The Sheikh’s Accidental Wife (Omirabad Sheikhs Book 2) Read online

  Omirabad Sheikhs

  The Sheikh’s Convenient Bride

  The Sheikh’s Accidental Wife

  The Sheikh’s Unexpected Fiancée

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, NOVEMBER 2019

  Copyright © 2019 Relay Publishing Ltd.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Leslie North is a pen name created by Relay Publishing for co-authored Romance projects. Relay Publishing works with incredible teams of writers and editors to collaboratively create the very best stories for our readers.

  Cover design by Mayhem Cover Creations

  www.relaypub.com

  Blurb

  What happens in Vegas…apparently can follow you forever. At least that’s Clementine Llewellyn’s experience who, after a night of drinking and partying, ends up married to a sheikh, of all people. A night of passionate romance? Sure. Marriage? Not so much. Clementine wants an immediate divorce, but Samir bin Salam’s tiny country’s divorce laws require them to stay married. For three months. Samir may be the hottest guy she’s ever seen—never mind spent time under the sheets with—but still. He’s a sheikh and she’s a nobody. But as the two of them spend more time together it doesn’t take long before Clem’s feelings for Samir go from lust to love. However, she’s sure Samir doesn’t feel the same. Best to cut her losses when she can.

  Samir isn’t looking for a wife, but when he wakes up with one, he’s willing to do what’s needed until the two can go their separate ways. He may not have a single thing in common with his quirky, flighty, sexy new wife, but all that is quickly forgotten when they’re in bed. That side of their marriage is perfection. In fact, most of the time he spends with her—the talks, the laughter, the way she completely embraces his people—is bliss. Even so, it’s shocking when he realizes he’s in love with her, a revelation that Samir may have made too late. Because by the time he knows he can’t live without her, she’s already gone…

  The odds may be against them, but all bets are off when Clem and Samir take a gamble on love.

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  (Omirabad Sheikhs Book Two)

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  End of The Shiekh’s Accidental Wife

  Thank You!

  About Leslie

  Sneak Peek: The Sheikh’s Unexpected Fiancée

  Also by Leslie

  1

  “Clem, he’s looking at you.”

  Clementine’s best friend, Heather Newell, leaned close, dark eyes twinkling. She was clearly focused on someone sitting—or standing—behind Clem, and she didn’t bother to turn her head.

  “Who?”

  “No, no. Don’t turn around. He’ll know I told you.”

  “I wasn’t going to turn around!” Clem sipped her drink, smiling around the straw. Heather had been up to these kinds of shenanigans from the moment they’d arrived in Las Vegas for the convention.

  “You were. I can sense it,” Heather said. “He’s very easy on the eyes.”

  Clem raised her eyebrows. “Most of the men here are your dad’s age.”

  “I know. That’s why I’ve got my eye on this one.”

  “Go talk to him, then.”

  Her best friend’s eyes narrowed. “Mmm…no, I don’t think so.”

  If Clem could say one thing about Heather, it was that she was very discerning when it came to the men she dated. She’d always been that way, ever since college. If she could say a second thing, it was that Heather was insanely loyal, and that combination was making this particular convention a never-ending ranking game. Heather would rank all the men, and Clem would tell her, once again, that she wasn’t interested in dating right now.

  Not now, and not here. The convention, being hosted at the Cosmopolitan hotel on the Vegas Strip, was supposed to be about business.

  Clem laughed to herself. Of course it was about business. But it was about money, too—and if this bar was any indication, it was about showing off exactly how much you had. If it weren’t for Heather, Clem would stand out at this bar—and not in a good way. Since she’d started her own business, she’d found plenty of opportunities to wear clothes that were more…flowing. Less skintight. Unlike the minidress Heather had picked out for her.

  “I’m really okay,” Clem insisted, though Heather was still scouting the space behind her. “I need to focus on networking.”

  Heather shot her a look. “This is networking. Mr. Handsome is at this bar, which means he’s probably attending the convention. And even if he’s not, he must have a business of his own.”

  “You can tell by the suit, can’t you?”

  “I can tell by the suit,” Heather confirmed. “All right. You can turn around now, and it won’t look so unnatural.”

  “I’m not turning around.” Not a single attractive man had walked past the two women unnoticed, and none of them had made Clementine’s pulse race. If she got distracted now, she’d lose her chance at rustling up clients for her new enterprise. It hadn’t been easy to balance conference attendance with Heather’s insistence on lounging by the pool, though Clem had to admit that she did pick up two business cards while they sipped fruity drinks and people watched. It hadn’t been an altogether horrible strategy.

  “Seriously. He is looking at you, and you should look back.”

  Clementine turned in a different direction, scanning the crowd. “I should strike up a conversation with someone. I’m running short on time.”

  “You’re running short on time to talk to the hottest person here.”

  Clem gave her a skeptical look. “The hottest person here? You should lead with that next time.” Still, she didn’t have time to be interested, not really. She was certain the idea behind her business was a solid one, especially with so many companies implementing green practices. This conference was more about imports and exports—the kind of high-end merchandise that took special care to transport around the world. Heather’s father was there to make deals for his import business, and he’d asked Heather to tag along. Heather had asked Clem, and she knew by now not to pass up these kinds of chances. How else was she going to afford a conference in Vegas?

  There was no other way.

  But it had been four days…

  She was torn. She could spend the rest of the evening—and they were firmly into the night at this point—looking for one last connection. Or she could turn around and see who Heathe
r was talking about. Clem took another sip of her drink, a pleasant buzz spreading through her veins.

  “Just look,” said Heather, leaning in to be heard over the chatter in the bar. So many men in dark suits. So many women in gorgeous clothes. Even if she did turn around, and even if he was the hottest person in the bar… “I’m a hundred percent certain it’s you he’s looking at. Quick. Right now.”

  Clem had resisted Heather for as long as she could. She turned, her heart beating faster. Heather loved this kind of thing, but the bar scene wasn’t Clem’s game. A little curiosity wasn’t out of line, was it? And anyway—

  Oh. Oh.

  “Him?” she said out of the corner of her mouth, grinning at the sight of him.

  “That’s him,” Heather whispered. “See?”

  She did see.

  The man at the bar was the most beautiful man Clementine had ever seen. If there were an entry for tall, dark, and handsome in Clem’s favorite online encyclopedia, his picture would be next to it. His eyes picked up the mood lighting from the bar as he lifted his drink and gave her a subdued nod. He was a far cry from the men Clem usually saw at the bar, who stood too close and talked too loudly. Everything about this man spoke of restraint.

  Except—what was that flashing in his eyes?

  She raised her hand and waved back.

  “I told you,” said Heather.

  “Wait.” Clem tore herself away from memorizing the curve of his lips. “Is he talking to your dad?” Heather’s father Howard, silver hair meticulously arranged, stood close to Mr. Handsome, still talking. Howard’s eyes were bright, and his smile reminded Clem of nothing so much as a shark. He hadn’t spent the evening rubbing elbows for nothing. He’d be here making deals.

  “Yes. Looks like Daddy’s got him cornered.”

  “Do you know who he is?”

  “I’m guessing it’s the sheikh Dad’s been talking about. We haven’t been introduced, though.”

  “A sheikh?” Clementine had heard of sheikhs, but only vaguely, and she’d never counted on any of them looking like they’d walked out of a men’s fashion magazine. She didn’t know what she wanted to focus on—the beautiful, long lines of his body underneath his suit, or the cut angles of his face, or those dark eyes. “From where?”

  “Omirabad.” Heather laughed. “Dad’s been trying to set up a meeting with them for a year. He wants to make a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  Mr. Handsome was still looking at her. Was it getting hotter in the bar, or were Clem’s own cheeks on fire? She resisted the urge to press the back of her hand to her forehead. Heather had only been half-right. He was not the most attractive man in the bar. He was the most attractive man in the world.

  “He wants to import some flower they have in Omirabad. The original meeting got canceled for some reason. If I’m right about who it is, he’s one of the biggest fish at the conference.”

  Clem elbowed her. “So why aren’t you over there right now?”

  “Not my type.”

  She snorted. “You are so picky. I don’t even know what your type is.”

  “Someone who’s not in my dad’s pocket, for one.”

  “I don’t think he could be in anyone’s pocket.” Down the bar, Howard put a hand on Mr. Handsome’s elbow, and he looked away from her. Clem cleared her throat, turning back toward Heather. “So, what are your plans for after the convention’s over?”

  Heather grinned at her over her glass.

  Clem took another pointed sip of her drink. “Stop it.”

  “You’re blushing.”

  “I’m not blushing.”

  “You are totally blushing.”

  Clem shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage. “It’s warm in here.”

  “Don’t play games with me, Clem. I’ve known you for a long time.”

  “I’ve known you for a long time, and you know better than to toy with my emotions by showing me a man who—”

  “Could sweep you off your feet?” Heather shook her head. “You haven’t taken me up on approaching anybody here all week.”

  “That’s because I have to build my business.” Heather was unlikely to fully understand Clem’s focus on work, no matter how many years they’d been friends. Clementine had met Heather their freshman year at Brown. Clem had been there on a scholarship, and that was the only reason she’d been able to attend at all. It had been a long shot for a foster kid from Pennsylvania, and it had been the most natural thing in the world for Heather. Now the two women were out in the world on their own, but Heather would always have a trust fund—and Clem would always work her ass off, knowing that the only safe bet in life was to depend on herself.

  “You’ve built your business,” Heather said. “I saw the business cards.”

  It was true—there were business cards. Nine of them, to be exact. But Clementine didn’t count on taking on all nine of those people as clients. They were seven years out of college, but Clementine was only eighteen months into owning her own business.

  “You don’t have a card from the sheikh,” Heather pointed out.

  Clem risked another glance at him. Howard had his claws in deep—she could see it from here. And as much as she loved Heather, who had never once treated her as lesser because she had gone to college on scholarship, she couldn’t support Howard’s business practices. He’d been welcoming enough in the distant way of other people’s dads who had other things to do, but she’d overheard him talking to enough people to know that his business was not geared toward responsibility, environmental or otherwise. And she was all about environmental stewardship.

  The pieces of the puzzle came together in her mind. If Howard wanted a deal with the sheikh, then the sheikh himself might get entangled in policies that, Clem was sure, would not reflect well on his own business as time went on. People noticed those kinds of things. It was why her job existed, and why if she worked hard enough, she’d eventually be an incredible success.

  “What are you planning right now?” Heather asked.

  “Nothing,” Clem said.

  “Bull.” Heather hooked her arm through Clem’s. “Let’s go say hi.”

  “What? No. I’m not here to meet men.” And that man might turn me into a blabbering idiot, if I got too close.

  “You are here to meet men. Businessmen. And the sheikh is one of the best businessmen here. Why else would my dad be so fixated on talking to him?” Heather tugged harder. “Come on. What if you landed a client? I’m sure Omirabad has tons of work for a brilliant woman like you.”

  Another rush of heat surged to Clem’s cheeks. “I am brilliant,” she agreed. But she was also not like Heather. Heather was the kind of woman men were interested in. A woman with connections. A woman with money. Heather had batted off an army of men so far. Before she’d fixed her attention on the sheikh, she’d been approached three separate times at the bar alone.

  She drained the rest of her drink in one gulp. “Fine. But let’s have one more drink first. Deal?”

  Heather sighed. “Only if you don’t take an hour to drink this one.” She clapped her hands. “Time’s a-wastin’. Besides, you never know what might happen tonight.” She winked at Clem. “Could be amazing…and what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

  2

  Howard Newell would not stop talking.

  When he’d started talking, Samir had accepted it as his due. After all, the man had been trying to set up a meeting with him for…what was it, a year? He could remember talking to his brother Rashid about it several lifetimes ago. There had been mention of a daughter at the time, but Howard had cornered Samir almost daily at the convention, and he’s seen no sign of her.

  Samir was glad that they hadn’t met in Omirabad. A scheduling conflict had required Howard to return to the United States. Howard might have become a permanent guest if it weren’t for that. Though it might not have been so bad, now that Samir’s official duties included being the royal liaison to the desert tribes.
He’d wanted to step into that role all his life, and now that his brother Rashid was taking over the kingship, he had his chance. It had been one of his happiest years yet.

  “—fruitful partnership between our two enterprises,” Howard was saying. “I have contacts all over the continental United States, and we’re expanding operations into Canada even as we speak. By the end of the year—”

  By the end of the year, Samir would have an issue of his own to contend with. He’d be turning thirty, and ancient traditions in Omirabad required him to be married. His older brother Rashid had tied the knot just under the wire. It was a good thing, too, because their father, Rafiq, was ready to abdicate the throne. That meant Rashid had spent the past year taking over more and more of the responsibilities of the throne, and Samir had stepped into his old role as liaison to the desert tribes.

  That was the rub. A year ago, he’d been exploring the idea of an import/export partnership with a player in the United States. The royal family could set up those kinds of partnerships on behalf of the tribes, but it had fallen through the cracks in the midst of all the transition. Now that Samir was working with the tribes in a more official capacity, he wanted to increase their prosperity—and soon.

  The way to do that was to leverage their traditional business of selling the Omirabad crocus. The stigma of each flower was used to make saffron, and it was—no exaggeration—a hot commodity. But it could be worth even more if Samir could come up with a way to sell the actual crocuses, as well. They had a short lifespan, which made them even more of a luxury item. If they could do both—sell the stigma and the crocuses…