Hired To Wear The Sheikh's Ring. Rachael Thomas
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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