The Sheikh’s Fake Engagement: The Blooming Desert Series Book One

by North, Leslie

  A buzzing sound came from Mahir’s pocket, and he snatched a phone out at top speed. “My wife,” he said apologetically to Tali. “She’s pregnant, and it’s taking its toll on both of us. Hello, dearest.”

  Mahir turned away, and Tali gaped up at the sprawling building of gleaming white. It soared into the sky above them and spread its arms around them. Flags flew in the breeze against the pure blue of the sky. The national flag, the royal flag, and one representing the ancient union of the regions of the country. The king’s family had brought them together. Now they were secretive, private. Nobody ever got to see the palace this way. Not with the royal family being so closed off. King Hamid must have been furious about her father’s debt, for him to come to their shop himself.

  “My darling,” Mahir was saying. “I’ll be home as soon as I’ve finished working. I know. I know. There’s not much longer, and then you’ll have the baby—”

  Tali put a hand gently above his elbow. “Finish your call,” she said softly. “Go home, if you need to. I’ll be all right.”

  He shot her a thankful look that came along with a certain amount of suspicion. At what? She had no idea. But there was no way anything could happen to Tali at the palace. The place was crawling with servants, a set of guards at the door. She chose a direction and started walking. Going inside didn’t seem like the best idea at the moment, so she chose another gate, this one also staffed by two guards. One of them leaned in to pull it open for her. The gardens. Yes. That’s where she needed to be.

  The palace was known for its sprawling gardens, though Tali had never visited. Obviously. Most people had never visited. But wow, these gardens were something else. She’d stepped into an explosion of color, a tamed rainbow. Planters on either side of a wide path boasted flowers in full bloom. Pink, white, purple, and all of them looked gorgeously lush. Tali breathed in the flowers’ perfume permeating the air. Okay. So she was a guest in the palace. That didn’t mean she’d take any time off work. She was in the middle of designing a website for a client. And, also importantly, she had to get her accessories in order.

  Tali had spent the last month designing a collection of accessories for her friend Roshin Gauhar’s first fashion show. She’d met Roshin at the local college, and the two women had hit it off. Now, Tali had finished her first collection of jewelry. Her heart beat wildly at the thought of all those perfect pieces. Shimmer, she’d call it. And the models at Roshin’s fashion show would wear them proudly. If she could get everything settled from the palace.

  She strolled through the gardens, bending down to brush her fingertips against dewy petals. Her friend Gina would know all the names of the flowers. She’d be really interested to know about unusual blooms in the gardens. Hmm. She’d have to check it out. And she’d have to spend more time in the garden, too. The colors and shapes had all kinds of modern jewelry designs popping into her mind like magic. Who cared if her clients hadn’t already requested it? She could show them something entirely new.

  Tali reached the end of a row and found a bower of trees, the branches arching over a delicate bench. An elderly woman snoozed in the leafy shade. The Queen Mother? No. She was a famous beauty, and her pictures were regularly in the press. This wasn’t her.

  A prickle at the back of her neck warned Tali that someone else was watching. The heat of the sun kissed her arms, and she kept her body relaxed. No one in the flower beds, no one else on the bench. The old lady slept peacefully. Her eyes landed on a ladder, kicked flat onto the ground. Tali followed the thick trunk of the closest tree up and up and up until she met a small pair of chocolate-brown eyes.

  A little boy.

  The prince.

  Her breath caught. He was in the lowest of the thick branches but still far over Tali’s head. His chin quivering, his eyes bright. The ladder—of course. He couldn’t get down.

  Tali crept close to the tree and met his eyes. “Can I come up, too?”

  He nodded, face solemn.

  She pretended to try climbing the tree with her bare hands and failed, frowning. Then she cast about for the ladder. The boy’s face lit up.

  “Yes, yes,” he whispered. “That’s how you get up.”

  She wasn’t about to tell this little boy, who she thought was probably five, that her least favorite thing was heights. Tali gamely climbed the ladder and met him on the branch. He scooted over to make a little room, one hand clutching the swaying bough, the other gripped around a book.

  “Hi.” She gave him her warmest smile. “What are you reading?”

  “The Treehouse Gang.” His face had gone pink with what she hoped was relief. “I really like it.”

  “My little brother Omar likes those books, too. He’s eight. How old are you?”

  “Five.” He was sweet, with those huge dark eyes and dimples. “How old are you?”

  Tali laughed. “I’m twenty-four.”

  The little boy screwed up his face, then stuck out his hand. “You’re old. I’m Rafiq, prince of Qasha.”

  They shook. “I’m Tali...guest. Of Qasha.” No, nope—she was not going to explain the weird arrangement she currently found herself in to little Prince Rafiq. “Have you seen the cartoons of The Treehouse Gang? They’re pretty good.”

  “I’m the leader of the treehouse gang,” said Rafiq in a funny voice. Clearly, he’d seen the cartoons. The two of them went back and forth, Tali laughing, Rafiq smiling shyly.

  “Rafiq! My god.” The shout shattered their game, and Tali looked down into King Hamid’s eyes. Oh. Oh. The nanny leaped from her bench.

  “I’m so sorry, your highness. I—I can explain. I—”

  More people streamed in behind Hamid. A woman in a maid’s uniform—black and sleek, with a white collar—came to the nanny’s side and guided her away. Rafiq trembled at Tali’s side.

  “This is unacceptable. Where were the guards? I want answers.” Hamid’s security man came to stand next to him.

  Angry or afraid? Tali couldn’t tell. One of Hamid’s hands clenched into a fist. She had to do something.

  “We’re all right,” she called down from the branch. “Just talking about The Treehouse Gang. Rafiq, do the voice you just did for me.”

  The little boy’s face lit up and he launched into several lines from the show in that strange, quacking voice. Hamid’s expression relaxed. Not a lot, but a little.

  “Isn’t that funny?” prompted Tali.

  A beat passed. “Funny,” answered Hamid.

  “I think we should go down.” Tali leaned toward Rafiq to make the words seem conspiratorial. “Want to go down with me?”

  He nodded, a new wave of relief relaxing his features. Tali got herself onto the ladder, and Rafiq was on her back in an instant.

  “This is like what Scruff did,” he said into her ear. “In Good Work, Treehouse Gang. He held onto Joey’s back.”

  “Exactly.” Tali’s feet hit the ground, and she swung him off her back and to his own spot next to Hamid. “And now we’re down. Nothing happened, and we’re both safe and well.”

  Rafiq stuck his hand into Hamid’s, and a rush of affection nearly took her to her knees. Affection...and desire. The hard-faced king was a thousand times sexier up close. Tall. Muscled. He had control over every inch of himself, and yet...he was looking back at her with a heat in his eyes that Tali recognized.

  “Tali was talking to me about cartoons. Nanny fell asleep, and my ladder fell down, and then—”

  “And then it was time to go inside.” Hamid’s firm tone didn’t seem to bother Rafiq. “Thank you, Tali.”

  She thought about the sound of her name on the king’s tongue for the rest of the day. Dinner—alone in her private apartment—was a pretty distracted affair, because Tali also couldn’t stop thinking about his body. The most sculpted ass she’d ever seen, hugged by pants that must have cost a fortune. Muscular shoulders. His angular, regal face. Lips she wanted to touch for herself.

  A knock at the door broke her out of her reverie. A maid
come to collect the dinner tray, probably. Tali tried to brush the heat from her cheeks on her way to answer the door.

  But there was no maid.

  The king himself stood in the hallway.

  “Your Highness.” Why did he make her heart pound like this? “How can I help you?” Tali stepped back to let him in, and he stepped past her, leaving the faint scent of spice behind. His cologne. Her face went even hotter.

  “I wanted to see if you were settling in all right.” Hamid scanned the room as if he’d never seen it before, and then he met her eyes. His black hair set off dark brown eyes with flecks of gold and—was that green? If Tali wasn’t careful, she was going to lose herself in those eyes. “Do you have everything you need? If there’s anything you require—any other furniture, anything—all you need to do is ask any member of the staff. You are our most honored guest.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Tali murmured. “But I’m not quite a guest, am I?”

  Hamid narrowed his eyes. “You are.”

  “Not quite,” she insisted in the delicate, feminine way that usually worked with her father. “I can’t spend my days at leisure in these rooms. They’re lovely, of course...”

  He considered her. “Miss Mildred has expressed a wish for some help in looking after Rafiq. He’s too active for her these days. And if you don’t want to spend your time at leisure, then that role for you is the perfect solution. It would make this situation better all around.” Hamid took a step toward her. His eyes looked stormy, focused like lightning about to strike. “It will be far better for everyone if you’re not just a young, single, attractive woman at loose ends in my palace.”

  A light breeze could have blown her off her feet. He had just called her attractive. And not only that, but he’d said it with heat in his eyes. She thought about how pinched and worried he’d looked when Rafiq had been up the tree, and that flash of surprise when his son opened up to her. Everyone in the kingdom knew that Hamid loved his son, but nobody knew anything about little Rafiq.

  Nobody except Tali. Her heart thundered at the thought of being invited into the palace’s inner circle on her first day. Wow. Wow.

  “Of course I’ll help,” she said smoothly. “But I’ll need time to myself during the day or in the evenings to work on my own projects. I have deadlines.”

  “Fine.” Oh, he was so cool, verging on cold. Why did she find it so hot? Traditions weren’t Tali’s thing, and here she was, her knees wobbly and weak. Well, she wasn’t going to let him see that. She’d spent a lifetime taming her subversive streak and finding ways to get her voice heard and her goals achieved in spite of her repressive father.

  “And we’ll also need lumber. And perhaps a carpenter.”

  Hamid’s eyebrows shot up. “For what?”

  She had his full attention, Tali could tell. It felt like having the full attention of the sun. “We’re going to build a treehouse.”

  3

  The summons came rather early the next morning while Talitha was sliding the last comb into her hair. Her usual low bun from the jewelry workshop wasn’t quite enough for palace life, but she didn’t want to go overboard, either. After all, she was a hybrid guest and employee. It couldn’t get any stranger. She went to answer the soft knock at the door and found a maid waiting there.

  “Good morning, Miss Rahman. The king has requested your presence at breakfast. If you’re ready now, I can show you to the dining room.”

  “Of course.” The maid was so fresh-faced and earnest that Talitha forgot her game of tug-of-war with Hamid. Ah, well. Maybe there would be opportunities at breakfast to inch closer to her own way. “Please and thank you.”

  The maid guided her to a dining room near Talitha’s guest suite. The room, elegant with its antique furniture and hangings, was brightened by sun pouring in from the gardens. Hamid stood ready at a table by the enormous windows, which looked out over lush garden greenery and a fountain featuring a sculpture of a warrior princess, her shield raised and her white robes flowing around her.

  “Good morning.” Hamid greeted her with a nod, then held out her chair for her. Talitha couldn’t remember the last time a man had stuck to those kinds of protocols. Hamid took his seat only when she unfolded her napkin and spread it on her lap.

  “Good morning to you, too.” Talitha considered him across the table. “Many thanks for the breakfast invitation.”

  A smile lit up his features, but it was gone in a flash. “I wanted to make sure your first night in the palace was satisfactory.”

  “Oh, very.” Except for the part where I tossed and turned in that big, empty bed for no apparent reason. “My rooms are gorgeous.”

  A flicker of pride. “I’d also like to discuss my son and the kinds of activities his nanny generally does.” The list, Talitha found out, was short. The nanny read stories to Rafiq, worked on teaching him to read, and provided him with coloring books.

  “I love a good coloring book. Does his room have morning light like this?” Talitha tipped her head back and drank in the sun streaming through the window. “This space is perfect for me. I love the garden/fountain vibe.” She raised her head. “Forgive me. It’s a little dark in my rooms with all the screens and curtains. The sun wakes me up.”

  “You can change anything you want,” Hamid said, a strange warmth in his voice. “Anything at all. The staff will help you.”

  The staff would also serve them breakfast. A uniformed waiter presented Talitha with a silver tray. Oatmeal. Eggs. Two crispy strips of bacon. A fruit cup overflowing with strawberries and blueberries.

  “This is...so much perfect food. How did you decide on this for breakfast?”

  He let out a short laugh. “My breakfast is perfect. Your breakfast is lovely.”

  That made her laugh, too. “What’s the difference?”

  She watched as he mixed his wheat germ and cereal grains with honey. Hamid didn’t have a fruit cup—he had an entire apple and five strawberries. He cut the fruit with military precision. “A lovely meal,” he said as he cut into the apple, slicing off an ideal bite, “is one I’d be proud to serve to any guest of the palace. But my meal is perfect. It’s been calibrated to be that way.”

  “Calibrated.” She turned that over in her mind. “Did you serve in the armed forces?”

  “I had private instruction at the National Military Academy and participated in field exercises.” Hamid’s eyes flicked down to his food, and she felt a sudden loss. Look back at me. “I didn’t think it was appropriate to take over the leadership of the nation without relevant military experience.”

  Talitha had the distinct sensation that she had stepped off the shallow end of the pool and into the deep end before she was ready. The breakfast—she’d hedged. It was too much food, but obviously she couldn’t say that. She wouldn’t say that. She ate a strawberry, then a few blueberries.

  “Is there something else the cooks can prepare?”

  Hamid had been watching her. Her cheeks burned. “No need.” She waved him off, then laughed. “I usually just have a bowl of Choco Loco cereal with my younger brother in the mornings. It sounds silly when I say it out loud.”

  He looked at her like she’d been dropped in from another planet. “Your breakfast is a bowl of sugar cereal?” There was no judgment in his tone, only curiosity.

  “Well, it’s more than breakfast. We’re collecting the free gifts they’ve been putting in the boxes. Little trinkets, wrapped in a plastic packet. My brother loves them. Does Rafiq?”

  Hamid’s eyes went wide. So she’d been mistaken—that had been judgment in his tone. “No. Never. Rafiq doesn’t eat that kind of food.”

  She felt foolish, sitting with the king and picking at her fruit bowl. She’d have felt less foolish eating Choco Loco with her own brother. “I can handle the list of activities you mentioned,” Talitha said briskly. “I’m sure you have other things to get to this morning.”

  Hamid patted at his mouth with his napkin and put it on the table. “I have
a little free time.”

  Talitha blinked. For her?

  “Come with me.”

  Hamid led her on a brief tour of the palace. Here was the corridor for the offices, where she could find him if an emergency arose. Here was where she could usually find the maid on duty. He introduced her to her own personal maid, a young woman named Sarai, and to her own bodyguard, Karam.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” she told both of them, and she meant it.

  But the real pleasure was the art. Talitha couldn’t stop looking at it. Hamid kept having to stop for her because she’d pause at this alcove or that one, peering down at the pieces on pedestals, each one with its own lighting. She saw inlaid metalwork and woodcarvings. Talitha was bending down to see one—an image of a running horse—when Hamid came to stand beside her.

  “There are also ceramics.” At close range, Talitha was reminded again and again of how impossibly good Hamid smelled. Intriguing. A spice all his own, overlaid with clean, fresh soap. It made her want to be close to his skin. “The palace treasures date back to the ancient civilizations—the ones that were here before we united the regions.” We. He said it so easily. His royal family. His rich voice was part of a tradition of rulers stretching back across centuries. “Spend as much time here as you’d like. I have business to attend to.”

  Talitha met his dark eyes. No, stay. “Of course. Thank you. I’ll—I’ll be here.”

  She watched Hamid walk away. Those were some legs. All of Hamid had been carved, shaped. He was more fascinating than the ceramics. She itched to sketch him. Ah—the treasures. The treasures were what sparked her reaction, of course, of course. Anyone who saw these pieces would react the same way. How could such beauty be kept locked away?

  A soft mewing caught her attention. She’d heard it a few times on their stroll through the palace, and now she caught sight of the source—two ginger-striped cats with green eyes. They came around a corner and bounded toward Talitha in hops and skips.

  “Beauty and the Beast,” came a voice so smooth Talitha wished she could run her fingers over it. A nervous shiver went down her spine. That voice could only belong to the Queen Mother.