The Sheikh’s Fake Marriage: Sheikhs of Hamari, #2

By Leslie North

In Sheikh Kishon's small kingdom, it's tradition that older sons marry before the younger ones. Problem is, his younger brother desperately wants to get married—and marriage is the last thing Kishon desires. Lucky for him, artist Chloe Sanderson is intrigued by his offer of a marriage of convenience. He's been flirting with the sexy American on his visits to the US for months, admiring her spunk and easy way with people. Knowing her desire to travel, he offers her a world tour if she'll be his fake wife. To Kishon, it's the perfect plan. Not only does his brother get to marry the woman he loves, but Kishon gets the elders off his back. He just has to make sure no one discovers he's marrying for business, something that would put him in a bad light with the elders.

 

For Chloe, marrying this sexy sheikh isn't much of a sacrifice, especially since it's all a farce. She'll get to see the world and paint all the beautiful sites she's always dreamed of. Sure, actually marrying Kishon is a bit surreal, but passion-filled nights and romantic days soon make her realize that nothing is fake about her feelings for Kishon, even though his feelings are pretty clear. No love. No future. Once his brother marries, her romance with the hard-headed sheikh will be over. 

But do either of them really want it to be?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Relay Publishing
• Release date: Jun 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201159665

Book preview

1

The sheikh from Hamari had an exceptional ass.

Chloe couldn’t take her eyes off it. His pants added something, too—they were tailored, hugging the tight, fit butt the way only custom-made pants could. Even someone without her eye for detail would have appreciated the way Kishon’s pants accentuated the toned muscles underneath, but Chloe especially did.

It was a bummer that he was leaving.

Chloe sighed as the door swung closed behind him, cutting off the exceptional view of his body in yet another of his custom suits. The bar nestled up to a luxury hotel, so it attracted lots of businessmen and ritzy wedding guests, but Kishon had been head and shoulders above all of them, sometimes literally. She’d never thought of herself as short, but more than once looking up at him from across the bar had taken her breath away. He had to be six three, at least.

Is your man gone? Hailey, one of the waitresses and Chloe’s best friend on staff, swooped up to the bar with a tray balanced on her shoulder.

Chloe plucked the slim check holder with Kishon’s receipt in it from the gleaming mahogany surface of the bar. He’s not my man, she said, for the hundredth time. Hailey had been teasing her about her easy connection with the sheikh since the first week he’d shown up at the Highball a little over six months ago. At first, he’d just been a good customer—friendly, personable, and drop-dead sexy. Then he’d been a good repeat customer, stopping in most evenings when he was in DC. And yes, he’s gone.

He’ll be back to see you tomorrow, I’m willing to bet. Hailey’s eyes danced.

He won’t, because he’s flying out. Chloe opened the check holder. There was his name in a big, masculine scrawl, beneath a big, masculine number on the tip line. Back to Hamari.

And you might never see him or his flawless man bun again. Hailey fanned herself with her free hand. "How can you be so chill about it? You had a king fawning all over you, and you just let him walk out the door."

Chloe shot Hailey a look. He’s not a king in here, and I don’t—

—date customers, Hailey finished for her. "I know. But you could have dated him, and nobody would have faulted you for it. A king. A king!"

Chloe opened her mouth to argue, but now that Kishon was gone and his favorite seat at the bar empty, she felt strangely empty, too. He’d been in DC a lot over the past month or so—more than he’d ever been before. It was for something diplomatic that hadn’t seemed to matter much in comparison with all the flirting and banter they’d shared in the beginning. At first, Chloe had smiled and batted her eyelashes because a subtle flirt was the fastest way to an excellent tip, but he had been genuinely charming. And…honorable. Kishon had asked her to have dinner with him in the third week, and she’d turned him down. He hadn’t pushed or cajoled or leered, just taken her answer at face value.

Yeah, she said, finally getting the word out. I could have.

Hailey clicked her tongue and whirled away, shining ponytail flying behind her. Mistakes, she called over her shoulder. We all make ‘em.

Chloe traced a finger over Kishon’s signature on the receipt. Maybe it had been a mistake to stick to her rules so stringently. It hadn’t just been flirting, teasing banter. There had been plenty of evenings when the bar was quiet. Kishon would lean up against the bar top, arms crossed in a way that put his carved biceps on display, and the two of them would settle into comfortable conversation. Like two people who knew each other.

In a way, she did know him, at least a little. She knew about his brother, and his cousin, and the cousin they’d just discovered—a boy named Ryan. She knew that Kishon’s younger brother wanted to get married but couldn’t…not until Kishon got married.

That thought made jealousy twist behind her ribs, which was ridiculous. She punched in Kishon’s tip, put the receipt in the register, and added the check folder to the neat pile on the counter. Kishon was a rich, sexy king. He’d have no trouble finding a wife, once he set his mind to it. And that woman would be very, very lucky.

It could have been you, a voice in the back of her mind whispered, and she shut that down like the nonsense that it was. Chloe didn’t date customers. Or kings. And even if she did, he was on his way back to Hamari. She would never see him again.

Hey! Hey, Bartender! We’re thirsty. Come on over and serve us.

The call came from a red-faced businessman at a round table in the corner. He sat with six of his nearest and dearest with their matching leers and ill-fitting suits. Gross.

Hailey was on break, so Chloe pasted on her best fake smile and headed over. At a high-end bar like the Highball, she couldn’t shoot them a surly look and tell them to screw off. Plus, every tip made a difference. Rent and bills came first, but if she wanted to take a trip around the world—and she did, more than anything—she needed to save up. Keep smiling, she ordered herself. This table full of assholes gets you one step closer to Paris.

That was the dream. Painting en plein air by the Eiffel Tower. Anywhere in Europe, really, as long as she could set up her easel and her paints and feel the wind in her hair and the sun on her face…

She’d make it happen. It would happen faster if she won the lottery, but for now, she depended on businessmen—and the occasional dreamy sheikh—and their tips.

Hi, guys. What can I get for you? A quick scan of the table told her that they didn’t need more to drink. Hailey hadn’t swept away the latest buildup of glasses and beers. The water pitcher in the center of the table was still half full.

We could use something… The man who called her over licked his lips. Sick. Sweet.

Chloe bit back the urge to tell him that he could use a swift kick in the balls. We have several cocktails you might like, she said brightly.

"Like this one? One of the other men lifted a martini glass with the dregs of something red at the bottom of the glass. The cute waitress brought this earlier, but it wasn’t quite— He fumbled the glass. Shit." The curse came at the same moment the glass slipped from his fingers. It shattered on the floor.

Chloe sprang into action. No problem. Let me just get—

The cleaning closet wasn’t far, and she was back with a broom and a dustpan in a matter of seconds. The last thing she needed was one of those clowns cutting himself on broken glass. She bent over, looking for stray pieces that might have gone under the table.

"Now that’s sweet," said the man closest to her, and then his hand was on her ass, gripping it like he was testing a piece of fruit. Hard. Chloe yelped, standing up fast. What the hell? Who did he think he was? She rounded on him, brandishing the dustpan…only to see him lifted bodily out of his seat by his jacket.

At first, Chloe only saw the hands bunched around the cloth, but she quickly followed the attached arms to a face. Kishon. Her heart bucked wildly in her chest. What was he doing back in the bar? Oh, thank God he was back in the bar.

"Hey. Hey. Hey, buddy, what do you think you’re doing?"

What he was doing was dragging the man toward the door of the bar, saying something low in his ear. By the set of his jaw, Chloe couldn’t imagine it was pleasant. One of his buddies kept shouting at them as he leaped across the floor, going right for Kishon, hands locking around Kishon’s bicep.

It was chaos.

She dropped the broom and dustpan with a clatter she could barely hear over the shouting and ran after them. Chloe had to separate them, calm them down—

Kishon had a hand on the second businessman’s chest when she got there, two more of their friends hot on her heels. All of them shouting, posturing, chests puffed—drunk.

Let’s all take a minute, she said in her best I’m-in-charge voice. Guys. Let’s take a breather—

The second businessman spat a curse in her face.

Chloe threw a punch.

He lunged at her.

Kishon wasn’t there, and then he was, pulling the man back by the collar without letting go of the first guy. He was so strong. He didn’t flinch in the face of the yelling circle of buzzed businessmen.

Time to go, he growled, and hauled them toward the door.

It was all getting caught on camera, she realized. Phones were out of purses and pockets all around them, the gleaming rectangles recording every movement. Oh, this was not going to be good.

One of the businessmen blocked Kishon’s path like a gnat, hopping up and down, fists clenched at his sides. Who do you think you are to throw my friends out of this bar? The man’s voice shook with belligerent rage.

I’m this woman’s fiancé, Kishon shot back. "And all of you are done here tonight."

Her heartbeat sounded in her head, every pulse a drumbeat. Fiancé? Fiancé?

She didn’t even see him push them out the door, she was so dumbfounded.

—you to go. Her manger Peter’s voice broke into her thoughts.

What?

It’s time for you to go, Chloe. You’re done here. Peter’s face was flushed, jaw working. Almost everybody in this place has footage of you punching a customer. You’re done.

You’re kidding. Kishon was back at her side. Chloe’s done nothing wrong. Those men were harassing her.

I didn’t see that, hedged Peter. "What I did see was Chloe clocking a man in the middle of the bar."

Pain danced across her knuckles, surfacing for the first time from the wave of adrenaline. One of them grabbed me, she said, trying to keep her voice even.

This isn’t how you treat someone in your employ. Kishon’s tone was sharp. It’s despicable. Chloe, get your things. You’re coming with me.

I—what? The commanding tone of his voice was doing things to her. Heat low in her belly and between her legs, and goose bumps down the back of her neck.

I won’t leave you here. Come with me. Kishon offered her his hand, and she took it.

Your purse, whispered Hailey from just off her elbow, and she handed Chloe her battered bag.

And then Chloe walked away with the king of Hamari.

Kishon, she said as he pushed open the doors to the bar. I don’t think—

Cameras flashed. It felt like a hundred of them, but it was probably more like ten.

Not now, Kishon said, holding