The Sheikh's Fake Courtship (Halabi Sheikhs Book 2) Page 4

  “And you look the part too,” said Aziza. “Or you will in a minute.” She put down her file and reached for a shoebox. “Try these for size.”

  Raina lifted the lid and pushed back the tissue paper. The shoes were exquisite, white and gold to match her outfit, encrusted in glittering jewels. With heels at least two inches high. She let out a whistle as she held them to the light.

  “They’re gorgeous,” she said. “But I’ve never worn pumps. I feel wobbly just looking at them.”

  “Give them a try.” Farah took her elbow and helped her to her feet. “Just slip them on and lean on me.”

  Raina tried, but her ankles shook and threatened to turn. Standing still felt precarious. One step and she’d be on her ass.

  “Not happening.” She stepped out of the shoes, shaking her head. “They’re amazing, but we’ll be doing a lot of walking. What do you have in a flat?”

  “Try these,” said Aziza. She held out a new pair, cute and strappy, with shorter, chunky heels. Raina slipped them on and took an experimental step.

  “They’re perfect.” She bounced a little, testing her balance. “Oh, these are incredible. So comfortable. Can I wear them every day?”

  “They might not go with everything. But we can get you some in other colors.” Aziza went to the dresser and opened a long wooden box. “Now, I know you want practical, but a princess without her jewels is like a day without the sun. Close your eyes.”

  Raina rose on tiptoe, trying to peer into the box. Aziza moved to block her.

  “No, don’t look. You have to see it on.”

  “Okay. Tell me when to open ’em.” She turned to the mirror and closed her eyes. A musical jingling filled the air, and something heavy and cold settled on her chest. Earrings came next, so long they brushed her shoulders, and a pair of heavy rings.

  “You can look.” Aziza stepped back. Raina opened her eyes, and her heart skipped a beat. She still looked like herself, but the earrings framed her face beautifully, and the gold echoed the highlights in her hair.

  “This is...” Raina blinked, at a loss for words. “It’s like none of my clothes ever fit, and I didn’t even know it.” She plucked at her pants, where they flared over her hips. “My God, I have a waist.”

  “And quite a graceful one, too.” Aziza adjusted her hair, tucking a flyaway into place. “This cut’s really practical, by the way. Just brush it and go, or you can get the updo in ten minutes. I’ve left instructions on your desk.”

  “Thanks. I’m—”

  “Late,” said Farah. She held up her phone. “His Royal Highness is waiting.”

  “Oh? Where?” Raina spun around in a flap.

  “On the terrace, by the fountain. Can you find your way?”

  “Yeah. The fountain. I know where that is.” Raina took off, stumbling in her heels. Somebody snickered, and she forced herself to slow down. How did a princess walk, she wondered? Long, regal strides? Tiny, dainty steps? She straightened her back and tried a catwalk strut, but maybe she should glide? She’d heard models did that, sort of floated along, but how they managed it, she couldn’t imagine.

  By the time she heard the splash of the fountain, she’d found her stride. Chadil looked up as he entered, and she was gratified when he fumbled with his phone, nearly dropping it in his lap.

  “Raina. You look...” A slow smile spread over his face, and for a moment, she saw David. “You look wonderful. How do you feel?”

  “I feel wonderful,” said Raina, and she was surprised to find she meant it. “I was kinda butthurt at first, when you dissed my lucky Crocs, but I actually learned a lot.”

  “Well, that’s—wait. You were what?”

  “Butthurt. You know, when you’re mad and offended, all out of proportion?”

  Chadil chuckled. “Okay, never use that word in public. But I do apologize.” He led her out to the terrace, away from prying eyes. “I could’ve handled that with more delicacy. You’re lovely in anything you wear. I just—for a public function—”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Then I have a surprise for you.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a golden bracelet, elegantly figured and set with emeralds. “It was my mother’s,” he said. “I want you to wear it.”

  Raina’s eyes went wide. “I shouldn’t. I might lose it.”

  “You won’t,” said Chadil. He took her hand and squeezed it. “Look at those emeralds—they bring out the color of your eyes. And that delicate filigree, like the gold strands in your hair. It’s like it was made for you.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.” Chadil stepped closer, eyes warm and earnest. “If my mother were alive, she’d be insisting you wear it. No, she’d want you to keep it, and so do I.” He fastened it around her wrist and turned it to catch the light. “Beautiful. Like you.”

  Raina blinked away sudden tears. This didn’t feel like more of Chadil’s spin. It felt warm and sincere, a gesture from the heart. Maybe his performance at the palace gates had been panic-fueled, and she’d based her impression of him on a moment of madness. She looked up quickly, not wanting to ruin her makeup, and since when had that mattered to her?

  “I’m honored,” she said. “Truly, I am. And I’m looking forward to our outing.”

  Chadil positively beamed at that, and Raina’s heart soared. For the first time since her arrival in Al-Mifadhir, she was glad she’d come, excited even. Touring the hospital was a dream come true, and with Chadil as her date, who knew what might happen?

  6

  Chadil breathed shallowly, trying to ignore the hospital smell. The place was cheerful, designed with kids in mind, but that smell made him sick. It took him back to the worst moments of his life—Edlyn’s accident and her painful recovery. Mother’s illness and the news of her death. Rushing to Father’s bedside, too late to say goodbye.

  “And what about accommodations for families?” Raina was loving this, peppering the director with questions. Chadil smiled at that. He’d thought she’d be nervous with the press following them around, but she hardly seemed to notice the cameras.

  “The dorms across the street are ours,” said the director. “Stays are free for families. Everything we do, we do with our patients’ comfort in mind. Our cafeteria, for example—”

  Chadil glanced at his phone. He and Raina were trending, not as strongly as they had been following their announcement, but most of the coverage was positive. People loved that she was a nurse but weren’t so sure of her American upbringing.

  A small child bumped up against him, and he nearly dropped his phone. “Excuse me, young man.”

  “Sorry, sir.” The kid jumped over his feet and ran to Raina, arms outstretched. She was handing out stuffed toys and books, and where had those come from? He didn’t remember that carpet bag, nor had she asked his opinion.

  “Kitty cat or dinosaur?” Raina made the toys dance, but the little boy shook his head.

  “Book.”

  “What do you say?” An older man scurried up behind him, perhaps his grandfather. The kid added a please.

  “Here you go,” said Raina. She handed him a picture book. His face lit up, and Chadil wondered what he was in the hospital for. He didn’t look that sick.

  “Past this line, we have our pre-op suites.” The director led them down the hall into the newest section of the ward. “The late king commissioned several studies, and these rooms are built for comfort, from the architecture up. The lighting, the color of the walls, even the selection of music—” His beeper went off, and he frowned. “Excuse me one moment.”

  Raina stepped aside to give the man his privacy, and Chadil moved to join her.

  “Stuffed animals in a hospital? Are you sure that’s all right?”

  “We’re not in the ICU,” she said. “I’m a nurse, remember? Speaking of which, I was hoping to talk to the nursing coordinator. I thought I might work here while we’re courting, at least on a volunteer basis.”

  “Work here?�
� Chadil’s brows shot up. How would that look, the prince’s intended scrubbing out bedpans? Not to mention the time involved. He’d already arranged three more appearances, one an all-day affair, and how did Raina expect—

  “Your Highness?” The director appeared at his elbow. “We’re all so honored by your visit. I’d hoped I might impose on you a moment?”

  Chadil nodded absently. Raina had been hijacked by a pair of nurses, and the three of them were chatting away, thick as thieves already. That was a rare gift, he reflected, that kind of effortless charm. It couldn’t be learned, couldn’t be faked. Raina cared, and it drew people to her. Chadil looked for the cameras—this was prime PR material—but they’d been barred from the pre-op suites.

  “—and we’d hoped to present you with a prospectus, perhaps begin construction in December—” The director was still droning on, leading him farther from the cameras. Chadil nodded along, hiding his annoyance under a bland expression. He’d come for the publicity, not to listen to some pitch.

  “I’d love to have you at the palace,” he said, hoping to cut the spiel short. “You could bring your proposal, talk to my brother as well.”

  “We’d be honored. So honored. But before I let you go—”

  Chadil resigned himself to his fate. Pushy bureaucrats were a fact of life. He settled into smile-and-nod mode, keeping half an eye on Raina all the while. She’d found her way into one of the suites and was sitting by a skinny little boy’s bed, speaking quietly. The kid didn’t look so good, all pale and scared in his hospital gown. Chadil willed him not to throw up on her. That would be just what he needed, Raina in the papers with puke down her pants.

  He broke away from the director and sidled up to rescue her, but she didn’t seem to need it.

  “How about an octopus?” She held up a stuffed toy, squeezing it so its tentacles danced. “Eight arms. Great hugs.”

  The kid giggled and took it. He held it close for a moment, but then his face fell. “My father says I’m too old for toys.”

  “Too old for toys?” Raina leaned close, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I still have my lion from when I was your age. He has one eye and no tail, but I love him just the same.”

  Chadil had to smile at that. He wasn’t sure he still had it, but his had been an elephant, big and gray and velvety with a bell around its neck.

  “You’re a girl, though,” said the boy. “It’s different for girls.” Still, he reached for the octopus and pulled it under the blankets.

  Chadil’s phone buzzed again. He scrolled through the alerts he’d missed while the director droned on, several trending hashtags and a message from Bas, wanting to know how Raina was settling in. She seemed fine, from where he stood. She had the kid laughing, though he sobered up soon enough.

  “They’re cutting me open,” he said. “First thing in the morning.”

  “You scared?”

  “No.” He stuck his chin out, defiant. “Maybe a little. I play football. I’m team captain. I keep asking when I can go back, but they just make this face.” He smiled, sick and saccharine. “It’s not fair. They keep saying, ‘Be brave,’ but they won’t tell the truth. They won’t even say if it’ll hurt.”

  Raina snagged his chart and looked it over, nodding as she did. “Well, you’re having a tendon repaired in your knee. You’ll be asleep for the surgery, so that part won’t hurt, but it’ll be sore afterward.” She set the chart aside and smiled. “It’ll get better, though. Do as your doctor tells you, and work hard at physical therapy, and you’ll be on your feet before you know it.”

  “And what about football?” The kid clenched his fists, scowling.

  “Not this season,” said Raina. She took his hand and patted it. “You’re looking at six months for your recovery, but maybe next year.”

  “Just maybe?” His voice trembled.

  “Everyone heals differently. I can’t make you any promises. But you’re young and you’re healthy, and you’re in one of the best hospitals in the world. I’m willing to bet you have lots of great seasons ahead of you.”

  The boy curled in on himself, hugging his octopus. Chadil thought he might cry, but he just sniffled a little.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Everyone kept telling me not to worry, but that’s all I could do, not knowing the truth. At least now I do.”

  Chadil cleared his throat. He hated to break up Raina’s moment, but they were running late. She turned to him, smiling, and he smiled back. He turned to the kid and lowered his head.

  “Do you mind if I steal your companion?”

  “I think you should ask her.”

  “Of course you can.” Raina got to her feet and joined him. She looked happy, and Chadil’s heart swelled. He felt light, heading out, buoyed up by her happiness.

  “You’re a great nurse,” he said, as they stepped out into the sunlight. “What you said before, about getting people through the worst days of their lives, I get that now.”

  “Yeah? Thanks. I—” A flashbulb went off, then another, and the press swarmed. Chadil shielded Raina, pulling her to his side as he guided her to the car. She laughed, high and breathless, as he helped her inside. Her hair was coming loose, a few flyaway strands about her ears. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling.

  “Really, thank you,” she said. “I was so nervous, but that couldn’t have gone better.” The light caught her earrings, and she was radiant, even more than she’d been at the palace. She glowed in her joy, and Chadil caught her by the arm.”

  “Hm?” She turned to face him, and before he could stop himself, he kissed her. Her lips were soft, her skin was warm, and her pulse raced as she leaned into him. He could feel her heart pounding, or maybe that was his own. Maybe this was a mistake—no, it absolutely was—but in the moment, it felt perfect, and so did she.

  7

  Raina zeroed in on the couch like a drunk staggering to bed. Her head hurt, her toes throbbed, and even her face felt frozen in a camera-ready smile. Their tour of the royal shipyards had started okay, but it had dragged on forever, one photo op after another, endless stops to meet this captain, that importer. If this was royal life, Raina wanted no part of it.

  “Over here,” said Chadil. He took her arm and steered her to the table. She made a small sound of protest, but a chair was a chair. She flopped down without ceremony, stretching her legs. Chadil was still talking, but Raina couldn’t focus. She covered her mouth just in time to catch a yawn.

  “Am I that boring?” Chadil’s lip twitched, and he laughed. Raina did too, and her tension ebbed away.

  “It’s not you,” she said. “It’s just...wow.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “That was a lot, you know? I’m used to long shifts, being on my feet, but I’ve never done it in heels. Or with someone taking my picture every five seconds.”

  “You’ll get used to it.” Chadil held up a carafe. “Coffee helps.”

  Raina frowned. She didn’t like the idea of getting used to being on display. Chadil had his public face; for him, wearing a mask was as easy as breathing, but that wasn’t for her. She felt dirty, but Chadil seemed energized, stirring his coffee with a smile.

  “What did you think of the port district?”

  “It was, uh...” The day swam before her eyes, cargo boats and pleasure crafts, cranes heaving shipping containers through the air. Cameras and more cameras, microphones in her face. “Big,” she said. “It was bigger than I remembered.”

  “We’ve made some expansions. In fact—” Chadil half-rose as the dinner service arrived. He waved them toward the patio. “Let’s eat outside,” he said. “The night air might refresh you.”

  Raina’s legs protested, but fresh air sounded good. And the patio was lovely, walled in on three sides and covered by a high canopy. Trailing ivy curtained off the garden, and a circle of low-slung couches sat around the dining table. A squat fireplace stood in one corner, bathing the enclosure in a flickering light.

  “Okay. This is pretty sweet.” Ra
ina sank into the cushions with a sigh. She kicked off her shoes and was surprised to hear two more clunks as Chadil did the same. The maids laid out their dinner, and Raina helped herself. Chadil watched her speculatively, head tilted to one side.

  “Would you object to some constructive criticism?”

  Raina made a face. Seriously? “I guess not.”

  “You did great today. Really. But I think you could relax more. There were times you seemed—” He made a humming sound. “You seemed a bit uptight. Like you were thinking too much. It’s easier if you relax, be yourself.”

  Raina covered a snort. “Be myself? Are you kidding me? Literally none of that was me, all that grinning, acting thrilled, when all I can think is, like...are they shooting up my nose? Will we be in tomorrow’s paper, and you’re all suave and perfect, and I’m this pair of nostrils?”

  “Nostrils?” Chadil looked bewildered. “Why would they print your nostrils?” He shook his head. “You could picture them as giant noses.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. They’re just noses on legs, waving cameras. Who could be scared of a giant nose?”

  “A nose?” Raina snorted laughter. “I get what you’re doing, but noses? Now I’ll be laughing the whole time, picturing this great herd of schnoz.”

  “But it’d be real laughter, right?” Chadil sobered up. “That’s all they’re looking for, a glimpse of you. Something they can take back to the people, show them someone they can relate to.” He reached for a vegetable fritter and took a bite, groaning as he did. “Mm. Perfection. You have to try one of these. They’re my mother’s recipe.”

  Raina glanced at his plate. “Is that eggplant?”

  “It is, spiced and marinated, charred in olive oil. Little bites of heaven.”

  She eyed the dish doubtfully. “I’ve never been a fan. It’s that texture, all mealy—”