by Leslie North
“What’s that?”
“That we leave today.”
Kishon laughed, and Chloe thought that sound could make her happy every day for the rest of her life. “I accept your proposal,” he said. “Now, pack a bag. It’s time to go.”
5
Skyscrapers.
Dubai was nothing but skyscrapers against a sky so blue and clear that Chloe thought she was still dreaming. She rubbed at her eyes and looked out the plane window again. Nope. Not dreaming.
She’d fallen asleep at some point during the flight. Kishon had spent most of it working, making phone call after phone call, and after a while his voice had lulled her into a deep relaxation.
And now they were fifteen minutes out from Dubai.
“Good morning.” She turned to find him sitting on the sofa in the private plane, a travel mug of coffee in his hand. Even the mug looked high-end. It gleamed. She wouldn’t have been surprised to find that it was gold-plated.
But the real prize was the man who held it.
“Hi,” she said, suddenly conscious of the fact that she was still wearing the black slacks and shirt she’d worn for her bartending gig. “Sorry if I slept too long.”
“No such thing,” said Kishon. “It would be a little awkward to have to carry you off the plane, but I’d do it.”
She stretched and yawned. “I’m flattered. And I really need…” Chloe cast about for her bag. She’d packed a giant old backpack from college with everything she thought she’d need on the plane. It rested on the seat next to hers and weighed a ton. Her laptop. Her e-reader. The slim metal box she kept her vital records in. But…no clothes.
“What do you need? Ask, and it’s yours.”
“My clothes,” she said softly. “I could have sworn I packed clothes, and…and my toothbrush. I left my toothbrush.” Chloe could feel the color draining from her cheeks. “My bank account—”
“—is of no concern to us,” Kishon cut in. She snapped her gaze back to his. “It’s of no concern, Chloe. I can get you anything you need. Come with me.”
It was so sexy, how in charge he was. Chloe was used to getting through life by sheer brute force. Following Kishon to the back of the plane without a moment’s hesitation was a welcome change of pace.
He’d shown her the bathroom when they first boarded. It was full size, with a far nicer shower than anywhere she’d ever lived. “This drawer is for you.” Kishon pulled open a drawer next to the sink. “It should have enough to get you by.” He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. “Take a few minutes to freshen up. There are some outfits in the armoire in the bedroom.”
Then he left, as if he knew she needed a little time without any prying eyes. The paparazzi had been an ordeal. Being trapped inside while they took pictures of her apartment through the curtains was one thing. Going out to the car at the curb was another. They’d been surrounded by the guards, Chloe tucked under Kishon’s arms, and still it had left her short of breath.
Now she was alone in a room—on an airplane—selecting a wrap dress in a green jewel tone that was nicer than anything Chloe had ever owned. It was one of ten similar outfits in the armoire.
No crowd greeted them when they stepped off the plane, going down the stairs into a waiting SUV. Kishon gave the driver directions in Arabic while Chloe stared out the window, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. They were in Dubai. She was with a king. She had a thousand questions, but when she opened her mouth to ask one, she saw that Kishon was swiping and tapping rapidly through his phone. He must have felt her looking, because he glanced up.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his knockout smile throwing her for another loop. “I have one more call to make, and then I’ll be all yours. It’s business.” He shot her an apologetic look and dialed.
It left a strange taste in her mouth, that phone call. But why? Chloe shouldn’t expect Kishon to actually be a doting fiancé. And anyway, she should keep her focus where it belonged—on soaking up the sights and painting the city. It was an enormous, overwhelming gift to be able to do this. Expecting any more from Kishon was only being selfish.
He hung up his phone only as they were pulling up in front of a shopping mall as big as a palace. The mall was something special—it looked like a modern art installation, only one that displayed stores instead of art. Her pulse kicked up. “We’re shopping?”
“We are,” he said, taking her hand in his. “And making some changes to my security team.”
The moment they stepped out of the SUV, a man in a dark suit jogged up to Kishon and slapped him on the back. “Congratulations on the engagement,” he said.
“Oh, stop.” Kishon clasped the man’s arms, then turned back to Chloe. “This is my cousin Matek. He’s head of security for the royal family. This time, he stayed back with Chakir, but now that the stakes are higher, he’ll be with us. Matek, this is Chloe. My fiancée.”
Matek had a firm handshake and a nice smile, and he ran point as they were escorted into the mall. The security team had doubled since they took off. Chloe didn’t know why until they were fully inside. The men had cleared a path for them all the way to a designer store that Chloe had only seen in magazines.
Kishon greeted a woman inside with a kiss to both cheeks. “My fiancée, Chloe Sanderson,” he said, and this time she did feel like a fiancée. It sent a strange shiver of pleasure down her spine.
The woman, it turned out, was the designer. For the entire brand. And Kishon had called ahead, so a rack of clothes in Chloe’s size was already waiting in a huge private dressing room in the back. Kishon led her there, right up to the rack, and took a seat in a low, overstuffed chair. A pot of coffee waited on a side table, and Kishon poured himself a cup.
“Am I supposed to…” Chloe gestured at the rack.
“Try on whatever you’d like.”
She glanced around, but there was no smaller room within the room. No curtain. “Are you going to stay?” The thought sent heat racing to her cheeks.
“Of course I’m going to stay.” Kishon gave her a wicked grin. “I promised you my undivided attention.”
Chloe had never once felt like such a queen. It made her feel sultry and luscious and wanted, and she reveled in that feeling. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
A gleam came to Kishon’s eyes. “Absolutely sure. Now let me help you with those clothes.” He stood up and came over, biting his lip. “Where do we start? Ah, yes. Here.” He dispensed with her dress as quickly as he had the night before, then her pants.
“Do you have a special talent for undressing women?” He brushed his hands over her hips.
“Just you,” he said, and something deep in her core tugged toward him. Kishon studied the rack. “What about this?” He pulled out a red dress with demure long sleeves and a hemline that looked dangerously short.
Chloe laughed nervously. “Where would I wear that?”
“In my rooms at the palace.”
“For what…kind of occasion?”
“For me.”
They locked eyes, and Chloe’s knees went weak.
Kishon pulled the dress over her head, and she all but swooned into his arms. She let him turn her toward the full-length mirror in the dressing room, and she watched as he adjusted the dress over her body, his hands lingering in all the places she so wanted him to touch—her breasts, her hips, the flat of her belly. He wrapped his arms around her and dipped his head to kiss the side of her neck.
“I don’t—I don’t think this is part of a fashion show,” she breathed.
“Hmmm,” he said. “What about this?” He stroked one hand down and down and down until he cupped her through her dress.
Chloe blushed deeper than she’d ever blushed in her life. “That’s not fair.” She nudged him back with her elbow.
“Isn’t it?” teased Kishon. “Your face matches your dress now. It’s lovely.”
He kissed her like that—a royal tease—with every outfit she tried on, until Chloe forbid him
to touch her unless he could promise her a locked door.
“Fine,” said Kishon, sounding only slightly chagrined. “We’ll go somewhere soon. But first, you need a ring.”
The jewelry store was near the boutique, and every case sparkled with beautiful pieces. Chloe headed straight for the back.
“Where are you going?” called Kishon.
“To the sale…case.” Her voice trailed off, and she felt another wave of blush attack her cheeks. “Right, right.”
They lingered in front of the cases up front, which had been rearranged in advance of their visit. In the second case, in the second row, Chloe saw it.
An art deco ring in shining silver.
“You like that one?”
“I do.” Her throat ached with the emotion of the memory. “I really do.”
He tipped her face up toward his and kissed her. “Then come to the back with me.”
They went past the sale case to a private room. Kishon’s guards jockeyed with the jewelry store’s own security guards for position outside the door as the jeweler brought a tray of rings into the room and put it on the polished table in front of them.
They were fake. They had to be fake.
But—no. Nobody guarded a room like this for fake jewelry.
She couldn’t breathe.
These rings were massive. Too massive. You could stub your toe on one if you dropped it to the floor. Sweat pricked at Chloe’s palms. “Kishon, these are—” Too much. They were just too much.
“Try on some of these,” he said, and then he asked one of the assistants to bring the art deco ring.
One ring, then two, then three. All of them felt ridiculously heavy on her hands, as if they’d drag her to the ground and keep her there. By the sixth, she knew she was making a strange expression. She knew, because Kishon noticed.
“You don’t like them,” he said gently.
“It’s not that. They’re gorgeous. But they’re a lot.”
He laughed, low and familiar. “They are a lot.”
“More than I’m really…comfortable wearing.”
He gestured to the jeweler, who presented her the Art Deco ring. The moment it was on her finger, Chloe knew it was the one. “This is it,” she said with a happy sigh. “I love this.”
Kishon’s eyes lingered on hers. “Give me a moment, please.” His voice was directed at the guards, and within a few seconds, they were all gone, including the jeweler.
Chloe’s heart beat faster. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, not at all. Not at all.” He took her hands in his. “During this engagement, you’re a reflection on me. My wife should have a sizable ring, to demonstrate my ability to provide her with nothing but the best. It must be perfect.”
Chloe glanced down at the art deco ring. “I think this one is perfect. Shouldn't the ring be a good fit for me, too? The right fit for our situation?”
He looked deeply into her eyes. “This design is special to you.”
Her throat went tight. “It’s just like my grandmother’s ring. I would sit at her feet as much as I could growing up and twirl it around her finger while we looked at art books together. I’m not going to cry.” She laughed, wiping at the corners of her eyes with a knuckle.
Kishon grinned at her. “I think I have a solution.”
He stepped away to summon the jeweler, and soon the man reappeared with a single velvet box.
Inside was an art deco ring in an even more delicate design. It was larger than the one she’d picked out, but not as big as the rocks Kishon had been pushing. Chloe slipped it on her finger.
Magic.
Joy, bubbling like champagne, filled her from her toes to the top of her head. Pure joy. She had never known she could feel such joy from a ring…except when she was small, and she’d loved her grandmother’s ring. This was meant to be.
She looked at Kishon, vision blurring with tears, speechless.
He leaned in and kissed her with gentleness and care, and in that moment, Chloe was safe. The feeling of security suffused the air around her and every breath she took. Her heart thumped loudly.
“Will it do?” asked the jeweler.
Kishon took her hand and squeezed. “She’ll wear it out of the store.”
6
Kishon studied Chloe from across the table. She looked as radiant as he had ever seen her. The new clothes—they were nothing short of a revelation. He’d seen her in her black bartender’s uniform and the wrap dress from the plane. The deep pink dress she wore tonight was based on the robes of his people, but cut closer to fall along the curves of her body in a way that made his mouth water more than the food they were sharing in his private dining room.
“You seem a little nervous.” She was radiant, yes, but Chloe also tapped her toe against the floor, a subtle movement he couldn’t help but notice.
“Not nervous,” she said. “Just thinking. This is delicious, by the way.”
“One of the chef’s best recipes. Nobody makes better kabobs.” The food was one of his favorite parts about being back at the palace. He loved international travel for the sights and the women, not the cuisine.
He’d been hungry when they landed in Hamari a couple of hours before, and when they’d come into the palace through his private entrance, dinner was the first thing on his mind—along with showing Chloe what Hamari had to offer. The whirlwind tour of Dubai had been like something out of a dream, even for him. Of all the women he’d met, he’d never treated one to a transformation like Chloe’s. It hadn’t been about changing her looks—her honey-blonde hair was the same shade it had been—but he’d seen how much she relished a turn in the chair at the best salon in Dubai. Sitting across from him now, hair falling in shining waves over her shoulders, her nails freshly done, and that pink dress—God, that pink dress—she looked like the fiancée of a sheikh.
“I thought I would spend the day in the city tomorrow.” Chloe’s face glowed with excitement. “The new easel kit you got me is beyond. I bet it’ll even make me into a better painter.”
“Right.” He sipped the wine that had been perfectly matched to the food. “About that…there might not be time to paint in the morning. Perhaps the rest of the day.”
The smile on her face dimmed. “No? I thought—” She wrinkled her nose. “Never mind what I thought.”
“This is the being my fiancée part of our arrangement,” he said gently. “The first thing we need to do in the morning is introduce you to the elders.”
“That’s your council, right?” Chloe grimaced. “From what you’ve told me, they sound like they might be a little uptight.”
He laughed. “If by uptight you mean obsessed with our traditions, then yes. They’re a little uptight. But they should be thrilled to meet you. They’ve asked me to find a wife a hundred times over the years.” Worry twinged in his gut. He hadn’t found a wife the traditional way, by letting the elders play matchmaker.
“Are you sure I’m what they have in mind?”
Chloe was certainly not what the elders had in mind. She was not from the upper crust of Hamari society. She was not wealthy. And by now, everyone had seen the footage of her punching a man in the face—hardly something a woman of class in Hamari should be doing, according to the council.
“Not exactly,” he hedged. “But you’re what I have in mind.”
Chloe flipped her hair over her shoulder. “How could you not? I’m practically a princess.”
I could make her a queen. The thought floated into his mind around the firm walls of the commitment he’d made to himself. He wasn’t going to marry a woman who didn’t love him for him. That woman couldn’t be found on Earth. Not even Chloe. That was the fatal flaw of being king. The people you met could only see you for your riches and royalty.
Chloe hadn’t treated him that way at the bar, though, so there was a chance…
No. There was no chance that their fake marriage would turn into anything real. After all, he’d bribed her to come
here. As fiercely hot as things were between them, she was still here because he’d offered her a dream vacation, not because she was deeply in love with him.
Which was good. Love would make things awfully complicated.
“Practically a princess? You’ll be a queen, sooner rather than later.”
“Ooooh. Say that again. I liked the sound of that. I—” A yawn interrupted her, and Chloe blinked hard. “Wow, sorry.” She flashed him a smile that sent attraction buzzing all down his core. “All this luxury is tiring me out.”
He went around the table and offered his hand. “Then I have just the place for you.”
Kishon led her down the hall to his bedroom. The bedroom suite was separate from the more public living area at the front of his apartment, and now it seemed vast in front of him. The guest room seemed almost too far from his own bedroom. Past his exercise room, a short hallway connected to a guest suite with its own bathroom. In earlier generations, it had been the queen’s suite. Fitting.
“This is my room?” Chloe beamed up at him. “This is too much, Kishon.”
“Too much for my fiancée?”
She squeezed his hand, and the low laugh at the back of her throat made him hot under the collar. He could take her to bed right now, but…she needed time. Time before the reality of this arrangement set in in the morning.
“I’ve had all your things brought in and unpacked, so you’re free to relax. Get some rest.” He nudged her into the room.
She turned around and tipped her head back. Kishon took the invitation and kissed her, the sweet taste of the wine dancing on her lips. Chloe drew him backward into the room, but when they broke apart, another yawn overtook her.
“Get some rest,” he repeated, a fond ache in his heart.
“Really? My first night in the palace and you’re sending me to bed?” Chloe pouted, then laughed, the laugh turning into a yawn. “You have a point,” she admitted, and Kishon dropped a kiss on the top of her head.