The Sheikh’s Fake Fiancée (Azhar Sheikhs Book 1)

by Leslie North

  Asim watched as the maid filled their glasses, leaving a half-empty bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the table between them. “So, it’s more important to preserve mother’s social niceties, rather than my own happiness for the rest of my life?” Anger burbled hot and raucous inside him, the same way it did whenever he thought too much about the infuriating dynamics of the situation.

  “It might not sound fair,” Nasir said, “but it’s right. She just wants the best for us. And you have to admit that marrying the intelligent, business-minded daughter of a Lebanese family sounds like what’s best for us.”

  “Then why don’t you do it?” Asim gulped back the rest of his wine.

  “Mother knows she doesn’t have to finagle me into a marriage. I’ll get there on my own terms.” Nasir sent him a stern look. “Your constant string of women is no secret. You might as well have a quilt made from all the strange panties left in your bedroom.”

  Asim laughed into his palm. “How horrid that would be.”

  “You must be rational here,” Nasir pleaded. “For the good of our family, for the good of our business.”

  “You sound like mother now.”

  “Well, she’s right in this instance. Besides, you need a woman who can temper you.”

  “Elena does temper me,” Asim said. “She’s got a beautiful nature. She’s poetic and artistic. The way she views the world is unlike anyone else I’ve ever met.”

  “And how does that translate into managing a business?” Nasir narrowed his eyes, sipping at his wine. “Don’t forget, the Dahoud girl is famously accomplished in business. Not only has she launched two businesses in the past three years, she’s also—”

  “She’s also a catty princess who makes the newspapers for her childish outbursts,” Asim interjected. “I can tell you right now where this match would end up.”

  Nasir shook his head, sucking at his teeth. “Fine. Then consider one last thing. If you rope Elena into this farce, so be it. But what about when it’s over? What then?”

  Asim pushed his wine glass in a pattern on the table, gnawing at his lip.

  “If she’s so special and delicate like you say, then I can’t imagine she’ll want to be dragged along in this charade simply for your benefit.” Nasir let out a terse sigh.

  Always the rational older brother. He’d go to his grave the most practical man he’d ever met. And in a way, he was thankful for it—even when it butted up against his spontaneous plans. “You’re right.”

  Nasir finished off his glass. “I’m going to bed now. I’ve got terrible jet lag.”

  “Will you spend some time with Aubrey tomorrow?”

  Nasir shrugged as he stood. “I suppose. What would you like us to do?”

  “Whatever the two of you want to do. I just want to have Elena to myself tomorrow. Get to know her a bit better.” Steal some more of those scorching kisses.

  “Yes. This once, I will. But be careful please.” Nasir squeezed his shoulder on his way out of the dining room. “Think about what I’ve said.”

  Asim’s mouth made a tense line as his brother’s words ricocheted in his mind. Pushing his own glass aside, he headed for the hallway. Maybe some sleep would do him good. Or maybe he could swing by Elena’s room and see if she was still up. Just to say goodnight. One last kiss. And a little bit more…

  With each step closer to Elena’s room, his brother’s warnings grew louder, as though he could tell he was on his way to her room. What are you really doing here, Asim? Except now, he couldn’t tell if the thoughts were his own or his brother’s admonishments.

  This isn’t fair to her. This isn’t right. His fist hovered in front of her door, a half-second away from knocking.

  Maybe his brother was right. It would be better to at least sleep on it and face the situation fresh in the morning. Let his subconscious determine if he was making a grave mistake or not, analyze the dreams that cropped up overnight.

  Asim turned and headed back to his bedroom.

  7

  Elena yawned, stretching out into the plush, luxurious bed for the hundredth time that morning. She’d woken up hours ago, technically, but insisted on staying in bed until Aubrey, the maid, or Asim came for her. They’d have to force her out of bed, really. With this thread count and the way the sunlight streamed into the bedroom at just the right angle, like a searchlight from the heavens, there was no way she would willingly get up on her own.

  A light knock on her door made her roll onto her side, blinking blearily at the door. “Who is it?”

  The door cracked open. Asim poked his head in. “Good morning.”

  Elena grinned, burrowing into the blankets. “Good morning. Come in.”

  He came into the room holding a small tray with covered dishes on it. He set it down gently on the bed, easing beside it. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Too well,” she said, propping up on an elbow. At the sight of the fine porcelain dishes, her belly grumbled. "This bed is dangerous. It actually has claws to keep me in here.”

  Asim laughed softly, lifting the plate covers. “So, it appears the monster doesn’t live under the bed, but rather is the bed.”

  Elena’s mouth hung open as she pondered his words, ideas springing to life in her mind. “Wouldn’t that be a new take on a children’s story.”

  Asim grinned. “Hmm.” He paused, arranging a vibrant plate of fruit next to toast and small pats of butter. “Where the Monster Lives, a Child’s Tale. My mother put me into bed, and tucked me in up to my head. But once the comforting light disappeared, a hovering presence slightly neared.”

  Elena perked up. “Wow. You just made that up off the top of your head?”

  Asim nodded, popping a grape into his mouth.

  “Not bad, for your second language.”

  “English is my third language,” he corrected. Elena fought a grin—why did that make him even sexier?

  “Excuse me.” She bit into a piece of lush muskmelon. “What’s your second language?”

  “French.” He chewed thoughtfully. “For business.”

  “Well color me jealous. I wish I spoke three languages.”

  He grinned, his gaze lingering on her, like he knew a secret.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “‘Color you jealous’?” He bit into a piece of toast. “You’re such an artist. Only you would know the shades of jealousy.”

  She laughed. “It’s an expression. But maybe you’re right—I do know how to paint jealousy. And a whole bunch of other things.”

  They shared a warm smile, one that made her feel like they’d known each other longer than twenty-four hours. Already, their chance meeting outside the café yesterday felt like a lifetime ago. Time seemed to pass differently on the palatial estate. The door creaked open, and in walked Aubrey and Nasir.

  “Morning, fam.” Aubrey plopped onto the end of the bed. “You’re not even out of bed yet? Sheesh.”

  “It’s impossible to get out of this bed,” Elena protested. “I’m surprised you had the strength to leave yours!”

  “Nasir came and got me up.” Aubrey sent a goofy grin his way. Already she could tell Aubrey would be working hard to win him over. Nasir was certainly the clean-cut older brother; he and Asim shared the same strong nose and dark, brooding eyes. But Nasir’s expressions were more stern, hair cropped closer, and the way he carried himself felt somehow more western. Probably from spending all that time in LA. And Aubrey had been fawning over all the dark-skinned men in this part of the world. Nasir was probably officially her new dream man.

  “We’ll be heading to the market,” Nasir said, jingling keys in his pocket. “I think it would be best to go pick out some traditional clothing for the girls, something mother would appreciate.”

  “Do you want to come with?” Aubrey popped a piece of strawberry into her mouth.

  “Um…” Elena glanced at Asim then back at the fruit plate. “No, I think I’ll stay here. I’m not quite ready to leave the
cocoon.”

  Aubrey reached out to pinch her arm. “All right. I’ll pick you out something real nice. Promise.”

  Nasir and Aubrey waved before heading out, leaving her and Asim in a pleasant quiet. Birds twittered outside, reminding her how lovely a garden walk might be. Especially if it ends up the same way as yesterday.

  “Is your brother single?” She popped another grape into her mouth.

  “He is. Or rather, he’s not, because he’s married to the business. Why?”

  “He stands no chance against Aubrey, then.” She grinned. “She’ll be all over him. Mark my words.”

  “I’m sure Nasir won’t mind. He has a particular preference for blonde American girls.”

  As Elena reached for a grape, Asim batted her hand away. “Let me.” He picked up the plump purple fruit, bringing it up to her mouth. She licked it first, then gently held it in her lips. His eyebrow shot up. She sucked at it then bit it, juice dribbling down her lips.

  “Delicious,” she said, laughing.

  “Let’s try another one.” He grabbed a piece of strawberry and, scooting closer, placed it in his mouth. He leaned, offering it from between his teeth.

  “Mmm.” She snagged the juicy fruit between her own teeth, their lips brushing. Heat sizzled through her. Just the mere touch of him provoked that reaction. What might it be like if he were to strip her naked, devour her, kiss every part of her? She might have a total meltdown. It could push her into a fatal ecstasy. Now you have to know what it’s like.

  Elena tore the fruit from his mouth and grinned, chewing. After she’d swallowed, he caught her chin between thumb and forefinger, bringing his lips to hers. A tender kiss emerged, something entirely different than the desperate, lustful make-out session from the day before. When he pulled away, something unknown flashed in his eyes.

  “I’d like to stay all day in your bed and do exactly this,” he whispered. “But I have a day planned for us, darling. We should get going.”

  The appearance of a pet name scorched through her. One day and a darling already? She’d take it—especially since it had been for her ears only. No one around to convince. “Okay. I’ll get dressed.”

  “And make sure you wear long pants,” he said, before slipping out of the room. “And sneakers.”

  An hour later, in leggings and a slouchy shirt, Elena stood at the top of a rocky outcrop, a warm wind buffeting her from all sides as they looked over the glittering sprawl of Beirut.

  Ali, their paraglide instructor and guide, gave her harness a once-over then moved to Asim’s. With a thumbs-up, it was time to launch. Elena drew a deep breath, repeating the carefully explained instructions Ali had laid out for them. One two three, one two three, JUMP. She launched herself after the running start, strong whips of wind snagging the parachute. Her stomach plummeted but the parachute soared; a moment later, she was floating effortlessly on the wind. She looked over her shoulder. Behind her, Asim beamed, pumped his fist in the air, but his smile bordered on a grimace.

  Heart beating, she scanned the cityscape, still in disbelief that she was all the way up here. This view is incredible. The Mediterranean Sea looked unmoving from so high above, like a snapshot instead of the real thing. The beach hugging the Beirut coastline was a taupe swirl, tiny colorful dots lining the periphery—probably umbrellas, or maybe even street vendors.

  “This is fucking incredible!” She threw her head back, unsure if her voice would carry. And oh, well, if it didn’t—this moment was hers and hers alone.

  Ali navigated a full air tour, executing fun dips and silly antics along the way. By the time they touched down on the landing spot, on the other side of Beirut, Elena’s legs were shaky with exhilaration. She collapsed into Asim’s arms, giggling into his chest.

  “That was so thrilling,” she said, squeezing her arms around his waist. He placed a kiss on top of her head.

  “I’m glad you liked it,” he said. “I’m afraid of heights.”

  She laughed. “Then why did you set up something like this?”

  “I’m trying to get over it,” he admitted, a boyish smile cresting his face. “Besides, I thought you might like it. Thought the views might inspire you.”

  She held his gaze, letting his words wash over her. It was sweet in a way she wasn’t used to, especially from someone she’d known so short a time. How could he appreciate her most secret parts so quickly? She swallowed a knot of emotion and stood up.

  “Well, you were right. I loved it, and they did inspire me.” She looked over at Ali, who worked at storing their gear. “I can’t wait to see the videos we filmed with the head cam.”

  “It will be phenomenal,” Ali promised. “You can relive the experience a million more times.”

  About an hour later, she and Asim sat on the back patio of a quaint café, surrounded by ferns and palms. Her legs had solidified from gelatin after their paragliding experience, and she was ready for a hearty lunch.

  “I need tabbouleh,” she announced, looking at the menu board. She flipped it over, surveying the drink menu. “And wine.”

  “Your wish is my command.” A waiter came over to leave glasses of water, and they placed their order. Once he left, Asim leaned forward, taking her hands in his.

  “I feel so comfortable around you,” he said, eyes on her knuckles. “I really like that.”

  “I feel the same way, Asim.” She sighed a little, gaze traveling over his lightly tousled hair, his shadow of stubble. “Trust me, I don’t normally let guys into my pants so quickly. I definitely feel a certain…connection with you.”

  He grinned, his gaze searing through her. “Yes. The feeling is mutual.”

  Their glasses of wine arrived, and after a thoughtful sip, Elena said, “So did you skip work to take me out today?”

  “A bit, yes.” He winked. “But I made sure my colleagues knew I would be out of the office. We have quite a good working relationship.”

  “Do you like your work?”

  He paused, gaze falling to the table. “That’s a complex question with a complex answer.”

  She grimaced. “Oh. I didn’t realize.”

  He waved it off. “It’s a fair question. I suppose you should know these things if we have any hope of convincing my mother.” He sighed. “To be honest, I don’t like my job very much, but I’m good at it. I think that’s the simplest answer. But it’s our family business, so obviously, there was no other career path available to me.”

  Elena creased a brow. “Well, what would you have done if you could have chosen otherwise?”

  Asim paused again, his gaze drifting out over the patio wall, toward the sea that sparkled in the distance. “When I was younger, I wanted to be a poet.”

  A grin overtook her face. “I knew it.”

  “What?”

  “I sensed the artist in you the second we met.” She took a triumphant sip of wine.

  Asim seemed knocked off guard. “Really?”

  “There was something there. But you sealed the deal this morning with the monster poem.” She nodded. “I can see it.”

  Asim cleared his throat, straightening, as if he were about to deliver a speech. In a steady baritone, he said,

  “Oh Beloved,

  take me.

  Liberate my soul.

  Fill me with your love and

  release me from the two worlds.

  If I set my heart on anything but you

  let fire burn me from inside.

  Oh Beloved,

  take away what I want.

  Take away what I do.

  Take away what I need.

  Take away everything

  that takes me from you.”

  Elena lifted a brow. “Did you write that?”

  He shook his head. “It’s a poem by Rumi. One of my favorites.”

  The secret depths of this man were like stumbling across buried treasure. She hadn’t imagined they might connect on an artistic level—not with the business-savvy sheikh. “It’s beau
tiful. I think you should cultivate your gifts.”

  “That would never be acceptable in my family. Believe me.” He shook his head. “We’re from very different cultures, Elena. There are many expectations surrounding my behavior and choices.”

  “Like your future wife?”

  He snorted. “Exactly. Great example.”

  “Aren’t arranged marriages a little old-fashioned?”

  “For the most part, it’s not the custom anymore. But for certain families, especially when business interests are concerned, it’s still practiced. And my family values business over all else. We’d sacrifice a relative if we had to.” He grinned. “I’m only kidding, of course.”

  “Maybe you are the sacrifice.”

  His face fell as he considered her words. “Lord, you’re right.” He shook his head, face darkening. “I’ve never wanted to marry. It just never felt like a good choice for me. And especially now—I can’t imagine marrying a woman I’ve barely met. The mere thought of her sets my teeth on edge.”

  Something inside Elena tightened at his words. The small, barely-there hope inside her that their fake engagement might lead to a real something officially died. That whimsical, fairy-tale notion that this unexpected encounter might lead to a fulfilling and dreamy future. Not that she wanted to marry him—that was even a little too Disney for her tastes—but that maybe, somehow…they could date. Just see where things went.

  Like that’s even possible. Look at this guy. Sexier than sin. Probably has half of Lebanon carrying his child.

  The thought was sobering. She straightened, sipping at her wine. “Why don’t you want to get married at all, though?”

  Asim cleared his throat. “Drink the wine that moves you / As a camel moves when it’s been untied.”

  “What was that?”

  “More Rumi, just a part of it.” A satisfied smile crossed his face, and the meaning of it crashed into her. The guy was a playboy—tasting every damn wine he pleased. Maybe it was more than half of Lebanon. Maybe he had a string of illegitimate heirs all around the globe.