The Sheikh's Crown (Sheikh's Wedding Bet Series Book 2) (9 page)

A
dil looked
over the collection with pride. He’d never thought about responsibility before, but when he saw the public milling around and oohing and aahing over the collection, he felt good.

And just a little empty.

It had been two weeks since the collection had debuted at the Louvre, and the empty display case was making headlines. He wouldn’t comment on it, and his family was respecting his wishes to keep their own mouths shut.

“Excellent collection, Sheikh.” The curator stood next to him. “Every museum within a thousand miles is trying to be next on the tour.”

“Good,” Adil said with a smile. “This is a good decision for us, and you’re taking excellent care of our artifacts.”

“The additional piece is garnering quite a bit of attention. The press will be here soon to get photographs.”

Adil looked at him sharply. “Additional piece? What additional piece?”

The curator frowned. “What do you mean what additional piece? The young woman stopped by a few minutes ago with the missing jewels from Bathsheba’s Crown.”

Adil stared at him. “Samine. Samine was here? Is she still here?”

He didn’t wait for the curator to respond. Instead, he pushed past him and took the stairs down two at a time. Plunging into the crowd, he began to look around wildly. His heart pounded against his chest. Samine was here. She was somewhere here in this crowd, and he had to find her.

He would not let her get away a second time.

“Be here. Please, be here,” he muttered over and over again, as he looked around frantically. “Please, please, please.”

“Adil.”

Whirling around, he found her by the empty display case. She gave him a big smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I spoke to my family. They are incredibly happy and thankful to have the jewels back, and they agree with me. It does no good for it to stay in a vault and collect dust. If you can trust your artifacts to the public, then we can do the same. And I think it should tour with your collection. This is where it belongs. With you.”

“You think it belongs with me,” he repeated softly.

“I do. But it still belongs to us.”

“Of course,” he said quickly. “Yes. It still belongs to you.”

“Good. Very good. Okay. It was great working with you. I apologize for all the trouble that I’ve caused you, and I’ll go now.” She turned to slip past him, and he grabbed her arm.

“And that’s it? You’re just going to walk away from me?” he asked softly.

Samine looked at him, and there was no smile on her face. “What more could you want from me?”

“You, Samine. I want you. You were searching for the crown because you didn’t want your family to need you anymore, but it’s not going to solve your problem because I need you. I love you, Samine. And I’m not going to let you walk away without a fight.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I need you. I love you. But we both know that you’re not the type to settle down. We had fun, and I know that there is something between us, but I know I’m not enough.”

Adil smiled and grabbed her hands. “You’re a smart woman, Samine. But if you keep talking like this, I’m going to have to call you an idiot.” Slowly, he went down on one knee and pulled the ring from his pocket.

She gasped and stared down at him. “Adil, what are you doing?”

“You said I was never the traditional type,” he said with a smile. His hands shook, but he wasn’t going to stop now. “This is also from our collection. They say it’s the ring that Solomon gave to Sheba.”

Samine put her hand against her mouth and laughed. “Really, Adil? You couldn’t just get me a regular ring?”

“Not for you,” he said before he took a deep breath. “Marry me, Samine. If you don’t, I’ll spend the rest of my life chasing after you. I swear it.”

She studied him for a long moment before nodding and giving him her hand. He slipped the ring on her finger. It was a perfect fit.

“I love you,” she said as he rose up. “God, I love you.”

He’d loved women, but it was nothing compared to how he felt for Samine. People stared as he gathered her in his arms and kissed her.

Everyone clapped and cheered, and Samine buried her face in his shoulder. Glancing up, he saw his father and Rameez watching them from the second floor.

Rameez winked and mouthed three words to him. “Two down now.”

S
amine took
a deep breath as she stood out on the balcony at the palace. She had been here for two weeks now, and it still felt strange to be living here. She knew that she would have a long way to go before all the members of the family trusted her. If ever. At least she knew she had an ally with Fleur, who was quick to welcome her; although she suspected it was partly because she was the only other female in a house full of controlling men.

But thanks to her, Bruce was grudgingly won over and she was allowed to help with some of the cataloguing of the family’s artifacts. It made her uncomfortable the way he watched her around the jewels, but she kept her eyes on the computer and didn’t touch anything without his express permission.

Jaymin, of course, was furious. It was bad enough that his brother had put one known thief in charge of the family artifacts, but now there were two. Since her arrival, he had gone out of his way to avoid her, and she suspected that he was the one who added the additional cameras around the vault areas. Not that she couldn’t get past them, if she wanted to. But that was behind her now. Or so, she hoped.

At Adil’s urging, she called her mother to tell her of her plans to marry. Her brother was so excited, he was working toward making the flight so they could both be at her wedding. She cried when he asked her if he could walk her down the aisle.

She turned when she heard a knock at her door. Expecting the seamstress for her wedding dress measurements, she was surprised to see Adil.

Walking toward his open arms, she hugged him.

“I wasn’t expecting you back until Friday. Is something wrong?” she questioned as she tilted her head up to kiss him.

“The only thing wrong was that you weren’t with me. I couldn’t stand being away from you for another minute,” he confessed as he tangled his fingers in her hair. “Besides, after what happened at the Louvre, the Palazzo has everything well in hand.”

“Are you kidding? It’s Fashion Week in Milan. I would think that you’d be overwhelmed looking at all the beautiful women wanting to get a look at the
family jewels
,” she emphasized with a smirk.

“Fashion models don’t seem all that interested in touring museums, and I’m not even remotely interested in a fashion model.”

“I thought they were your specialty.” Samine wasn’t sure why she was pushing him, but she couldn’t help being insecure. This was new territory for the both of them and part of her still wasn’t sure what he saw in her.

Adil smiled gently, seeming to read her mind. “Don’t you know, little thief? You’ve stolen my heart, and I can’t possibly live without you.”

“Oh, Adil, I must sound like an idiot. I love you so much.”

“Now that’s the best thing you’ve said since I walked in the door. I love you, too, Samine. Forever and always.”

T
he Sheikh’s Secret Bride
(The Adjalane Sheikhs Series Book 1) Introduction

Al-Sarid, Boardroom of Adjalane Oil, three days earlier…

“Nassir, you have disgraced our company,” Nimr Adjalane told him, his tone grave.

The fact the oldest member of the board--and his father—was upset meant Nassir hadn’t done himself any favors this time. Of course, it didn’t help that Nimr had chosen to elect Nassir as CEO over his own brother, Hazim, either.

He should have expected it, he supposed, given the other situations he currently faced. First was the verbal assault debacle with the young woman in Europe. Naturally, the paparazzi had been there to capture every vile exchange then taken every one of them completely out of context.

The young woman involved had been painted as the injured party, when just the opposite was true. She’d thrown herself at Nassir, thrusting her bare breasts in his face, and he’d tried to politely refuse. But when that didn’t work and her attempts grew more brazen, he’d resorted to harsher measures, stating he’d rather have sex with a goat than a whore.

Strike one.

Then there were his action in a recent skirmish with the Sharqi Oil Sheikhs. He’d forced the temporary closure of their oil pumping station, then once an agreement had been reached for the purchase of the land beneath the station, attempted to extort a priceless portrait from Amare.

Strike two.

If things did not go well today, this could be counted as the final strike against him.

“Nassir,” Nimr, said on behalf of the board. “We have discussed your actions in depth, and believe we have a solution that will not only benefit us, but also the world.” Nassir clasped his hands and remained silent. Pride, it seemed, had forced them to take drastic steps to correct what they saw as flaws in his character. Flaws he had no intention of changing “A plan that will improve your reputation both with women and our business partners in the West.”

Nassir tapped a finger on the tabletop and waited. He knew he’d crossed the line with the Sharqis and the woman, no matter how well-deserved. But if the board was also trying to appease and attract Western business partners, that did not bode well for him.

“It is our recommendation that you marry.”

Marry?
Whatever he been expecting them to say, it had not been that.

Nassir opened his mouth to comment, but an angry glare from his father stopped him.

“Our decision is non-negotiable,” Nimr said.

Nassir clenched his jaw and lowered his head. Now was neither the time nor the place to fight this battle. That would come later. After the meeting adjourned. “Fine.”

“And we are suggesting you find an American bride. This will assure the rest of the world that you are both open-minded and tolerant.”

“You can’t be serious? Our family line has stayed within Al-Sarid for generations.”

Nimr stood and slammed his fist down onto the table, “That is irrelevant now. You will marry an American, and you will do so in the next thirty days. Furthermore, you will make amends with the Sharqi family.”

“Or what?” Nassir demanded. These men could not be serious.

“Or we will replace you.” Nimr narrowed his gaze on Nassir, his voice quiet. “You are cunning and clever. You think there will be a loophole or an exception, but you are wrong.”

“Replace me? I am Nassir Adjalane and heir to this empire…”

His father continued despite his protests. “I have taken the liberty of speaking with Taleb Sharqi and he has agreed to help you in this endeavor. You are scheduled to attend Amare’s wedding reception tonight. He has already had arrangements to introduce you to several women whom he believes would make a suitable wife.” Nimr smiled then, small and cold. “A month is not long for courtship. I would suggest you make your choice quickly.”

The unspoken threat hung heavy in the air. If he failed to take a bride, leadership of the company would pass to Hazim. The two men were rivals on the best days, enemies on their worst. And if his uncle took over leadership of the Adjalane Oil board that would mean an end to all the company’s philanthropic pursuits—Hazim had made it perfectly clear he would divert all of the money in the budget earmarked for charity straight into plumping the company’s bottom line. No new schools built. No more orphans rescued. No more hospitals constructed.

He looked each man sitting at the table in the eyes, seeing not even a hint of doubt in their eyes. They wanted him to marry? Fine. He squared his shoulders and stood. “I’ll see you back here in a month, gentleman. With my American bride.”

* * *

W
edding
of Amare Sharqi and Bree, San Francisco, California, Two days later…

Janna Davis watched Amare sweep his new bride into his arms and stride from the banquet hall then snorted. “Well, that’s not something you see every day.”

Her feet hurt and she longed for a hot bath and a long night’s sleep. Putting this lightning-fast wedding together had taken every bit of her expertise and her energy. Now that it had gone off without a hitch, the adrenaline high she’d drawn on to keep her going had vanished.

Two men stood at her side, giving her not-so-subtle glances. One of them she’d met earlier, Karim Sharqi, the groom’s brother. His clipped responses to her friendly attempts at small talk had bordered on rude and he’d been no help at all as she hustled around the banquet hall, accounting for every detail.

The other had been a last-minute addition to the guest list. Nassir Adjalane, notorious for causing difficulties for the Sharqi family business, and—if the rumors were to be believed—the Hatfield to their McCoy. Frankly, she’d been shocked the guy had the balls to show up here. Mortal enemies didn’t normally celebrate each other’s weddings.

Tired of being gawked at like some prize-winning pony, Janna turned and gave both men a thorough once-over. Dressed in the traditional robes of their country, they were most definitely Middle Eastern. And if their blatant stares were any indication, it seemed their manners were as backward as their views toward equality.

“He’s acting like a fool,” Nassir said, giving the departing bride and groom a disparaging look.

Regardless of how she felt about the happy couple’s sappy romance, she wasn’t about to let this pompous ass rain all over their parade. She crossed her arms and faced him. “He’s acting like a man in love, though I’m not surprised you don’t recognize it.”

“How dare you insult us.” Karim scowled. “In our country, men do not show their emotions so publicly. We save our affections for the privacy of the bedroom.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I don’t live in your country then. Sounds boring if you ask me.” Janna walked away, the taffeta skirt of her dress swishing as she headed across the room toward her cousin, Jack, and the groom’s other brother, Taleb.

She’d needed to get away from idiots before her big mouth got her in even more trouble.

“It was a beautiful ceremony, Janna,” Jack said once she’d stepped in beside him.

“Thanks. Although, he doesn’t seem to be of quite the same opinion.”

“Who?” Jack looked to where she indicated, then chuckled. “Oh. You mean Nassir. Well, they don’t call him the Heartless Sheik for nothing.”

“He wasn’t thrilled Amare carried Bree from the room.”

Taleb chuckled, “Do not worry. Nassir is a strict traditionalist. I’ve told him repeatedly he needs to join the twenty first century, but still he prefers to stay in the Dark Ages where women wore veils and did not work outside the home.”

“The not working part is bad enough, but wearing a veil all the time? No way.” The whole thing sounded barbaric and outdated. Janna marveled at the fact there hadn’t been a feminist uprising in Al-Sarid a long time ago.

“It is not as bad as you think,” Taleb said, his expression cautious. “There are reasons for what we do.”

“Really?” Jenna did her best to keep her sarcasm to a minimum and failed. “Do enlighten me.”

“Our women chose to wear their veils as a show of modesty and reverence to God. And our men provide for their every need to show how deeply we care. Many Westerners consider our strict rules and practices abusive, when the opposite is true. I believe if you spoke to the women of Al-Sarid you would hear a much different story.”

Janna shrugged, not wanting to insult his culture, no matter how different it was from hers. “I guess I like my independence too much to ever consider something like that. Besides, I’ve never been much of a follow-the-rules kind of gal.” She smiled at Jack then Taleb. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I better make sure the caterers have everything they need. Talk to you later?”

“Yep.” Jack pointed toward the entrance. “By the way, I made sure to tell the tabloid photographers I spotted earlier that this was all your doing. Who knows? Maybe someone will read about this event and offer you your dream job.”

“Maybe.” Janna didn’t have time to think about the future. Not when payment for this job hadn’t cleared her bank account yet and next month’s bills were stacking up.

She left Jack and Taleb behind and headed toward the side door where the caterers were busily moving between the kitchens and the hallways, working to keep up with the demand for food and drink from the guests. “Everything going okay out here?”

“Everything’s fine, Miss Janna.”

She smiled at the young man in charge, “If you need anything, you call my cell.”

“Will do,” he said.

Food and booze handled, she walked down the hall toward the ballroom again and promptly ran into Nassir.
Talk about lost
. No way would that guy ever frequent a lowly service hall unless he had no idea where the hell he was. With a sigh, she approached him. “Is there a problem?”

“No. You are in charge of all these people, yes?” He nodded toward the wait staff and others milling around in the hallway.

“I hired them, yes.” Janna did her best to explain her job, “As a wedding planner, I’m in charge of making sure everything runs smoothly behind the scenes. I coordinate all the different puzzle pieces to make sure they fit. Damage control.”

“You are not busy now?”

His dark gaze held more than a hint of mystery and despite his early bad manners, she couldn’t help being intrigued. “No. I’m between tasks at the moment.”

“Good.” Nassir took her by the elbow and led her back into the ballroom. “Then you shall join me for a drink while you wait for your next crisis to avert.”

Janna resisted the urge to prickle beneath his authoritative tone and did her best to remember Taleb’s words.
Our men provide for their every need to show how deeply we care…

“I suppose I have time for one drink.” Janna shook off his hold on her arm and preceded him into the ballroom, pleased to see the guests still enjoying the live band, the banquet tables still laden with food, and the bar staff busily filling orders.

Nassir escorted her to empty table near the back of the room and held the chair for her while she sat then raised his hand to summon a passing waiter. “What will you have to drink?”

“A cola.”

“Cola?” Nassir frowned.

“I’m still working. Cola will be fine,” she told the waiter.

Nassir gave his order as well then took a seat beside her.

Awkward silence ensured.

After a few tense moments, she decided to get him talking about himself. In her experience, if there was one universal subject people loved to discuss it was themselves. “So, do you mind sharing why you were upset about him carrying Bree from the room?”

“He made himself a spectacle. That is not done in our country. Not by men of our class.”

“And what class is that exactly?”

Before he could answer, Nassir’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from a pocket in his robe and scowled at the screen. “It is my brother.” He swiped the screen then tucked the phone away again. “I will call him back later.”

She laughed. “Wow. You’re braver than me. I would never get away with diverting one of my siblings’ calls to voicemail.”

“You have brothers and sisters?”

“Three. All younger.” She sat back as the waiter returned with their drinks, and glanced around the room. Several women were eyeing Nassir, but if he noticed the attention he didn’t show it. Or didn’t care. She shook her head and smiled. “I kind of became a surrogate mother to them years ago after our own mom was involved in a bad car accident. With her injures, she wasn’t able to do even the most basic things, so the responsibilities fell to me.”

“How old were you at the time of this accident?” he asked, his expression concerned.

“Twelve.” She traced a finger around the rim of her glass. “I think that’s why being a wedding coordinator was such an easy fit. I’ve been taking charge and organizing things for more than half my life.”

Nassir said nothing, just watched her.

She couldn’t tell what he was thinking behind his intense onyx gaze and she found the feeling unsettling to say the least. She hadn’t noticed before in the hustle and bustle of the night, but now sitting here so close to him, she realized Nassir Adjalane was a very handsome man—all dark hair and dark eyes and long, lean muscled form.