Bad Sheikh's Surrogate Mistress

by Brooke, Jessica

  Chapter Eleven

  “You’re going to pace a hole through the floor, brother,” Jaheer said, his voice light with amusement. “I never knew you could harness your inner teen girl. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll find Elena among the assembled masses so you can go to the mall together.”

  Zahir leveled his best death glare at his brother, as if that would actually deter the other man. “I don’t think it’s possible to pace a hole through marble. I’m sure the floors of the palace can take it.”

  “You are pacing pretty hard,” Jaheer teased, stroking his chin. “Look, I’ve tried to hang back on all of this.”

  “Yet you’ve had more than enough opinions to offer me all day long. I’ve heard the sly jokes and felt the less-than-subtle pokes in the ribs. You think I’ve been too hands off with Felicia.”

  “I think I’ve seen less pining on soap operas.”

  “Like you watch those, Jaheer,” Zahir replied, straightened his bow tie. Currently the guests’ limos were pulling up to the estate, and soon they’d have to be in the receiving line for every ambassador and head of state from here to Spain. His tie was already perfectly straight, but the fidgeting gave him something to do, something to keep his focus locked down.

  It kept his mind off a certain sculptress and the Berlin Wall she’d shoved between them.

  He’d never struck out before, and he preferred not to be reminded of it. Too bad certain annoying younger brothers thought being blunt about everything would help the situation. Jaheer wasn’t subtle, and Zahir didn’t think the stampeding-elephant approach would gain him any ground with Felicia, but damn it if trying to explain that to Jaheer was working. It certainly hadn’t in the last month.

  “I tune in every now and then—I have to do something before the clubs open. That’s the joy of being the spare. I assure you, light as air is the head that doesn’t wear the crown. Zahir, I’ve never seen you back off from a woman you’re interested in.”

  “I’ve never been interested in a woman who resisted me before. It’s always been want, take, have. I mean with consent of course, but there was never a lack, with every starlet and princess in the hemisphere vying for my attention. I’ve given her everything she could possibly ask for. I’d give her more! Shower her with diamonds, whisk her away to Monaco or Paris, do anything she could possibly want. But that’s not the type of woman Felicia is. Dear Allah, I think that’s why I crave her so much.”

  “An authentic woman. How quaint. I like her, but I personally can’t imagine putting that much effort into anything. It’s far too difficult.”

  Zahir stopped straightening his tie and looked out the window to where yet another sleek, black limo had pulled up. But he was seeing past that, thinking of the emerald green eyes that haunted his dreams and the delicate waves of blonde hair that felt like silk to comb through.

  Oh Allah, I do have it bad.

  “The difficult ones are the ones who are worthwhile,” he said. “I just have no idea what to do. I can’t…”

  “Bribe her?” Jaheer said. “Look, I take no pleasure in this. I like having Elena around. She’s like the fun kid sister we never had. But we’re both flummoxed about why you can’t just tell her everything.”

  “I did. I talked to her yesterday at Dr. Galud’s, and she’s very adamant that we need to be a team for the baby.”

  “A team?” Jaheer said, raising an eyebrow at him.

  “Yes, like we’re about to go out and play rugby or football together. I don’t want just a teammate. I want more from her. I have since the moment I saw her.”

  “So you came up with a less than sane and less than predictable plan?”

  “Okay, so maybe ‘I need a surrogate’ wasn’t the best way to get her to come back to Jardania with me.”

  “And they say romance is dead!” Jaheer laughed.

  “She was just so frightened, and I have rarely seen such a spirited woman, when pressed on her integrity.”

  “Oh, and it doesn’t hurt that Felicia is smoking hot. You have good taste. Those curves, oh my.”

  It was a pleasure to slap his idiot brother on the back of the head. “I just can’t reach her.”

  “You clearly reached her and then some before. What happened? Did you fight?”

  “No,” Zahir said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “That’s the most confusing part. It’s the opposite. She said she loved me after we made love. Then she took it back. Who does that?”

  “Maybe a woman with hormones already flowing through her.”

  “That’s rude, Jaheer.”

  His brother shook his head and held up his hands in a placating gesture. “You misunderstand me. She’s already in a delicate condition, and she’s been thrown into a new world. A few words and even shiny trinkets aren’t going to do the trick, though the right words are a start. But, brother, you know what you have to do more than anything else?”

  “What?”

  “Sweep her off her feet tonight and make her the true Cinderella of the ball. If you want to do that, then I have just the plan you need.”

  ***

  It seemed to take forever to complete his duties as host. He got stuck for over half an hour making small talk with the queen mother of Jordan, who insisted on telling him every single detail about her granddaughter Alana, including how skilled she was as a dancer and that she regretted not being able to attend, as she couldn’t leave her studies at Harvard.

  In other words, his mother and her grandmother were clearly arranging for a fallback in case things didn’t work out with Felicia. Over the top of the Jordanian queen’s head, he stared daggers at his mother. The woman had a triumphant smile on her face, one that said that the heir might be already arranged for, but that didn’t mean a more powerful alliance by marriage wouldn’t be in his future.

  “Well, that’s great. I’m glad that Alana is doing so well and is so accomplished.”

  “She’s finishing her MBA this spring. She’s quite exceptional, and we know she comes from a good line.” The queen leaned closer to his ear and whispered sotto voce, “Adira has told me all about the girl that’s just been unveiled to the court. The royal family of Jordan can forgive you for having an heir at first from an American of no status. We know how hard it is to adhere to ancient rules, make it in the spirit and not the letter. Alana will be waiting when you ready for a wife who can be your equal.”

  He swallowed and forced himself to stay polite, even though his blood was boiling. Now that he wore the crown, he couldn’t just yell at anyone who insulted him, no matter how much they deserved it. It wasn’t diplomatic, and that was a big thrust of his life.

  “Felicia is spectacular, dear queen, and I expect to be very happy with her. Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe that Felicia has been left unattended for far too long.”

  “Well, I…” she said, looking back at him as if she’d sucked on a lemon.

  “Perhaps you and Mother shouldn’t make any more plans. I think you’ll find I always make my own decisions, and I would be sorry to see you disappointed.”

  With that, he left the queen mulling over his words as he swept through the gathering of glitterati before him: the men in tuxedos, the women in satin gowns to their feet, and the shining opulence from an ocean of jewelry. He spotted Felicia near the dance floor, talking with her sister. Elena was dressed demurely in a flowing black taffeta gown that the twins had clearly picked out—left to her own devices, he knew she’d choose something far more flamboyant and revealing. He was glad that they’d decided on something demure for the teenager and instantly felt that he owed them bonuses for their work. Malasha and Misha had truly outdone themselves with Felicia.

  Blonde ringlets spilled down from the top of her head, highlighted with ruby barrettes that gleamed under the chandeliers. The kohl rimming her eyes made their green pop like emeralds, and her eyelashes seemed a mile long. Her dress was a low cut, red silk number that hugged her curves and was just this side of appropriate for the
ball. The low neckline highlighted the delicate nature of her creamy shoulders and created space for the long diamond lavalier at her neck, highlighted by a single ruby the circumference of a wine cork at her décolletage. He’d chosen it for her himself—and feared she would return it. Now he smiled to see that it suited her so perfectly

  Everything that he’d ever known she could be and everything she’d always been was laid out before him, and he could barely think for all the blood flowing to parts further south.

  Gathering his concentration, he took Elena’s hand and kissed the back of it. “You look lovely, princess.”

  “See,” she crowed. “When Jaheer saw me he didn’t do that royal, debonair thing. You need to tell your brother that he so does not know how to treat a lady.”

  He winked at her. “I think that my brother was raised by wolves, but that’s a secret between you and me.”

  “It sure is,” she said, grinning broadly back at him. Then she eyed Felicia who stood nervously sipping water beside her. Elena bumped her sister’s hip until Felicia stumbled into him and could no longer pretend she didn’t see him. “Whoops, I am so klutzy. You two play nice…I’m off to harass the prince who should know better.”

  “Sheikh, technically,” he said, taking Felicia’s shoulders and steadying her.

  “Same diff,” Elena called as she disappeared into the crowd.

  He shook his head and looked down at his artiste. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

  “She can be, but I love her. Everything I do is for her.”

  Zahir took her drink and set it on the tray of a passing waiter. “I know how dedicated you are. I hope that’s something you bring to being a mother.”

  “But I’m an incubator, really. I, uh, met the queen of Jordan. She made my worth clear. Hell, so did quite a few other guests.”

  He clenched his jaw and pulled her closer to him, until he could feel her breath, warm and seductive, against his neck. “It doesn’t matter. They’re jealous. Half the royal families of the Middle East wanted to form an alliance with our family.”

  “Marriage and a family…they should be more than that. This should be about more than ancient codes and arcane rules, how to make powerful alliances and forge political dynasties.” She frowned down at her stomach. “Is that the world our child is going to have to navigate? A political minefield where they can’t do what their heart wants?”

  “I’m doing what mine is telling me right now,” he said, leaning down low and whispering in her ear. “I want you, and it’s not about the baby. I don’t know how to get through all your doubts in one night, but I want to start. The rest of these old bats can go to hell. You’re the woman on my arm and the mother of my child. Now,” he said, pulling her gently to the dance floor. “Let’s really make them turn green with envy.”

  ***

  Swaying on the dance floor in the arms of the sheikh, Felicia again felt like she’d fallen asleep and woken up as Cinderella. Her stomach had flip-flopped at Zahir’s words, his promises, but this time some of her doubts were actually melting away. She may have made a mess of everything by revealing too much too soon—or maybe by hiding away—but he wouldn’t be dancing with her now and really shoving it to kings and queens from all over the world if she didn’t mean something to him.

  That much was real; she could feel the truth of it in her bones.

  “You’re quiet,” Zahir said, eying her closely, those chestnut depths boring into her.

  “I’m happy,” she replied, setting her head on his shoulder as the string quartet played a waltz around them. She had no idea how to dance formally, but Zahir did. He was probably an expert on all courtly things. Still, Felicia had faith in him, knew when to follow his lead. At least where dancing was concerned.

  Maybe I’m learning to do the same thing with my heart.

  “Are you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, lifting her head. “I’ve been afraid for a while…well…since the alley, that you were just humoring me and that I’ve made a mess of everything. Now I know you’ll pick me over a literal princess.”

  “They are highly overrated, my artiste,” he said, chuckling.

  “Maybe, but they’re probably better than trailer park trash.”

  He stopped and nodded toward the far balcony. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

  “Some things should be said in private. And I never want to hear words like that coming from you again, even if you’re joking.”

  Felicia hesitated but took his hand and let him lead her past the rapt stares of the crowd. For just a moment, she actually felt like a princess, like she could be the next sheikha and actually matter. The balcony cleared before them, the few people mingling out there disappearing like leaves in the wind. The view took her breath away. The palace parapets and golden dome twinkled in the moonlight. The city buildings and more distant houses fanned out until they hit the edge of the ocean of sand.

  “It really is like a fairy tale.”

  “No,” Zahir said, leaning against the balcony next to her. “It’s real, and I need you here with me. Tell me what I can do to make you truly believe that, to make you feel it down to your bones and in your soul. I care about you, Felicia. It’s not only because of the child, and it never was. But you can’t really mean that about yourself. You’re not ‘trailer park trash.’ If anyone else in my kingdom uttered such nonsense, I’d have them fined for slander against our sheikha.”

  “But you know where I come from.”

  “I know that you fought your way up from a life of hardship. I know you grew up in poverty, but that doesn’t make you trash.”

  “I know, but they think…”

  “Who cares what anyone thinks? Most of them still think I can’t hold a candle to my father, that half my decisions are disasters. I try not to let them get to me. If you believe the gossip of the court, then it will destroy you. Don’t let the queen or my mother or anyone else make you feel lesser. You’re not. Do you hear me? You could never be anything other than my equal.”

  Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t feel like it.”

  “Then let me show you,” he said, and his lips captured hers.

  His goatee scraped against her chin, while that hint of cinnamon wafted through the air, and his tongue traced a delicate dance over her own. It was like being back in the alley. That passion had never dimmed, and his kiss made it go nova. Moaning, despite her surroundings, she pressed her body tightly against his.

  Damn it, she’d been denying herself for too long.

  “Oh cousin,” a new voice chided. “You don’t need to throw your new whore so flagrantly in front of the old folks.”

  Zahir broke their kiss and was on the new man—his cousin, she recalled—like a tiger on its prey. He wrapped one large hand around his cousin’s throat and held him so tightly that the other man’s face had gone purple.

  “You say that again. I dare you.” He pushed the man against the palace wall and lifted him so that his feet dangled above the ground. “Do you have nothing to say now, Akmul? Cat got your tongue?”

  Akmul wore the traditional flowing robes and head covering of Jardania. His long beard looked as if he hadn’t trimmed it in months, despite this evening being an official state event. Something wild and savage in his eyes made Felicia take a step back. He didn’t apologize or beg, just grinned maniacally at Zahir.

  Snapping out of her confusion, Felicia rushed to the sheikh and put her hand on his forearm. “Zahir, you need to let him down. This is not the time or place. Someone will see.”

  A vein in Zahir’s forehead throbbed, but he did as she asked, more or less. He dropped his cousin so suddenly that Akmul fell to his ass and had to scramble back to his feet.

  “You see what happens when you insult the next sheikha,” Zahir growled.

  “I thought she was just the woman with child-bearing hips. After all, that much is obvious, dear cousin,�
�� Akmul said, running his eyes over Felicia’s short frame. The insult didn’t even land. She was too busy shivering at the way he studied her like a bug under glass. “Why are you so quiet, infidel? Don’t you have anything to say in your defense?”

  “She very much will be the next sheikha, Akmul, and she’s the mother of the next ruler of our nation.”

  Akmul turned that fury back to Zahir, but the sheikh only stood taller at his cousin’s onslaught. “You pulled this all out at the last minute. The throne should be mine. The ancient laws didn’t have clauses for technicalities, but you know that’s all this farce is. You dig some tramp out of the gutter, and then you screw me out of what I deserve.”

  “You deserve nothing,” Zahir said. His fast landed hard against the other man’s jaw, forcing Akmul to stumble back. “And Felicia is the woman I care about and the mother of this nation now. So get the fuck out.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Four Months Later

  “I feel gross,” she said, as Zahir helped her to her feet.

  Getting on and off Dr. Galud’s table was no longer as easy at five months pregnant as it had been in January. With Malasha, Misha, and even Elena looking over her like a bunch of mother hens, Felicia had put on ten pounds, which made her feel awkward and bloated. And she still had more than four months to go. By then, they’d probably have to put her on a dolly and cart her everywhere.

  “You,” Zahir said, kissing her nose. “Look as gorgeous as a queen.”

  “Or like one of those weebles.”

  “Huh?”

  “They’re a kids’ toy,” she supplied as he took her arm in his. “You know? Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down? You can knock over again and again, but they just spring back up. I feel like that.” She made a motion and encircled the girth of her stomach. “I feel like I’m just going to continue expanding.”

  “The next leader of Jardania is right there, so I hope he or she does continue to grow.”

  She snorted. “We could have asked by now.”

  “Where’s the fun in that? The joy is in the surprise, in seeing what Allah has gifted us with,” Zahir said as he led her through the labyrinthine halls of the palace.