complete exhaustion from the last few days overwhelming her. She’d roused long enough to slip into the back of an honest-to-God Rolls Royce, but then those buttery leather seats had lulled her back into the sweet land of unconsciousness. Her sister’s less-than-gentle elbow in her side had finally jolted her awake. Ah yes, you could always rely on your siblings for something.
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