Читать книгу Hired To Wear The Sheikh's Ring - Rachael Thomas - Страница 10
ОглавлениеEVERYONE HAD A PRICE. Jafar Al-Shehri knew that better than most. He also knew exactly what that price was as far as bridesmaid Tiffany Chapelle was concerned.
It was a price he was more than prepared to pay in order to get what he wanted. He would do anything to prevent the increasingly hostile claim from his cousin Simdan on the kingdom he’d inherited after his brother’s unexpected death. Ruling Shamsumara had never been his ambition, but duty to his people and kingdom, as well as to his brother, was something he would take very seriously. After hearing about Ms Chapelle’s unconventional business as a hired bridesmaid, he knew she was exactly what he needed to stave off Simdan’s latest attempt to overthrow him.
Jafar’s gaze locked with that of the tall slender woman dressed in a bridesmaid gown of pale blue. She raised her brows in question, then continued with her duties at his friend and business partner Damian Cole’s wedding. Her glossy dark brown hair was piled high on her head and dainty white flowers within the style matched the ‘English country garden’ setting of the wedding. She had a dusting of freckles on her face, which only added to her beauty, to the allure she unwittingly created. The thought of kissing her full lips had remained irritatingly close to the forefront of his mind since they had been introduced as best man and bridesmaid yesterday afternoon at rehearsals.
Ever since she’d smiled up at him, the stunning bridesmaid had unsettled him. He tried to convince himself it was because of the business deal he intended to put to Ms Chapelle and not the sparkling sizzle that had rocketed through him as she’d shook his hand.
When his friend had first announced he was marrying his childhood sweetheart, Jafar hadn’t been at all surprised. What had shocked him was that the chief bridesmaid was not a close friend or relative of his bride, but a woman hired to do the job. Tiffany Chapelle made her living from hiring herself to brides as not just a wedding planner, but the chief bridesmaid. Damian had laughed when he’d quizzed him about hiring a stranger, saying every bride should hire their chief bridesmaid, especially if she had overzealous friends like his wife-to-be. Since then, Jafar had done his research on Tiffany thoroughly. Very thoroughly.
She was a woman who appeared to live romance vicariously through other brides’ weddings and surprisingly had been hired by many rich and famous names. The fact that she was prepared to hire herself as a bridesmaid made her the perfect candidate for what he had in mind. Added to that, she didn’t have any obvious signs of a man in her life but, most importantly for him, she was in considerable debt and had recently given up her rented apartment and moved in with her sister. He hadn’t yet discovered what the debt was from but was confident he could strike a deal with her. To him, the debt was nothing and he intended to offer her far more to take on a role that would require her total commitment for the next three months.
The orchestra began to play and Jafar had attended enough Western weddings to know that the bride and groom would now dance alone and that he, as the best man, would be expected to lead the chief bridesmaid to the dance floor to join the happy couple a short time later. His best-man role was a duty he intended to perform with the same exacting standards he did everything, especially as it would give him the opportunity to begin subtle negotiations with the delightful woman fate had delivered into his path as the answer to his problems.
He focused his attention on the bride then his friend. He clenched his teeth together as he watched the commanding man he knew his friend to be, a lethal businessman who took no prisoners, looking adoringly into the eyes of the woman he’d married. He should be happy for Damian but witnessing such devotion, such love, served only to remind him of all he’d lost when he’d discovered Niesha’s true colours. They had been promised to one another since they were children and he’d always had a fondness for her that had turned into what he’d then assumed was love. He’d been more than ready to enter into the marriage and make it work. Niesha, however, had set her sights on someone far superior to the spare heir of Shamsumara, as he was then.
The trail of his thoughts led back to his brother and the overwhelming sense of loss for a man who’d been both brother and father to him, shielding him from the wrath of their father’s power-hungry ways, which had almost brought the kingdom to its knees. Malek had worked hard to regain the trust of the people and now that duty fell to him. He would not and could not fail his brother.
‘I think this is where you come in.’ The sultry and somewhat chastising voice of the bridesmaid jilted him from the gathering storm of thoughts as she came to stand next to him.
‘I was merely allowing the happy couple time to enjoy the spotlight.’ He looked down into blue eyes. They were as pale as her dress but rimmed with deep blue and full of an intensity that did more than hint at her passionate side. That sizzle he’d experienced at yesterday’s introduction strengthened, becoming more like a bolt of lightning across the desert sky of his homeland.
Was it excitement at finally being able to put in motion his plan to save the people of his kingdom, Shamsumara, from his cousin’s hostile claim on the country that bordered his own? Or was it the thought of being able to hold this particular woman in his arms as they danced?
‘And there I was thinking you were avoiding me.’ There was a teasing note to her voice, one that suggested a playful nature. A woman who was able to enjoy life.
‘I hardly think allowing you time to complete the duties you have been hired for is avoiding you. That is your role, is it not? Hired bridesmaid?’ His response was swift and the ferocity behind his words surprised him as much as the sizzle of tension around them, but the deal he intended to put to her was far too important to allow himself to be distracted by a pretty face and a sexy figure—or the challenge that lingered in the depths of those sexy eyes.
‘You don’t approve of me, do you, Mr Al-Shehri?’ Her full lips pressed together in annoyance as she stood, one hand on her hip, glaring up at him, her eyes sparking like the icicles he’d always been fascinated with during those long cold winters at boarding school in England. ‘Or is it the fact that I charge women to be not only their wedding planner but their bridesmaid too? It may be unconventional but Bridesmaid Services isn’t the only business offering such services.’
‘Having had the somewhat dubious pleasure of meeting the bride’s best friend this afternoon, I can see how there is a need for hiring a bridesmaid who will do all that is required without any dramatics.’ He’d soon discovered just what Damian had meant when he’d met the woman in question.
‘So it must be me you don’t approve of.’ She teased him again with a smile and that underlying provocation in her voice, daring him to agree.
Challenge fired in her eyes but, instead of engaging her further in a battle of words, he gently but firmly took her hand from her hip, stifling a smile as her eyes widened in surprise. Before she could protest he led her onto the dance floor, fully aware she had no choice but to do his bidding unless she was prepared to risk drawing unwanted attention to them.
The gathered wedding guests applauded as he pulled her gently towards him, taking her in his arms until he could feel her slender body pressed against his. His body responded instantly to hers, to her scent, light and floral like the classic English garden flowers of the hotel. The movement of her waist beneath his hand as she began to move slowly in time to the music only intensified the surge of lust that hurtled through him.
What the hell was happening? It was as if this dark-haired beauty was sapping his strength, diminishing the control he was renowned for. She was making him want things he’d long ago learnt were not possible. He desired her, of that there was no doubt, but it was much more intense than his usual need of a woman. She was unlocking the man within him who long ago had put aside the need for the companionship of a woman. He knew precisely how destructive needs such as that could be. He shut down the train of thought, banished it from his mind, allowing heated lust to fill his mind and body in its place.
‘Are you going to tell me?’ The haughty rising of her brows and the challenge in her voice helped to snap him from the edge of somewhere he hadn’t been for a long time. Somewhere he had no wish to venture ever again—memories of his past, of the life he could have led with the young girl he’d grown up with, the woman who should have become his bride. He pushed them savagely away. Now was not the time to complicate the future with the past and what he’d hoped for.
‘It is not that I disapprove of you,’ he said softly, holding her gaze as other couples now joined them on the dance floor. ‘Quite the reverse.’
‘You approve?’ There was genuine shock in those lovely eyes now and despite the memories she’d almost cracked open he laughed softly.
‘I do, yes.’ He smiled at her increasing shock. ‘You are the first woman I have met who doesn’t attach sentimental nonsense to a wedding.’
She tilted her head to one side and looked up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion. ‘This is my job, Mr Al-Shehri. I am merely doing what I have been hired to do, which is to make it the best day of the bride’s life.’
‘So your sense of duty is strong?’ He engaged willingly in the conversation, pleased that he could discover all the finer details about this woman from her, not second-hand through someone else. Private investigators could only glean so much, but they could never inform him of what made a person tick and it was important he got all the answers he needed before he put his deal to her. A deal that would secure his kingdom, Shamsumara, and maybe even set to rest the ghosts of his past once and for all.
‘I’m dancing with you, aren’t I?’ Laughter sparked in her eyes and even though he wanted to keep their discussion on track and on a businesslike footing, he couldn’t help but laugh too.
‘I had no idea it would be such an arduous task for you.’ He propelled them to the edge of the dance floor and towards the exit from the grand marquee, decked out in white and pale pink. The flower arrangements were all of the same white and pink flowers; only the bridesmaids in pale blue deviated from the colour scheme. ‘Shall we enjoy the late-afternoon sunshine?’
‘Are you taking me away from my duties, Mr Al-Shehri?’ She was testing him, of that there was no doubt.
Jafar glanced at Damian and his bride, dancing as if they were one being. ‘I think your duties are over for now. The bride and groom look blissfully unaware of anything except each other.’
* * *
Tiffany didn’t miss the undertone of steely irritation in the best man’s accented voice. All day she’d felt his gaze on her. She’d been acutely aware of him since their first meeting yesterday, in a way that unsettled her, tugging at dreams of love and happiness she’d long since given up on. As she’d sizzled beneath his scrutiny she had tried hard to ignore the disapproving set of his mouth, which had only increased each time they’d had to spend any amount of time together.
She’d also tried to ignore the fact that he was extremely handsome, tall and, with his dark skin, had an exotic appeal she knew had captured the attention of many female guests at the wedding—married and single alike. If circumstances were different, if she weren’t here to work, then maybe he would be just the distraction from life she needed right now. Shocked at the direction her thoughts had wandered, she forced herself back to the present, wishing her best friend, Lilly, hadn’t planted the idea of a casual fling, a one-night stand, as the best way to rid herself of the bad memories of her ex-boyfriend. She just wasn’t that kind of girl. That was why she’d been dumped.
‘Now I do detect a note of cynicism,’ she said as she looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the glare of the late-afternoon summer sun with her hand as they stopped at the edge of the rose terrace. It was obvious this man was as against the idea of marriage as she now was but it was men like him who had shattered her illusion of true love.
‘Do you believe in love and happiness, Miss Chapelle?’ His gaze pierced hers and the vivid green of his eyes was in total contrast to his inky black hair and not at all what she’d expected when she’d been told the best man was a desert sheikh, ruler of a kingdom far away.
Tiffany reeled at the direct question, at his scathing tone. It proved her thoughts of moments ago—he most certainly didn’t. She also was well aware of his reputation with women after listening to the bride chatter with the other three bridesmaids, all of whom were friends and one very obviously smitten with the dark desert stranger.
‘As a matter of fact, I don’t.’ She pushed back her long-held dreams of finding the kind of love her parents had never managed to, standing taller in the face of this man’s challenge. ‘Not that I would ever let any bride I work with know that.’
He looked into her eyes, the connection so intense she could hardly breathe, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking away, of fluttering her eyelashes and enticing him to make her his next conquest. She almost gasped at the thought. What on earth made her think a man like him would want anything to do with her, a woman who, at the age of twenty-five, was yet to experience the touch of a man’s caress and the pleasure of that ultimate intimacy between a man and woman? She’d been adamant she wanted to wait until her wedding night, until she’d found that fairy-tale happy ending.
‘I like you, Miss Chapelle.’ He turned from her, leaving her visibly weak after being under the spotlight of his gaze, but his next words sent her back into the spiral of confusion he’d had her in since he’d taken her hand and led her to the dance floor. ‘I think it’s important to like the person you are married to.’
She looked at his broad shoulders, encased in the dark charcoal-grey suit he wore, and wondered why such a self-assured, bordering on arrogant man couldn’t face her and say the words.
She touched a nearby pink rose, the softness of its petals strangely calming. ‘Yes, I think you are right. After all, if you don’t like the person you marry, the odds of the marriage lasting are pretty slim.’
Her parents were testament to that. As were the arguments followed by stony silence she’d grown up thinking were normal. It was only when they’d split up and she’d been old enough to stay over at friends’ that she’d realised it was far from normal. Those volatile early years of her life had made her resolute in her determination that she would have a happy, love-filled marriage.
He turned to face her. ‘We agree on that, at least.’
‘We do?’ He confused her, one minute talking as if referring to marriage and friendship in general, then as if the discussion were directly related to them. As if they were a couple about to be married.
‘Indeed, yes.’ He moved towards her and the scent of his aftershave, exotic and wild, hit her as it had done on the dance floor. At least this time she wasn’t pressed against his body, feeling every move he made, igniting sensations—hot, burning sensations—she’d never felt before. ‘And therefore I would like to engage your services.’
‘You’re getting married.’ She couldn’t keep the shock from her voice. This man was a playboy desert sheikh who made no secret of the many women he’d loved and left. She’d found that out very easily when she’d looked him up on the Internet, just as she always did with every best man she was paired with. At least then she was able to find out the type of man he was, but Sheikh Jafar Al-Shehri had surpassed every other best man she’d worked alongside. Ruler of a desert kingdom, a reformed playboy prince after unexpectedly inheriting the title, he was the ultimate incarnation of everything she wanted to avoid in a man.
He was also everything she’d been searching for in a man, yet had never expected to find. Ever since her only steady boyfriend had dumped her because she’d wanted to wait until they were married to share intimacies, she’d been very cautious about getting involved again. The idea that the desert sheikh could be the man to have a wild, passionate one-night stand with in order to shake off her past, as her friend Lilly had put it, was a step too far.
‘I am.’ His deep and commanding voice crashed through her wild train of thoughts, bringing her sharply back to the present. How could she be having such thoughts about this man?
She forced herself to look into those sexy eyes, to appear in control even though her heart began to thump harder in her chest. Was it his sudden closeness or her thoughts? ‘And you want me to organise your wedding and be bridesmaid to your bride?’
He looked at her, assessing her; an air of calculation lingered around them. ‘No, I want to hire you—as my bride.’
She blinked and looked up at him, unable to say anything, then to her utter embarrassment she laughed.
* * *
Jafar inhaled deeply and waited while the prim and proper Miss Chapelle’s laughter subsided. How dared she laugh at him? Nobody but his closest friends would dare to do such a thing. Didn’t she know who he was?
‘I think you have had too much champagne, Mr Al-Shehri.’ Her voice still rang with laughter and a smile twitched at the edges of his mouth as she teased him, showing him a light-hearted side to her he found intriguing, but he forced it down.
‘I am in full and total control,’ he said as he prepared to play his ultimate ace. ‘I have need of a bride and you, I believe, have need of a large sum of money to cover debts.’
Silence sliced between them as she looked at him suspiciously, all trace of laughter suddenly gone. The dark rims of blue around her eyes reminding him of the ocean that formed one border to his kingdom, but the paler centres had become hostile, like the heat of the desert. ‘I see I am not the only one to have been doing some research.’
The tartness of her voice warned him he was pushing her too far but, as ever, the challenge of getting exactly what he wanted pushed him on. ‘I never enter into anything, not even being a best man to my childhood friend, without doing my research, Miss Chapelle.’
‘So, do enlighten me, what has your research turned up?’ She folded her right arm across her, beneath her breasts, placing the elbow of the other arm in her hand. Then, in a sexily tormenting gesture, she placed her thumb under her chin and her finger on her lips, sending a bolt of hot desire surging through him.
Her eyes blazed like the purest of gems, and her full lips snagged his attention as a bright red fingernail pushed into their plumpness. The late-afternoon sunlight danced in her hair, turning it to fiery bronze, highlighting the freckles sprinkled over her face. All he could think about was pulling her hard against his body, pressing her curves into him and kissing her. There was nothing gentle about the heat in his body, the need to touch her, kiss her, possess her. Without a doubt, he knew that if he gave in to the demands of his body now, it would be fierce, savage and wild. It would be total possession and if he weren’t putting such an outlandish deal to her, he might already be taking her to his suite here in the hotel.
‘I think you are bluffing, Mr Al-Shehri.’ Her words dragged him from the erotic images of just what he’d like to do to her, sharply focusing his attention once more.
‘You are in debt and you also need more, much more, thanks to your brother-in-law, who has left your sister in a very precarious financial situation.’ He’d discovered that useful bit of information at almost the eleventh hour.
She gasped, her eyes becoming wide with shock. ‘How do you know that?’
‘I made it my business to know, Miss Chapelle.’ He moved towards her, unintentionally breathing in her delicate scent, serving only to stir his body’s needs once more. ‘Everybody has a price and I now know yours.’
‘So you want to pay me to be your bride?’
‘Yes, Miss Chapelle, I do.’ He’d just heard Damian say those words to his bride, but they’d been said with love, with hope for the future. Now he was saying them to this woman who stirred his senses in a way no other woman had; even Niesha, the woman he should have married if his life hadn’t careered off course, hadn’t ever roused in him such intense passion.
‘And what makes you think I would agree to such a bizarre request?’ Both her arms were folded protectively in front of her now, one hand pulling firmly on the other arm, serving only to press her breasts together in a way the pale blue dress couldn’t disguise. Lust throbbed through him but he pushed it aside. This was not one of his casual affairs; this was a woman who held the future of his kingdom in her hands. The answer she gave him decided the fate of his people—and his.
If she declined, then his cousin, Simdan, would have every right to challenge his ability to rule. He didn’t have the time to find a wife in the conventional way of his country. Besides, with his sister expecting her first child, which he intended to name as his heir, he didn’t require a wife, merely a bride.
‘As I intend our marriage to take place in two weeks’ time you will be financially rewarded and therefore able to settle all your debts, and those of your sister. I will also ensure you have a substantial amount of money once our agreement is complete.’
‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I have absolutely no intention of getting married for any sum of money and certainly not in two weeks.’
Jafar hadn’t expected her to say yes instantly. Indeed, he would have worried that she saw him as some kind of knight in shining armour, the answer to a woman’s dreams of happy ever afters, if she had. But in light of her current financial situation, he hadn’t expected an outright no.
‘So what has happened to the bridesmaid who ensures a bride’s dream comes true to make her so against marriage?’ He taunted her and satisfaction filled him as he saw her visible blanch at his question. It seemed she too had issues with the state of matrimony.
‘What makes you sure something has happened?’ She flung the question straight back at him.
‘A woman who prefers to always be the bridesmaid and not the bride is definitely hiding from something.’ He resisted the urge to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear as it slipped from the confines of her bridal hairdo, but had to clench his fist tightly in order to do that.
‘This is my job, Mr Al-Shehri.’ She glared at him and once again the need to kiss away the angry tension in those lips lurched forwards. ‘Only a man like you could seriously contemplate buying a bride.’
Irritation spiked at the desire. She dared to challenge him? ‘And what kind of man is that, Miss Chapelle?’
* * *
Tiffany could hardly contain her anger. How dared he offer to buy her? What kind of country did he rule over if he thought he could simply buy a bride when the need arose? Even worse than that, she had actually contemplated accepting because right now she’d do anything to free her sister, Bethany, of that abusive, gambling man she’d married seven years ago, and sort out the financial mess he’d created then walked away and left her in.
‘The kind of man who can buy just about anything he wants, even, it seems, a bride.’ She hurled the accusation at him and turned quickly, intent on walking away from him, from the lure of the answer to Bethany’s financial problems and the almost irresistible draw of the man himself.
‘Can you really afford to walk away from such an offer?’ His words were hard and full of determination. Her steps faltered and she stood with her back to him, breathing deeply, still shocked by the way being close to him had made her feel as well as the outrageous proposition he’d put to her. ‘Can you really deny your sister?’
She whirled round. ‘I have no idea how you have managed to find out so much about me and my family, Mr Al-Shehri, but I will not be bought.’
He moved towards her, his long strides closing the gap between them. ‘I have no intention of buying you, Miss Chapelle. I merely wish to hire you to accompany me to Shamsumara and become my bride. Beyond that we can remain exactly as we are. Strangers.’
‘Your audacity almost makes me speechless,’ she hurled at him. ‘You even expect me to go to your country.’
‘I doubt there is much that can make you speechless.’ The tormenting laughter in his voice was clear, and as he smiled and raised his brows at her she wanted to stamp her foot and scream in frustration, but before she could do anything he continued the onslaught. ‘Just as I know you will do anything you can for your sister—and her little girl.’
Now he’d hit her Achilles heel. Four-year-old Kelly didn’t deserve to be caught up in the mess her parents had created. The acrimonious divorce had turned her from a bright happy child to an anxious little girl who barely spoke and Tiffany would do absolutely anything to rectify that, especially as she knew what it felt like to be that little girl.
‘This has nothing to do with my niece.’ She could barely control her anger now. How dared he bring an innocent child into this absurd deal?
‘Think about it, Tiffany.’ The sound of her name on his lips shocked her, not least because of the dart of pleasure it sent coursing through her. ‘Meet me here after breakfast tomorrow, when I am sure you will have come to realise this deal is the answer to all your problems.’
