The Sheikh’s Pretend Fiancée

by Leslie North

  “Go away,” Asad grunted, and then he finished his push-up. He hadn’t gotten much sleep, partly because he was angry that his expansion plans for the condos were falling through and partly because he couldn’t stop thinking of the shy strawberry-blonde who babbled and blushed like a schoolgirl.

  “Is that any way to talk to your favorite sister?” she smirked as she perched on the counter. “You should be thanking me. If it was up to you idiots, you would have scared the girl away, and then who would have warmed you in your dreams last night?”

  “I assure you, if I had another sister, I would prefer her over you.” Asad rolled over and started doing his morning crunches. He liked the punishment in the morning. It worked his body up and reminded him of the discipline that he needed in life.

  Amira rolled her eyes. “If I had a sister, we’d take over the world.”

  Asad didn’t bother telling Amira that she could take over the world all by herself. Although the youngest, she was by far the most stubborn and headstrong of the family. Combine that with her intelligence, and she was probably better suited for business than all three brothers, but her sex and her smart mouth would always hold her back.

  “Did you just come to interrupt me to grill me about the girl?” he grunted as his muscles started to ache. He pushed through. “It was nothing. I thought she was pretty. I considered taking her home. I was interrupted by business.”

  “The condo?” Her eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

  “The investors won’t commit. I don’t know what else to do.” Finishing his set, he stood and grabbed the towel. “I think it’s my youth. They don’t want to get into business with me because they think I’m still a kid.” At thirty-two, he was hardly a child, but these were men who were friends with his father and still remembered Asad from when he was a child.

  “So show them that you’re all grown up.” Amira reached over and pinched his cheek. “You’ve got stubble and all.”

  Slapping her hand away, he growled at her. “And how do you propose that I do that?”

  “What sets apart a man from a boy?” she said, inspecting her nails. Asad knew the move well, and he knew that Amira was about to say something that he wouldn’t like. “A boy is the result of family, but a man creates a family. Rashid’s birthday party is coming up, and most of the investors will be there. I suggest that you do something that seems very mature.”

  Asad wasn’t entirely sure that he liked where this was going. “And what would that be?”

  “Introduce your fiancée. You have enough women panting after you. I’m sure you can find at least one of them who would make a suitable match.”

  Asad felt a strange sense of panic. “Have you lost your mind? You want me to get married—just for a deal to go through?”

  “This is not just a deal, Asad. This is the deal that will send Dubai a message. The Sharif brothers aren’t just playboys. They’re serious about growing the city. And I’m not saying that you need to marry anyone. Engagements are broken all the time.” She hopped off the counter and reached up to pat his cheek. “But at least try to find some girl with class, will you, big brother?”

  Annoyed, he watched her sashay out.

  Her plan was insane, but it had some merit. He’d been trying to figure out how to show the investors that he was serious, and nothing had worked. He’d put together a huge presentation dinner, and they’d joked about how he liked to spend money on luxury. He’d offered to put up some of the family money to get involved, but they’d called him reckless. Last night, one of them finally admitted that it was difficult for them to do business with someone they still remembered running around in diapers.

  But an engagement would force the men to pay attention to him and see him as a man. And it just might help him close the deal.

  “Sahaar,” Liyah said in a sweet voice. “I bought you some pistachios today.”

  Sahaar straightened from the counter, her cleaning rag still in hand, and narrowed her eyes. “Now why would you do something like that when you could have bought yourself some pretty trinket?”

  “Well, I really wanted some pistachio-date pudding yesterday, but I realized that we have no pistachios,” Liyah lied as she slid the package onto the counter.

  “Why didn’t you just ask? I would have made it for you!”

  Now was her chance to finally be able to help out. “If you always make it for me, how will I be able to get it when I return?” She reached out and clasped the older woman’s hands. “Please, Sahaar. Teach me so I can take some of the culture back with me.”

  Sahaar grunted, but Liyah knew the old woman was finally relenting. Liyah was relieved to know that she could finally start to help her host-mother out—she wanted to feel more included and at home, and this would be a start. She knew it would hurt Sahaar’s feelings to tell her that being treated like a guest made her feel like an outsider.

  As Liyah helped to stir and chop, she listened to Sahaar tell stories about her two sons. They were a little older, so when Liyah had first stayed, they hadn’t been around much. Apparently, they also wanted to explore new things and were traveling across America.

  Liyah reveled in the love she heard in the woman’s voice. “You miss them.”

  Sahaar sniffed and nodded. “I do, but I know they are happy, and they stay in touch with me. Their wild stories sometimes make my heart stop!” She patted her chest and shook her head. “I love having you and Mila here. You are absolutely beautiful, and I’m so glad that you’ve returned. Please consider this your home, and I beg you to stay as long as you like.”

  Home. There was that word again, and it warmed her. She took a moment to let the feeling settle before reaching over to hug Sahaar. Despite her problems finding a job and getting comfortable in her surroundings, she knew that she’d made the right decision.

  She helped Sahaar clean up after lunch and returned to her room to look online, without success, for more jobs.

  She was just about to reach for her favorite comic books when her door flew open.

  “Liyah,” Mila whispered breathlessly. Her eyes were so wide that Liyah worried they might pop. Alarmed that something had happened to Sahaar, she rose from her seat at her small writing desk.

  “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  “Wrong?” Mila shook her head. “Liyah, there’s a summons from a sheikh—for you. A sheikh!”

  Liyah’s brow furrowed. “A sheikh? To see me? Why?”

  “I don’t know. The invitation said that he got your address from the bartender at the lounge. You put Sahaar’s address down on your license.” She took a deep breath, as if there wasn’t enough air in the room, and added in a gasp, “There’s a car waiting for you.”

  That still didn’t explain why a sheikh was asking about her—or what he wanted. Liyah had started for the door before she realized that she was still dressed in her pajamas. She couldn’t meet a sheikh dressed like this.

  Mila grabbed her hand. “Come on. We have to hurry.”

  Dragging her to the other bedroom, Mila threw open her closet door and rummaged around until she pulled out a sleek blue dress. Before Liyah could protest borrowing Mila’s clothes, her friend was throwing the dress at her, and she caught it instinctively. “Hurry! Get dressed! You do your makeup, and I’ll do your hair.”

  Liyah’s mind raced as Mila helped her get ready. The only person she could think of who even might know her was the man she’d shared a hookah with, the other night. Asad. Was he the sheikh? If so, why hadn’t he said anything of the sort? A man of that kind of status would normally throw his weight around, at least a little.

  Less than ten minutes later, Mila hustled her to the dark sedan.

  A tall, thin man stood holding the car door open, a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. When he saw Liyah, a look of surprise registered, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Call me as soon as it’s over,” Mila whispered urgently. “I want to hear all the details!” She gave Liya
h a little push toward the car.

  Liyah stumbled, but managed to catch herself, walking the rest of the way to the car with what she hoped was suitable grace and dignity. With a nod of thanks, she seated herself inside.

  The driver frowned, still holding the car door open. “You are Liyah?”

  Liyah nodded. He raised an eyebrow but quickly composed himself and shut the door. Once behind the wheel of the car, he spoke in a formal tone. “I am Ori, one of the drivers for the Sharif family. You will be meeting Sheikh Asad Sharif and his sister Mira for lunch.”

  She was about to point out that she’d already had lunch, but it would probably be in poor taste to turn down their offer. Although, she thought wryly, a little notice would have been good.

  Scooting to the edge of the seat, she leaned forward, hovering behind Ori. “Excuse me? Do you know why I’m supposed to have lunch with them?”

  “No, ma’am. I was given an address and a note to deliver, with instructions to pick you up and take you to lunch,” he said stiffly.

  “And if I wasn’t there? Or if I didn’t want to go to lunch?”

  “Then I was to find you and convince you.”

  Oh, sure. Just hunt her down. Not like there weren’t three million other people in the city. She was just about to lean back, and his eyes caught and held hers in the mirror. “I was told that you frequent a small cafe just by your home.”

  “I don’t frequent it,” she protested. “I just go there sometimes to relax.” Still, she obviously had gone there enough times for a virtual stranger to discover that it was a favorite haunt. It unnerved her a little to know that he knew so much about her.

  The rest of the car ride was silent, but it wasn’t nearly long enough to allow her to collect her thoughts. When the car parked, Ori ushered her out, and then an employee of the restaurant escorted her in. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry, as though keeping Asad waiting was a terrible idea.

  The restaurant was covered in gorgeous woodwork with a beautiful seating area, but she was escorted to a dark corner of the restaurant. Asad and Amira were seated by a window, but the shades were pulled down, and the table was protected from prying eyes by a screen of large potted plants.

  Asad and Amira were both wearing sunglasses and dressed casually, but they both carried the same air of authority. Anyone walking by would know that they were important.

  Feeling a little bit like a toy being passed around, Liyah was feeling somewhat grumpy as the hostess pulled out her chair, and she finally sat down. “I was summoned?” she asked dryly.

  To her surprise, Amira burst out laughing. “This is who you chose?” she cried out as she wiped a tear away. “Oh, this is going to go swimmingly.”

  Chose? What on earth was going on?

  Asad ignored his sister and pushed a menu Liyah’s way. “I apologize for the abrupt summons, but it was imperative that I speak with you today. Why don’t you order lunch, and we can get down to business.”

  “I already ate lunch. What kind of business?” Hope rose within her. Did he have a job for her?

  “Perhaps a drink, then?”

  Amira rolled her eyes and tapped her fingers impatiently on the table. “Stop putting this off,” she mumbled. “The woman is clearly more interested in why she’s here—and not interested in the menu.” She shook her head. “I must apologize for my brother, but he is a typical man. They never have any finesse.”

  “I really don’t understand why you’re here,” Asad sighed as he gave his sister a disapproving look. “I could have done this without you.”

  “This was my idea,” Amira protested. “I should have a hand in it. Choosing the American? Fascinating.”

  Liyah had had enough of their banter, and she waved her hand. “Hello? The American is sitting right here, and not only does she have a name, but she’d like to know what she’s doing here.”

  “Beautiful, smart, and independent,” Asad murmured. “And you wonder why I chose her.”

  Flattery. This wasn’t the typical job interview. He was wooing her, in his own strange way.

  “Chose me for what?”

  He picked up his glass of red wine and swirled it around. After taking a sip, he finally nodded his head. “I have a position available that I think you’d be perfect for. As I explained the other night, I’m working on expanding a set of condos, and I’m still negotiating the terms with investors. Unfortunately, things are not going well.”

  Liyah felt her hopes deflate. “I’m not sure what impression you got that night, but I’m a literature student. I’m not a business major. Short of acting as your assistant, I don’t think I’d be much help—and besides, I’m sure you already have one of those.”

  “You’re right. I do not need an assistant, nor do I need a business major. What I need, Liyah, is to show the investors that I’m not the child they remember so fondly. I need to show them that I’m serious about this project, and I need them to view me as a businessman.”

  She was even more confused. “You need an image consultant?”

  Amira chuckled. “There isn’t a consultant in the world who could do anything with his image.”

  Asad locked eyes with Liyah. “I am prepared to pay you handsomely for your services, and I assure you that the job is short-term. Just until I can ensure the job is completed enough that the investors won’t back out.” He reached into his pocket, withdrew a small, folded piece of paper, and slipped it across the table.

  She opened it up and felt her whole world come to a standstill. He was offering her an outrageous amount of money. This would pay off her student loans and buy her a lovely home—and a car, to boot. What on earth did he think she could do that would cost him that much money? “I don’t understand,” she whispered as she folded the paper up and pushed it away. “What do you want from me?”

  “Not much. I just need you to pretend to be my fiancée.”

  4

  Not much. I just need you to pretend to be my fiancée.

  Liyah had only been able to stare at the man as if he’d grown a second head.

  Amira quickly stepped in to explain why the plan would work, and Asad explained why he’d chosen her. They saw Liyah as soft-spoken and unassuming. She wouldn’t create scandals, and most of the investors would quickly lose interest in her after they met her.

  That wasn’t insulting at all.

  The best she could manage, before she bolted for the street, was a strangled reply that she’d think about it.

  Thankfully, the car was still waiting for her, and Ori drove her straight home. Her thoughts were muddled. The money was almost too good to be true, but she didn’t know Asad from a can of paint. Sharing a hookah for half an hour didn’t exactly build a bond of trust. At least Amira seemed honest and relatable.

  After they reached the house, Ori stopped her as she opened the door to escape the car. “A moment, Miss!” He got out, opened the door for her, and held up a hand to forestall her. At her quizzical look, he held out a piece of paper. “It’s instructions for getting in touch with the Sheikh,” he said in a solemn voice.

  She met his gaze and flushed. Did he know that Asad was trying to buy her? Not even buy, but rent? Liyah didn’t even bother to read what was written there, shoving it deep into her pocket. She needed to get away as quickly as possible. Thankfully, Mila was already at work, and Liyah quietly snuck in, hoping that she wouldn’t draw Sahaar’s attention.

  The older woman didn’t even look up from the kitchen table, but Liyah suspected it had nothing to do with her own prowess and more to do with the piece of paper in Sahaar’s hand. Sahaar dropped the paper on the table and cradled her head in her hands, and her shoulder’s slumped.

  Curious, Liyah quietly walked in. “I already want seconds,” she announced brightly and reached for a plate on the counter behind Sahaar.

  Startled, the older woman’s head jerked up. “Liyah! You scared me! You were gone when I got back. I assumed you were out, having fun.”

  Having fun
? Not exactly. “Just trying to absorb the culture.” Her eyes fell to the paper on the table, and her gut tightened. A hospital bill.

  Sahaar was still trying to pay off her husband’s medical bills, and she was obviously struggling.

  Liyah knew right then and there that she had to take the job.

  Even if the thought terrified her.

  She was surprised that Mila didn’t wake her up that night to demand what had happened, but her friend waited until the next morning to barge in on her. Mila’s makeup was still streaked from last night, and her hair was a tangled mess. She was a terrifying sight.

  “What happened?” Eyes wide, she sat on the bed.

  Liyah had read Asad’s note carefully. She was to tell no one about the proposal, and she hated lying to both Mila and Sahaar. “The sheikh was there, but he wasn’t really the one who’d summoned me,” she said quietly. “His sister and I hit it off at the lounge that night, and she wanted to invite me to the palace, to stay, for the rest of my visit.”

  Mila gasped. “Are you kidding me? That’s an amazing offer! You have to do it, and then you have to let me come visit you every single day! You are going to, right?”

  “I think so,” Liyah admitted. “But I guess I’m still thinking it over.”

  Smiling, her friend leaned over and hugged her. “I know you’re thinking about Sahaar, but I’ll still be here, and she’ll be fine. I bet she’ll be thrilled.”

  Liyah wasn’t so sure. She had a feeling that she and Mila were filling a hole that Sahaar’s family had left behind, but she also knew that the money would save Sahaar from having to sell the house to pay the bills. Guilt settled deep in her chest. “What are you doing up so early?” she said as she squinted at the clock. “Did you get off work early?”

  “No, I just couldn’t sleep. I was way too excited to talk to you. I’m going back to bed now. Liyah, you’re always doing things for other people. Even when we were young, you did everything that you could to help your mom out. Now it’s time you did something for you.”