Sheikhs of Hamari: The Complete Series

by Leslie North

“I’ll wake you in the morning. No need to set an alarm.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “Hot. I like that.”

  “If you need anything, come get me. I’ll be stepping out for a few minutes but will be back soon.”

  He brushed his lips against hers again and returned to his own suite, his pulse thrumming beneath his skin. Yes, he wanted to destroy the bed in her room, but it was her first night in Hamari. His first priority was to settle back into his role as king.

  Being a king had felt so different in the states—there, he’d been a modern diplomat, speaking on behalf of his country. Here in the palace, the weight of royalty settled over his shoulders like a heavy cloak. He and Chloe would need to play the parts of traditionalists, at least for now. Maybe the arrangement had started in fantasy, but now they had to make it seem real. Chloe especially would have her work cut out for her.

  He mulled this over as he went to meet with Matek and the rest of his small council of advisors. He gave his blessing to the menu for a state dinner, signed a number of documents, and thought of Chloe. The minutes slipped by, until the grit in his eyes alerted him to the late hour.

  Back in his rooms, he padded down to Chloe’s door. The lamp on the bedside table cast a warm glow over the bed where she slept curled around a book, her engagement ring twinkling.

  Kishon breathed out a sigh. A part of him worried for her. She was good with people, so she should be able to charm the elders. But it was on Kishon to appear every inch the powerful, traditional leader. He couldn’t be the man she’d met in the bar—not entirely.

  He turned off her lamp and pulled the blankets over her, then went to toss and turn in his own bed.

  “An engagement,” Qamar said. “Has it been long planned?”

  The leader of the elders faced Kishon over the round table in the council room. Kishon kept his smile easy, his face relaxed. “Not particularly long, no. But she’s a match for me.”

  The other men shifted in their seats, barely disguising their disapproval.

  “Another American in the palace…” Zehab said this as if he’d just now been thinking about it. “Is that what’s best for Hamari?”

  “It’s what’s best for me.” Kishon stood. “If there are no other questions, I’d like to introduce her.”

  Qamar looked like he had several questions, one being what were you thinking, Sheikh Kishon?, but he only nodded his head.

  Kishon went to the door and ushered Chloe in. He’d given her a crash course in the elders this morning, and she looked gorgeous—she wore a floor-length white dress embroidered with vines and leaves in a shimmering navy. Her eyes sparkled with confidence, and Kishon’s stomach went cold with nerves. He’d been cavalier about the elders in past conversations with his brother, but for the life of him, he couldn’t summon that attitude now.

  He guided her to the table and opened his mouth to introduce her.

  “Hello, council members,” Chloe said with a wave that Kishon found utterly charming. “I’m Chloe Sanderson, Kishon’s—Sheikh Kishon’s—fiancée. It’s a real pleasure to be here, meeting you.” And then, to Kishon’s horror, she leaned across the table, hand extended for them to shake.

  Qamar looked stricken. The elders occupied an almost sacred position in the royal household. Touching them simply wasn’t done.

  Chloe’s hand wavered in the air, and a fresh heat rose to Kishon’s cheeks. It hadn’t even occurred to him in his lessons this morning to mention this bit of tradition. Teaching traditions had always been Chakir’s job. It wasn’t Kishon’s strong suit.

  She dropped her hand to the front of her dress and clasped it there. If she felt awkward, she didn’t show it, and awe crashed over Kishon like a tidal wave.

  “—galleries,” she was saying. “Are there particular styles of art that Hamari is known for? If there are any collections I should see, I’d appreciate a recommendation.” She gave them a dazzling smile.

  There was a general shuffling at the council table. “Perhaps you should introduce her to the palace galleries, Sheikh Kishon. It is clear she knows very little about our country.”

  That struck Kishon as more than a little unfair and highly judgmental.

  “Who could know everything about a country as wonderful as Hamari? I only thought it would be best to start with its best feature.” She winked.

  She actually winked at them, and Kishon couldn’t breathe.

  Zehab, a notoriously fussy member of the council, let out a laugh, and oxygen flooded Kishon’s lungs. “We are an impressive group.”

  The conversation continued, Chloe at the center. Kishon put a hand on the small of her back, which was as affectionate as he dared to be in front of the elders, and basked in the pride that filled his chest.

  There might be hope for this fake engagement yet.

  7

  The entrance to the national gardens was a sprawling version of the palace gardens and a centerpiece of the city. Chloe couldn’t wait to step through the gates. Kishon, on the other hand, scanned his phone screen, absorbed.

  “Where to first?” she asked. “Or are we just wandering?”

  Chloe stifled the urge to bounce on the balls of her feet. Her hands itched to start sketching. That was her plan—see the city with Kishon, sketch a few of the places that called to her, and then decide which ones to return to for longer painting sessions. For now, she’d only brought her sketchbook and pencil kit in a soft leather backpack, which had cost a small fortune in Dubai.

  This new life was something else.

  Kishon tapped something out on his phone, then slipped it into his pocket. It took him a moment to answer, blinking at her as if he hadn’t quite heard what she said.

  “Wandering…no. I thought we could go to the fountain at the center, which is the main attraction.” A slow smile spread across his face. “Have I mentioned that you look gorgeous this morning?”

  “You have.” Ever since he’d left her to get settled the previous night, Chloe had wanted more of him. But she’d fallen asleep waiting for him, and when she woke up this morning, he was already gone, the only sign he’d been back to his apartment a note on the smallest table in his dining room. “Twice in the car, actually.”

  Kishon took her hand, and the breath in her lungs heated. This was more like it. They walked briskly through the gardens, stopping to ooh and ahh at the more stunning flowering plants. Movement felt good. Having somewhere to go felt even better. Work at the bar had been tiring, but lingering over breakfast by herself this morning hadn’t been as relaxing as she’d anticipated.

  “Whoa,” said Kishon, pulling her back next to him and wrapping an arm around her waist, slowing her pace. “You can’t be the one pulling me along.”

  “I can if you’re the one who’s walking too slowly.” A beat of unease thumped across the back of her neck.

  Chloe felt his laugh through the touch on her waist. “It’s not the best look for the press.”

  “The press?” She hadn’t seen any reporters when they got out of the SUV, but—oh. There they were, huge lenses unmistakable through the foliage. She could see the glints and gleams of those lenses on the side paths. They were keeping their distance—they had to, with Kishon’s security forming a loose perimeter around them as they went—but the hairs on the back of Chloe’s neck stood up. One of her feet tripped against the other. “Right. All right.”

  Kishon rubbed the small of her back. “Don’t pay any more attention to them.” He turned her to face him, and her pulse rocked through her veins. How could she not pay attention to them when even her walk had to be carefully monitored for the pictures? She could hear the camera shutters now.

  It made abundant sense. After all, the engagement was for show. Back in the US, she’d had no doubt that Kishon had been attracted to her. Nobody came to a bar like that and lingered so long by himself unless he had a reason. But now, strangely, as the cameras clicked and Kishon rubbed the pad of this thumb under her chin, she couldn’t tell if any of it wa
s real.

  But real wasn’t part of the arrangement.

  Her brain knew it, but her body sure as hell didn’t. The gentle tease of his thumb and his breath playing over her lips felt plenty real. It was a second-by-second thing. One second, she was painfully aware of how Kishon had angled them so the cameras could have a perfect profile shot, and the next she was swept under by the cedar and smoke smell of him. That sparkle in his eye couldn’t be fake…could it?

  Her breath snagged, seeming too big for the space there, and finally she wrapped a hand around his wrist and tugged it down to her waist. Chloe could see the photo now. She would be smiling up into Kishon’s sexy grin, pressing his hand to her skin—

  “I came here to see a fountain,” she said when she could finally catch her breath. “Not to have you seduce me in front of the press.”

  “Oh, I could never do that,” Kishon said, wrapping his arm around her waist and tugging her toward the center of the garden. “I’ve already seduced you. They’re taking photos of the aftermath.”

  No matter how lightly he said it, and no matter how she laughed, it was the truth, wasn’t it?

  “Do you really think you’ve seduced me already?” she teased. “It takes more than a trip to Dubai to lock me down.”

  “Dubai?” Kishon’s voice rang with a warm disbelief. “I believe we spent a night together in Washington, DC, that more than counted as seduction.” He pulled her closer, and the low curl of his voice went straight to her belly, becoming a steady pulse of desire. “I seem to recall you stretched out naked on my sheets, trying to wriggle down onto—”

  “Kishon!” Chloe wasn’t in the habit of squealing, but if her cheeks got any hotter she would burst into a pillar of flame right here in the garden.

  “All right, all right.” He brushed a kiss to her temple. “We can go over that later.”

  “Maybe we could reenact it later,” said Chloe. “I don’t know if I quite remember all the details you were mentioning.”

  “No? I’m happy to remind you. Ah.” Kishon made a sweeping gesture with his free hand toward a huge stonework fountain with a tree at its center, the water pouring down over its branches like rainfall. “Here’s the fountain. Should we stop for a sketch? You’re a little red in the face, my soon-to-be queen. I’m worried you’re becoming overheated.”

  She shook her head with a snort. Overheated wasn’t the half of it. But she sat down on a bench nearby, took out her sketchbook and pencils, and tried to cool down.

  When she’d filled several pages with sketches in her loose, free style, Kishon took her through the city. They stopped at a small café he’d liked to visit as a boy, an art museum the royal family had funded, and an ancient archway that marked the city’s old walls.

  “There’s one more thing I’d like you to see,” Kishon said as she added some shading to the keystone in her sketch of the archway.

  “If it’s your royal bedsheets…” Chloe warned.

  The laugh he gave her in return was better than chocolate. Better than everything, really, except actually being in bed with him.

  They pulled up in front of a building fifteen minutes later, and Chloe saw why he’d wanted to show it off. It gleamed. The pristine white walls boasted huge windows that overlooked a manicured park with a playground as its centerpiece. The playground swarmed with kids, at least half of them moving full-tilt over the new-looking equipment. Even more of them bent over the sidewalk, chalk in hand. Every available inch was covered in clouds and rainbows, stick figures and smiley faces. They stepped out of the car. “What is this place?”

  “It’s our youth center. The royal family funded its construction and upkeep. Come inside.”

  They opened the doors into a burst of cool air and…silence. Chloe had to admit that the quiet felt good, but something about it was off. Kishon showed her state-of-the-art classrooms for teaching everything from art to dance to coding. At the back of the building was a huge library with a bank of shiny new computers humming along in a glass-walled classroom. One boy sat at the computers, and one girl curled in a chair by a window with a book. She looked up from her page and gave Chloe a tentative wave, then went back to reading.

  “And that’s it,” said Kishon.

  “Very impressive.” She felt odd about lingering in the hush of the library, so they went back out into the general cacophony of kids on the playground.

  “Sheikh Kishon!” One of the little boys had recognized Kishon and came wheeling toward them, his hands stuffed with chalk. “Want to draw with us?”

  “I do,” said Chloe.

  The boy narrowed his eyes. “What about Sheikh Kishon?”

  Kishon was already rolling up his sleeves. “The green chalk, please.”

  Chloe found herself crouched on the sidewalk with the king of Hamari, amid the ebb and flow of children, a moment as surreal as all the others since she’d gone with him to his hotel. There he was, concentrating hard, eyes fixed on the chalk drawing. More kids joined in, and Chloe grabbed some pink and yellow and drew in a sunset near a cloud that was already there.

  “That’s an excellent tree,” she said to Kishon. His gaze went to her drawing.

  “Not nearly as good as your sunset,” said Kishon.

  “You’ve got some skill,” she said.

  “I’ll show you more of my skill later.” His words made her blush. His grin made her heart pound.

  Fake, she reminded herself. This is all fake.

  Chloe lifted her glass of sparkling water and sipped, the bubbles refreshing her as much as the cold. The two of them sat at a private table at one of Hamari’s best restaurants—a top-floor, high-end space with windows overlooking the city. It was a stunning view, with the warm sandstone buildings seeming to trap the essence of the sun, but her mind was on the youth center.

  “Does it bother you?” She put her glass on the table.

  “The sparkling water?” Kishon pursed his lips, a smile in his eyes. “I’ve never minded it.”

  “The youth center,” she said. “I can’t stop thinking about it. All those children wanted to do was play outside. I didn’t see anyone in the classrooms. Doesn’t it bother you that the royal family has spent all that money on something that’s hardly being used?”

  Kishon put down his fork, pausing. “I suppose I haven’t thought about it. We wanted the space to be available, and now it is.”

  “It’s wonderful,” Chloe said. “Modern, well-built…”

  “But?” His eyebrow curved up like the archway guarding the city.

  “What’s the use of funding it if nobody’s using it?”

  “That’s the problem of the people who run it.”

  “You built it,” Chloe insisted. She wasn’t sure why it had caught her attention, this one building in all of Hamari. But it had.

  “It’s tradition for the family to turn over administration to the people with these kinds of projects.” Kishon shrugged. “It’s not for me to get involved.”

  Chloe laughed. “Your man bun isn’t traditional. Your choice of a bride isn’t traditional.” She felt her face flush. “Is the whole tradition thing a choose-your-own-adventure situation?”

  It made him laugh, and she felt a flash of pride. It might never get old, making him laugh. “I can cut my hair.”

  “Don’t do that. I like your hair.” She leaned in, wanting the space between them to be as small as possible. If only it weren’t for the table…

  “And you like my bed,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “It’s not the bed. Definitely the man between the sheets.” If Kishon could play that game, so could she.

  His eyes burned into hers. “So naughty, tempting me in public.”

  “Turnabout’s fair play.” The heat between her legs sizzled and expanded, and…

  “More wine?” The waiter stepped up to the table, breaking into the superheated bubble of their flirtation. It was almost a relief, like breaking above the surface of the water and taking a deep breath.
/>   When the waiter stepped away, Kishon was still looking at her. “I wonder about something,” he said.

  Chloe braced herself for another round of his playful seduction. If he kept this up, they might have to…she didn’t know. Send everyone out of the restaurant? Find a coat closet? Neither thing seemed like something the king of Hamari would traditionally do, but she wanted it. “Tell me.”

  “I wonder if you’d like to look into the youth center a bit more.”

  Excitement lit up her nerves. “Look into it?”

  “Yes. Our engagement…is what it is,” he said carefully, though there was no one else in the dining room. “But I’ll support you if you’d like to work in the community. I can tell you’re thinking a lot about this. You have the people’s best interests in mind.”

  “I love the sound of that.” Anticipation, like sweet, cold air, blew against the back of her neck. “Don’t get me wrong—I want to sketch the entire city. And many other cities besides. But being involved…it feels good to me.”

  They went back to the meal, Chloe buzzing with pride. Kishon respected her enough to give her some leeway on a project in his country that would have a positive effect on the people.

  Nothing could be more real than that.

  8

  Chloe walked briskly through the halls of the palace, her pink wrap dress gliding delicately over her skin. She could get used to this—the beautiful, colorful clothes that made her feel like a million bucks; Sahr, the woman who came to do her hair and makeup in the morning if she requested it; and the new sense of purpose she had about the youth center.

  There had to be a way to get the whole building into good use. The sidewalk chalk was clear proof that the kids liked to make art, so why hadn’t the center harnessed that? It could mean more jobs for art teachers, and a better use of the facility…

  But it would have to wait.

  She made a sharp right, then another left into a small dining room. The pale blue color scheme was sun-soaked and airy.