The Sheikh and the Pregnant Bride. Сьюзен Мэллери
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words, a job.”
“A really great job, but a job. When this is done, I’ll go home to my real life and you’ll have the sweetest ride in El Deharia. We’ll both get what we want.”
Qadir smiled. “I always do.”
Maggie refused to think about how much per minute she was paying on her calling card as the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Jon, it’s me.”
“Did you get it?”
Maggie threw herself back on the massive bed in her large suite. A suite that was even bigger than the one at the hotel. “Of course. Was there any doubt?”
“He was expecting your dad.”
“I know, but I dazzled him with my charm.”
Jon laughed. “Maggie, you don’t have any charm. Did you bully him? I know you bullied him.”
“He’s a prince, which makes him immune to the whole bullying thing. Besides, I’m a nice person.”
“Mostly, but you’re also driven and determined. I know you.”
“Better than anyone,” she agreed, keeping her voice light despite the sudden tightness in her chest. Losing her dad had been the worst thing that had ever happened to her, but losing Jon had been nearly as bad. Jon had been her best friend, her first lover…pretty much everything.
“How’s the car?” he asked.
Maggie launched into ten minutes of praise complete with technical details. She paused only when she recognized Jon’s “uh-huhs” for what they were. Lack of interest.
“You’re writing an e-mail, aren’t you?” she demanded.
“No. Of course not. I’m mesmerized by, ah, the V-8 engine.”
“It’s a V-12 and I’ll stop talking about it now. I should let you get back to work.”
“I’m glad you got the job. Let me know how it goes. Or if you need anything.”
“I will. Say hi to Elaine.”
Jon didn’t answer.
Maggie sighed. “I mean it. Say hi to her. I’m happy for you, Jonny.”
“Maggie—”
“Don’t. We’re friends. That’s what we’re supposed to be. We both know that. I gotta run. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”
She hung up before he could say anything else.
Despite the late hour, she was too restless to go to bed. Jet lag, she thought, knowing the twelve-or fifteen-hour time difference had messed up her body clock.
She’d traded in her pantsuit for jeans and a T-shirt. After slipping her feet into a pair of flip-flops, she opened the French doors and stepped out into the cool night air.
Her rooms faced the ocean, which was pretty exciting. Back home she had great views of the mountains, but vast expanses of water was its own special treat.
“Don’t get used to living like this,” she reminded herself. She’d rented out her house for the next couple of months. It was the end of ski season in Aspen and rentals still went for a premium. But once the job was done, she would be returning to the small house where she’d grown up, with its creaky stairs and single bathroom.
She breathed in the smell of salt air. There were lights in the garden below and the sound of voices in the distance. From what she could tell, the balcony circled the entire palace. Curious and eager to explore, Maggie closed her door behind her and started walking.
She passed empty rooms and a lot of closed and curtained windows. One set of doors stood open. She caught a glimpse of three girls cuddling on the sofa with a man who looked a little like Qadir.
A brother, she figured. From what she remembered reading, the king had several sons. No daughters. One wouldn’t want a mere woman getting in the way, she thought with a grin. What would it be like to grow up here? Rich and pampered, being given ponies from the age of three. It must be—
“Qadir, I expect more,” a gruff voice said in the darkness.
Maggie skidded to a halt so quickly, she nearly slid out of her sandals.
“In time,” Qadir said, his voice calm.
“How much time? As’ad is engaged. He will be married in a few weeks. You need to settle down, as well. How is it possible I have so many sons and no grandchildren?”
Maggie knew the smartest thing would be to turn around and head back to her room. It’s what she meant to do…except she couldn’t help wanting to listen. She’d never heard a king speak to a prince before. She couldn’t believe they were arguing, just like a regular family.
She slipped behind a large pole and did her best to stay completely silent as Qadir said, “As’ad brings you three daughters. That should be enough for a start.”
“You are not taking this seriously. With all the women you have been with, you should have found at least one you’re willing to marry.”
“Sorry. No.”
“It’s that girl,” the king murmured. “From before. She’s the reason.”
“She has nothing to do with this.”
Woman? What woman? Maggie made a mental note to get on the computer and check out Qadir’s past.
“If you cannot find a bride on your own, I will find one for you,” the king said. “You will do your duty.”
There was the sound of footsteps, then a door closed. Maggie stayed in place, not sure if both men had left.
She breathed as quietly as she could and was about to go back the way she’d come when she heard Qadir say, “You can come out now. He’s gone.”
Maggie winced as heat burned her cheeks. She stepped into view. “I didn’t mean to listen in. I was taking a walk and then you were talking. I was really quiet. How did you know I was here?”
Qadir nodded toward the plate-glass window that reflected the balcony. “I saw you approaching. It does not matter. My quarrel with the king is common knowledge. It is an argument my brothers and I share with him.”
“Still, I wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose.”
“You seem intent on repeating that fact.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m rude.”
“But I have already hired you. What does it matter what I think?”
“Because you’re my boss. You could fire me tomorrow.”
“True, but per our contract, you would still get paid.”
She fought against the need to roll her eyes. “While the money is important, so is doing a good job. I don’t want to leave until the car is finished. It’s a matter of pride.”
Maybe being über-rich and a sheik meant he wouldn’t understand that. Maggie doubted Qadir had ever had to work for anything.
“Will your father really find you a wife?” she asked.
“He will try. Ultimately the choice is mine. I can refuse to marry her.”
“Why would he think anyone would agree to an arranged marriage?”
Qadir leaned against the railing. “The woman in question will be marrying into a royal family. We trace our bloodline back more than a thousand years. For some, the dictates of history and rank matter far more than any matters of the heart.”
A thousand years? Maggie couldn’t imagine that. But then she’d grown up under relatively modest circumstances in a fairly typical medium-size