Hired To Wear The Sheikh's Ring

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The thought shocked him. Did he want a woman to return to him, to want to be with him? It was something he’d never sought before so why now? Because she would be his wife, his hired bride?

‘First of all I want a payment up front. Today.’ She looked at him, as if waiting for his objection, but he merely sat and studied her. ‘I want a quarter of a million pounds in my account before the end of the day and a second payment the day we marry.’

Was that all? He’d planned on offering her much more than that. ‘Consider that done. Anything else?’

* * *

Tiffany looked at Jafar, at the handsome and very regal figure he cut sitting opposite her. Had he really agreed to that amount of money without so much as a flicker of a reaction? Was he that used to buying everything he needed he didn’t care what it cost?

She still couldn’t believe that by her simply agreeing to stand beside this man and become his wife, all Bethany’s problems would be over. It was almost too good to be true. The saying of looking a gift horse in the mouth drifted through her mind as she looked at the firm line of his full lips. Was it really going to be this easy to help her sister and secure a future for her niece, Kelly?

‘I will need to continue my business.’ His frown slashed her confidence and her words stalled.

‘You have other bridesmaid contracts such as yesterday’s?’

She hadn’t taken any bookings for the next six weeks because Kelly was about to finish nursery school for summer holidays. It was her chance to give Bethany a break and really be there for Kelly as she prepared to start big girl school in September. It was also a reminder that being an aunt could well be the closest she’d ever come to being a mother herself, with her dreams of finding true love and a happy marriage sabotaged by this man’s deal. She would put aside her dream for her sister and niece because she could never be happy knowing she’d walked away from the only chance to sort things out for them.

‘The next wedding is booked for early September and I will need to visit the bride between now and then.’

‘You will remain in Shamsumara for the full three months specified unless I accompany you.’ The harshness of his tone shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. She was helping him out as much as he was helping her. Maybe it was time to remind him of that.

‘In that case you will have to do exactly that.’

‘No, that is out of the question.’

She pushed her chair back and stood up, slowly and full of poise and dignity. ‘In that case, Mr Al-Shehri, we will not be able to strike a deal.’ She was calling his bluff and he damn well knew it, but she didn’t care. This was her stand. If he’d managed to find out all about Bethany’s financial situation, then he knew just how desperate she was, but there was no way she would ever act it in front of him.

‘I don’t think for one minute you intend to walk away from this deal.’ The vibrancy of his eyes pierced into her, dragging her secrets from the depths she’d hidden them. ‘And while I do applaud your honour to your business commitments I insist you stay in Shamsumara for three months. My cousin must see our marriage as real if it is to achieve its objective.’

‘And what does that mean?’ Irrational anger bubbled away within her like a hot spring. ‘I can’t continue my business? That I can’t return to England and make arrangements for my client?’

‘It means that you can continue with your business but I would prefer you to remain in Shamsumara. How many other weddings do you have to attend to?’ There was a brittle harshness in his tone, which only served to anger her further.

‘There are others in later months, but our three-month deal will be over by then and no concern of yours.’ His brows rose at her tone and that sexy hint of a smile made her tummy somersault and to hide her embarrassment she sat back down, wondering if Bethany could stand in for her and visit her client.

‘As it is just the one client, then I am happy to support that.’ There was a mischievous glint in his eyes and she wondered if he was toying with her, but now was not the time to test it out. She needed that incredible sum of money he was prepared to pay if she was going to secure Bethany’s and Kelly’s future, keep a roof over their heads. She’d even be able to set herself up once this bizarre marriage was over and three months wasn’t that long.

‘In that case, Mr Al-Shehri, we have a deal.’ She stood up and put her hand out to shake on the deal. He stood and looked down at her, then finally took her hand in his, but not in the way she’d expected. He held her fingertips and lifted her hand to his lips, his gaze locked on hers all the time, and then kissed the backs of her fingers.

The spark of fire that kiss evoked rushed up her arm, making her heart flutter as if she were a teenager. Shyness crept over her and she lowered her lashes, blocking out the intensity of his eyes.

‘I will send my car for you next Friday.’ If she didn’t know any better she’d say that the moment had affected him too, his voice was more of a hoarse whisper, but surely not. A playboy sheikh who had the pick of all the glamorous women he wanted would never be affected by a woman like her. Did he have any idea just how inexperienced she was with such things? ‘Is that sufficient time for you to put things in order?’

Put things in order. Could that ever really be achieved? At least the payment he’d agreed on would take away the threat of repossession for her sister.

‘Yes, perfectly sufficient,’ she said, keeping her voice brisk and businesslike, trying not to think of the implications of accepting his proposal. After all, it wasn’t a real proposal and certainly wouldn’t be a real marriage.

‘Good, then it is settled. You will accompany me to Paris, where we shall make it obvious to anyone who sees us that we are not only a couple in love, but engaged to be married.’ His bold confidence almost knocked hers, but she held her ground, kept her composure.

‘If arranged marriages are acceptable in your country, why do we need to do that?’

‘Because this is not a conventional arrangement and I do not wish to give anyone, least of all my cousin, the chance to challenge it. We will act out our engagement in Paris for one week. In private I will instruct you on all you need to know and provide you with everything necessary for your role. After that we will travel to Shamsumara and arrive in time for the feast of Shams—and our wedding ceremony.’

‘So soon?’ The hesitation in her voice brought his scrutiny to her once more.

‘I trust you are not getting cold feet?’

‘Absolutely not. This is a deal that will enable us both to get what we want and for my sister and her daughter I will go to Paris with you, then to your country to become your wife.’

CHAPTER THREE (#u15498ba2-8f16-541e-a830-ae1a07521fe7)

FIVE DAYS LATER Tiffany was waiting for the car Jafar had told her would collect her. She had put her life in order, at least as much as she possibly could, given the bizarre deal she’d agreed to. She pushed the implications of marriage to a man like Jafar Al-Shehri to the back of her mind as a sleek black and very luxurious-looking car pulled up outside her sister’s house. At least Bethany wasn’t here to try one last time to talk her out of it, having left early to go with Kelly on her nursery school trip.

Tiffany took hold of the handle of her suitcase and looked around the living room one last time. Kelly’s toys, as usual, were scattered around everywhere and the book Bethany was reading was face down on the coffee table. Shock crashed over Tiffany like angry waves. She wouldn’t be here to see the book finished or the toys played with. She would be in a country she barely knew anything about, married to a man she knew even less about.

Was she doing the right thing?

‘Stop it,’ she berated herself. It wasn’t as if she’d be away for ever. Just three months. She had to do this, for Bethany and Kelly, and there wasn’t really any other option left to them. With a determinedly inhaled breath, she turned and walked out of the house to the waiting car, its darkened windows making it impossible to see inside.

The driver’s door opened and Jafar got out. The burst of determination that had filled her just moments ago vanished as his eyes met hers. He looked sexy and incredibly powerful. The black suit, over which he wore an expensive camel-coloured coat to ward off the unusual chill in the summer air, only elevated his aura of command.

A skitter of apprehension raced down her spine, excitement hot in pursuit. How could just one look from this man have such a profound effect on her? ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’

The words were out before she could stop them or give herself the chance to act as calmly and in control as he so effortlessly did. He remained tall and straight as he stood next to the car.

‘We have much to do once we arrive in Paris before we begin the act of a whirlwind romance.’ There was a new depth to his voice. Was it more command or more determination?

She moved closer to the car and as he came to take her case from her she could see the determination in his eyes too. The fierce spark of power that only a man in complete control of his destiny could have.

He’s also in control of your destiny and will be for the next two years.

‘Such as?’ she demanded fiercely as that thought lingered in her mind like the ash after a fire.

It was the first time she’d thought beyond the three months he had stipulated she spend in his country. She’d been so wrapped up in being able to help Bethany she hadn’t thought of what would happen for the remainder of their so-called marriage and it was now one of the things she intended to sort out in Paris.

Jafar opened the passenger door for her and stood looking down at her. Was it possible that he suddenly seemed taller than she remembered or was it because she was losing control rapidly? She could still back out. She looked at the house she’d moved into with Bethany and Kelly several months ago and knew she couldn’t, not if she wanted to help them keep a roof over their heads, and now that Bethany knew all about this deal she definitely couldn’t.

She met the suspicion in his eyes and spoke again before he had a chance to say anything. ‘All the trimmings that come with such a whirlwind romance?’

‘One thing you will learn about me, Tiffany, is that if I do something, I do it properly.’ He paused and stepped a fraction closer so that she caught the exotic scent of his aftershave. It was wild and free, like the air itself—or the desert. As she tried to halt those thoughts he spoke again. ‘And making you my wife will be no exception.’

No response to that statement came to mind and instead she got into the car, trying to ignore the sensation of overwhelming wealth and luxury that assaulted her senses as she did so as wildly as the man himself. Jafar got into the driver’s seat and soon they were heading towards London for their flight to Paris. She watched the countryside she’d grown up in rush past, her thoughts crammed with just how he was going to make their engagement and subsequent marriage appear real. She was thankful when music began to play gently against the hum of the car engine. She forced her mind to relax, to go with the absurd deal she’d struck with this man. A man who had the ability to make her wish for things she’d vowed never to want. He made her want to be desired and even loved.

The full extent of the contract she would sign with the desert sheikh became apparent later that day, as she entered the suite of one of Paris’s most prestigious hotels to find the room full of designer dresses, shoes, handbags. Everything the kind of woman she was expected to be could want.

‘Now I am beginning to understand what you said to me earlier.’ She was determined to keep the complete shock and wonderment from her voice. There was no way she was going to allow him to know he was playing into the kind of Cinderella moment almost every girl dreamt of. ‘You certainly seem intent on kitting me out properly.’

‘As I have said, we need to be seen having a whirlwind affair while we are here in Paris and you need to look the part.’

This was confirmation that she was not at all like the kind of woman he usually associated with. She didn’t have the experience of men like him to start with. What if he realised that and backed out of their deal? She couldn’t allow that to happen. She would have to ensure she played her part well, be what he wanted her to be.

‘I had all this arranged.’ He gestured around him at the rails of clothes. ‘To provide you with all you will need.’

His deep voice was silky, his words gentle, but there was no mistaking the undertone of icy determination in them. Or the accusation that she was far from suitable and it hurt. For some strange reason it mattered to Tiffany what this man thought of her. She hid her confusion at that revelation behind sharp-edged words.

‘If I am so very unsuitable, then why are we even doing this?’ She couldn’t help but test him, push him to the limits.

She saw his jaw clench as he looked at her from across the luxurious surroundings he was so obviously used to. ‘Our arrangement serves us both well. I am in need of a wife and you are in need of money, part of which you have already received.’

‘You make it sound so cold.’ He glared at her and she hid the smile of satisfaction that she had riled him, rattled his gilded cage a little.

‘Not getting sentimental on me, are you?’ He moved closer to her, his steps silenced by the thick carpet of the room. Now he was testing her.

She could feel his presence invading her, feel him taking over the very air she breathed. ‘No way.’ She lifted her chin to look into those fierce eyes and tried to ignore the jolt of something unidentifiable, yet exceedingly powerful, that zapped through her as if he had actually touched her. ‘This is merely another contract as far as I am concerned.’

‘Good.’ The word was strong, forceful. ‘I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea when I begin to wine and dine you and act like a lover who wants nothing more than to seduce you.’

She swallowed hard against the sizzle that held both fear and excitement as images raced into her mind of this man doing exactly that. ‘You are not my type, Mr Al-Shehri. There is no need to worry about that.’

* * *

The fire in her voice sent a thunderbolt of lust-filled desire streaking through him. Tiffany Chapelle was as good as issuing him a challenge. The challenge of seducing her and right at this moment it was all he could think of doing. He wanted her naked beneath him as she writhed in ecstasy, begging him for more.

A knock on the hotel-suite door hammered through him as if he’d been slapped in the face. What the hell was he thinking, wanting this woman? All he needed to do was marry her, make her his wife in name only and then live with her for three months. Once his sister’s child was born, they could return to their lives and divorce in two years’ time. If he made love to her, either before or after they were married, it would turn their deal into something so much more. Not to mention harder to extricate himself from.

‘Come,’ he snapped as the control began to return to his body, even though his mind still reeled with images of Tiffany naked beneath him as he looked down at her. He never allowed women to get to him like this and he was damn sure Tiffany wouldn’t be any different. It must be the bizarre situation they were now in. A primal need to claim her as his wife in every way.

He had no time to indulge in such thoughts now. He had a job to do and that was to supply Tiffany with all she would need to carry out her role as his bride-to-be. Whatever else he thought of the state of matrimony and no matter how close he’d come to it once, he had to ensure the woman he’d selected for the role of his bride looked the part, both here and in his kingdom of Shamsumara—the very reason all this was even happening.

‘This is Madame Rousseau.’ He introduced the world-renowned designer and was pleased to see a moment of surprise on Tiffany’s face. ‘She will provide you with all you will need for our week in Paris and, of course, your wedding dress.’

Tiffany turned to the older woman and spoke to her in French. ‘I am honoured, madame.’

Instantly the woman he’d chosen for a bride was winning over the designer and a dart of admiration filled him. It appeared there was much more to Tiffany Chapelle than he’d first thought. Again that need to know more, to find out more, to explore in unchartered waters surfaced.

‘You will be the most beautiful bride,’ Madame Rousseau praised, obviously pleased to be able to converse in her mother tongue. ‘And you will make a fine queen for His Highness.’

Jafar’s body stilled. He had not yet explained to Tiffany that her role would entail much more than being his bride, that she would have to assume the role of his Queen for the duration of her stay in Shamsumara.

‘She will indeed make a fine queen.’ He smiled at her, aware of her scrutiny.

‘It’s a role I intend to take very seriously,’ she said with the biggest smile he’d yet seen on those very kissable lips. Confidence oozed from her, making him sure she could carry it off perfectly and letting him know she accepted the challenge.

‘So you have kept your romance secret for the last few months.’ Madame Rousseau continued in that wonderfully passionately way she was known for, obviously buying into the story he’d told her. ‘How very clever of you both.’

Madame Rousseau instructed with the wave of a pointed finger for Tiffany to turn, and as she did so Tiffany’s gaze met his and the sparks of annoyance in her eyes were so powerful and incredibly sexy he had to curtail the need to send the designer away and kiss Tiffany until she begged to be his.

He pushed that urge to one side as he sat waiting while Tiffany was fitted with the first dress, which he’d instructed to be simple but elegant for daytime in Paris, but his mind kept returning to the memory of her last Sunday morning in the short dress with a black leather jacket. Far from expensive, he was sure, but it had made her look a million dollars.

‘This one is perfect.’

Madame Rousseau’s voice ruptured his thoughts and he looked up to see Tiffany in a black dress, loosely cut yet somehow incredibly sexy. To complete the look she had a black clutch bag and dark sunglasses. The whole look showed off her glorious hair colouring and pale complexion to perfection.

‘I agree,’ he said, not liking the hard gravelly tone to his voice, and if the expression on Tiffany’s face was anything to go by, neither did she. There was that challenge again.

He kept that steely control as Tiffany paraded in many different outfits, some of which he rejected, but most of which he agreed with Madame Rousseau that they would be perfect for her role as his bride-to-be.

‘There is one more gown,’ Madame Rousseau said. ‘The evening dress for the charity event.’

‘Charity event?’ Tiffany questioned and looked at him, her lovely blue eyes wide, like a captured animal who didn’t know whether it should run or stay.

‘We have been invited to World Water charity dinner, attended by many famous names.’ He had a twinge of guilt as she suddenly looked completely out of her depth. Surely she’d mixed with the rich and famous before as part of her job? She’d certainly sold her business to him as that, which had been one of the main reasons for going through with his plans; he’d been sure she wouldn’t be fazed by such occasions.

‘Come, come,’ the designer said quickly, and Tiffany turned her back on him. He watched her as she walked back into the other room and listened to the delighted sounds from Madame Rousseau.

Even so, he wasn’t prepared for the way Tiffany looked as she came into the room again, chin held regally high, her hair quickly pulled up roughly into a chignon. Her pale skin showed the beauty of the black lace, set with black gems, but it was the slit to the top of her thigh he couldn’t stop looking at. One pale, slender leg was showcased to perfection as she stood there, taking his appraisal as if she’d been born into the role of a princess to be his Queen. In that moment she was exactly what he wanted in a wife—a real wife. She was desirable and aloof, competent and confident.