The Sheikh’s Fake Engagement (The Blooming Desert Series Book 1) Read online

  “So,” Rafiq piped up. “Can Tali go to her show, then?” His little face shone with hope and excitement, and it melted Tali’s heart.

  “Yes,” Hamid said slowly. “And I’ll accompany her.” Nobody makes my son do anything he doesn’t want to do. Was this one of those things? Hamid smiled down at her, then looked around the room. “Looks like everyone’s gone home. Time for us to go, too.”

  “Dad, we are home,” said Rafiq.

  But when Hamid reached down and took Rafiq’s hand and then Tali’s, she wasn’t laughing. The three of them went out in a row. She didn’t miss the wink from Nenet, and Tali desperately wanted to take her aside. Is this what you meant? But then Hamid was holding her hand and taking her home, to her rooms. And he planned to go to her show. What? What? It was all so much.

  Then Hamid squeezed her hand, clearing her mind of all thoughts except yes. This felt right. No matter what it was later, in this moment, everything felt right.

  10

  The fashion show was held in a repurposed warehouse a few days later, and Hamid, to his surprise, didn’t hate it. The security concerns hadn’t been as much of an issue as he’d thought. They’d simply bolstered the staff and the check-in process, since members of the royal family would be there. Now, with five minutes to showtime, he stood on the sidelines watching for Tali. There were a lot of sidelines to stand on, this being a fashion show. The stage jutted out into rows of chairs packed in close so they all could get a good view of the models. The setup only took up a portion of the massive space, but this had the effect of drawing everyone’s eye right to that stage. The empty parts of the warehouse fell away into shadow, which was coincidentally where Hamid felt the most at ease.

  That was because he could not stop staring at Tali.

  She’d worn white to the show along with the rest of the people working there, and she was a vision. The dress was her usual flowing type, but the glittering white made her look queen-like in a way that stole his breath. Every time she stepped out from backstage, his attention zeroed in on her and he couldn’t look at anything else.

  And there was plenty to look at. Models hurried quickly backstage, and Tali kept bringing them out to test the lights and timing and watch them walk with the music. She outshone them all. Not to disparage her designs or the clothes—they were wonderful. But she was an angel.

  The last time she came out, Hamid followed her backstage, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Only he was a moth who knew what the flame could do to him.

  The backstage area was controlled chaos. Clothes came on and off and makeup artists moved in tight circles around models. It was not Hamid’s comfort zone. Fashion shows at the palace were when Nenet’s designer arrived with his models and they walked around in a stately, decorous fashion. Once or twice he’d accompanied his mother to the atelier in the fashion district. Those were one thing. But this? With people practicing backflips and a squad of what looked like robots doing formation dancing? Not what he’d been expecting. He went back out, where the noise was at least halved from the dressing area.

  “Excuse us.” Hamid looked down and—shock—it was Tali’s face. No, but close. Two young women stood close by, nervous smiles on their faces. “Your Highness? Is it you?”

  “It’s me. You must be Talitha’s sisters.”

  They tittered with excitement, making bobbing movements that hardly resembled a formal curtsey, and he greeted both of them with a restrained smile. “Rania and Mai. Did Tali make you come to this?”

  “I looked forward to supporting her.”

  “She’s doing so much,” said Rania. “She’s been running around for hours now. Will you stay for the actual show?”

  “Of course.” That made the girls laugh. He caught another flash of Talitha’s dress. She was much more creative than he’d given her credit for. Much more involved. The lights dimmed, and it was time for them to take their seats. Finally—something that was within the bounds of his experience. Though it hadn’t been so bad, had it? He’d chatted with Talitha’s sisters, which she’d be happy to hear about, and now they sat in the row behind him, leaning forward to ask him questions every so often.

  The show was loud and avant-garde, with plenty of flashing lights and flashier clothes. What was he doing? Clapping? When had he ever felt the need to clap at a fashion show? Hamid was a different person at this fashion show. He put his hands in his lap and tried not to burst with pride for Talitha. Her accessories were something else, each piece as unique as she was. He could tell them at a glance, to his surprise. Everyone else probably could, too. Oh, she was going to be in demand after this.

  Tali was the first to come out at the end of the models at the show, waving gratefully to the audience, followed by a woman in a striking red dress. Who was that? He didn’t see the designer anywhere. Tali had been talking about the designer, Roshin, for days. Shouldn’t he come out to receive the audience’s praise? When the last model had disappeared backstage, so did Tali, but after a few minutes she emerged with the woman in the red dress.

  “Your Highness,” Tali said with a twinkle in her eye. “This is my friend, Roshin Gauhar. She’s the designer and my best friend in the city.”

  Roshin. A unisex name. Relief very nearly took him out at the knees, but he remained standing and greeted Roshin with what he hoped came off as kingly grace. He’d been so jealous. Roshin this, Roshin that, and Roshin turned out to be a woman. Her close friend.

  “Didn’t you think the menswear was a revelation?” Tali prompted.

  “Like nothing I’ve ever seen,” Hamid agreed.

  “You must see it up close,” insisted Roshin. “Some of the pieces would look incredible with your coloring.”

  “Yes,” gasped Tali, and the two of them flanked him and took him to the back and a long rack of menswear in intense colors like teal and ochre.

  “Now, some of the clothes are still on models,” said Roshin. “And you’ll have to excuse the buyers.” They reminded him uncomfortably of the paparazzi, leaning in close, not seeming to realize who they were leaning on. Hamid looked dutifully at the rack of clothes and the next thing he knew, Tali was pushing him into a dressing room with a pair of midnight-blue denim jeans and a Henley-type shirt. Nothing he’d ever wear, and they probably wouldn’t even fit, but he put the clothes on anyway. What was happening? He hadn’t come here to be a fashion show. The jeans were form-fitting and skimmed his legs not at all the same way his suit trousers did. The feel of the fabric against the entire length of his legs would take some getting used to. Not that he’d ever really wear these clothes enough to get used to them. The shirt’s slim shaping and drape accentuated his abs. It would never do in public.

  Under the clothing, he found a bracelet of multiple braided leather cords, braided together in turn, with semi-precious stones—lapis, garnet, and jasper—spaced out along its length. The pops of color against the deep brown leather told him Tali had designed it. He fastened it around his wrist.

  He stepped back out of the dressing room and stopped dead at the look on Tali’s face.

  Her lips, slightly parted. Her eyes, wide and dark. Her cheeks, pink. She closed her mouth and her lips turned up in a luscious smile. He had never wanted to kiss her so badly. “I want the clothes,” he said.

  Tali wordlessly held up another shirt in eggplant, similar to the one he was wearing.

  “That, too.” Hamid ducked back into the dressing room to change into his own suit, his heart racing. If the clothes made her that happy, he’d wear them. And he had plenty of time to wear them before she left. It was all temporary, of course—Tali, the clothes. He couldn’t get attached. But he could enjoy the time they had left.

  He left the bracelet on.

  Tali felt like a human sparkler, energy running up and down her veins. The show had been a hit. A total success. Roshin was beside herself with the pleasure of selling so many of her pieces at once, with future orders already coming in from the buyers. They all wanted to work with he
r, and with Tali, too. This was the best high she could hope for. A sheer joy.

  She didn’t want it to end.

  The black SUV pulled up at the private entrance to the palace, and Tali thought briefly of hitting the locks on the doors. Let’s keep driving, she’d say. But where would they go? It didn’t matter. She just didn’t want the night to end.

  But there was Hamid, coming around to open her door himself. He offered his hand, a gorgeous figure in the moonlight, and she stepped from the car feeling like she’d missed a grand opportunity. Remember this next time. Remember how good it felt. Keep hold of that feeling.

  “Well,” she said as they walked slowly toward the entrance, guards waiting at the doors. “I have some stuff to do.” Like put her feet up and maybe make a few sketches to keep herself excited for future shows. If she lost herself in the work, maybe she could take her mind off how delectable he’d looked in the casual outfit he’d tried on.

  Hamid’s steps slowed. “Yes, we should end the evening here,” he agreed. “After all, the arrangement was that I would take you to the show. And now I’ve brought you home again.”

  She gave him a grin and a nod and stepped away, ready to go in ahead of him and slip silently through the halls to her own room, but he caught her hand.

  “On the other hand, we haven’t eaten.” Her body thrilled at the low smoothness of his voice and the sly, proud look in his eyes. “I need to ensure you get supper, and the roof is an ideal picnic spot.”

  Her cheeks heated. “Oh? Is it?”

  “Yes. I used to sneak up there when I was younger.” Hamid took her other hand, his touch light but powerful. The bracelet she’d designed with him in mind glinted on his wrist. The night air smelled so sweet, and the spicy undertone of his cologne added intrigue.

  “Why would you do that?” It was tough, looking at Hamid. It made the rest of the world outside their immediate vicinity fall away. That kind of focus could make a girl do silly things.

  “To daydream,” Hamid said, a poignant nostalgia in his voice.

  “I still do that,” she confessed, and his eyebrows went up at her admission. “I daydream all the time. And I adore the view.” She was talking about the views from high places in the city, but it was very possible she was talking about something else, too. Someone else. “I’d love to share that with you.”

  “And I’d love to share supper with you.” He gave her hands a light squeeze and dropped them, and then he leaned in to brush a kiss against her cheek. The sensation lit her up all the way to the tips of her toes. “I won’t be long.”

  Hamid turned to go, silhouetted in the light coming from the palace doors.

  Tali would follow him. She would. She just needed a minute. A minute to breathe in a full breath and center herself. “It’s a date,” she whispered.

  11

  Hamid took the fastest shower of his life, changed his clothes, and headed for the garden. The staircase to the rooftop over the guest wing of the palace was there, and he needed a few deep breaths of fragrant air to calm his speeding heart. He was almost to the foot of the stairs when a guard slipped out of the shadows in the garden and came to his side.

  “Miss Talitha is waiting on the rooftop,” he said. “All is well around the palace.”

  Good. That meant that barring some sort of emergency they’d be left alone.

  Hamid climbed up the steps, the scene slowly coming into view—first the pillars on the wall, then the top of her head, and then her easel. Tali stood at the rooftop’s wall, sketching by moonlight. A smile gentled the curve of her mouth.

  “Your people work fast, Your Highness,” she said softly.

  They’d already set up a table for two, and it was obvious Talitha had added her own touches—bold-patterned cloth draped over both chairs was made shadowy and complex by the moonlight. Low candles guttered in their holders at the middle of the table. The dishes waited, silver covers gleaming. But he didn’t care much about the food. He cared about her. The easel was so Talitha—the fact that she’d brought it up here late at night made him feel like she was calling to him with all her unique ways. He stepped behind her and the two of them looked down at the drawing.

  The city had come to life on the paper, with its domes and skyline and the patterns of shadow and light in the palace gardens below it all. It struck him, moved him, made his heart ache with nostalgia for a city that was right in front of him. Not Talitha’s normal exuberant colors, but still—he wanted to look at this every day. He wanted to look at her, too.

  Hamid dropped a kiss to the back of her neck below her hair. “We should eat before the food gets cold,” he murmured, though he could think of a hundred more forbidden things he’d like to do. But he wouldn’t. He’d asked her to dinner.

  Talitha’s face glowed in the candlelight while the two of them uncovered dishes of rice and a chicken dripping with sauce so rich it melted in Hamid’s mouth.

  “Did you know?” she said, about five minutes into the meal. “You’re sitting on a treasure trove of antiques.”

  “That’s part of being in the royal family,” he answered. “Guarding its treasures.”

  “Have you ever thought about not guarding them?” Talitha raised one eyebrow.

  Hamid laughed. “No. I’ll always protect my country’s assets. Why would I not guard them?”

  “Because people should see them.” She told him about going to the sewing room with Rafiq and seeing all those wall hangings and costumes. “What’s the use in safeguarding all of it if the people can’t see what wonderful things you have hidden behind these walls?”

  The thought of letting the public near the crown’s carefully maintained and protected treasures made nervousness gather in the pit of Hamid’s gut. “It would put those things at risk.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. More public investment might mean even better safekeeping. And it might mean more revenue for the crown.” Talitha looked at Hamid coyly, and of course, she could very well be right. He’d known she was creative and artistic, but she layered it with being resourceful and practical and smart, too. Her father had done her a disservice by keeping her in the back room of his shop.

  “Perhaps.” He lifted a plate of olives and offered them to her across the table. She took an olive without looking at them, because her eyes stayed on his, their fingers brushing, and that light touch sent a charge through him. A delicious, almost electric charge. The plate hit the table harder than he’d intended. “Stuffed grape leaf?”

  “Please.” Talitha finished arranging the olives on her plate and held out a hand for the plate of stuffed grape leaves, but Hamid already had one between his fingers. He brought it to her mouth, and she opened for him without hesitation. Oh, god. It made him hard, made his whole body tight with anticipation. Talitha bit into the stuffed grape leaf, her eyes fluttering closed. “Those are so good. I’ll have to borrow the recipe from the chef.”

  “I’ll never let you have it. It’s a secret,” he joked, and popped the rest of the packet into his own mouth. The filling crept out the corner of his lips, and he brushed it away with one knuckle, then stuck it in his mouth to suck it away. A low laugh bubbled out of him.

  Talitha opened her eyes at the sound and took in the scene. “I know what you’re thinking.” Of you. “If your councilors could see you now, like this...”

  Another huff of a laugh, soft and intimate. “I’m never relaxed like this with them. Or with anyone else.”

  “Never yourself,” Talitha whispered. An odd pain clenched at his heart. He’d never put much stock in being himself—that wasn’t his highest duty as king. But a real empathy shone in her eyes. “What do you think you’d have been like if you hadn’t had to take the throne so young and work so hard to live up to the country’s expectations?”

  “I don’t know,” Hamid admitted. “What about you? What would you do if you didn’t have your obligations? Your art, I suppose, and your family?”

  Talitha smiled. “I’d make other art. In
another place.”

  “How did you come to be so interested in it?” It seemed like a part of her soul as much as the crown was part of his.

  “I watched my father work.” Talitha folded her hands underneath her chin and her eyes flicked down to her plate, then back up to Hamid’s. “The way he handled the precious gems and metals, making them into something new. Eventually, I knew I had to strike out with my own designs. And you learned how to be king from watching your father, I assume. Do you have other passions? Other hobbies?” Her eyes reflected the moonlight back at him, tiny crescents in her pupils.

  It had been a long time since Hamid thought of anything other than his routine as king. “I like sports. I like exercise, though it’s been years since I did that outside of my regular workouts in the palace gym.”

  “Mmm.” Talitha worried at her lip with her tongue. “I have to say, I appreciate the regular workouts in the gym.” Bold of her. “But why not schedule something you really want to do?”

  “Like fly,” Hamid said, not realizing the truth of it until the words were out of his mouth.

  “You want to fly on a plane?” Her eyebrows had shot up. “Surely you’ve flown on planes. You’re the king!”

  “I mean really fly. Like a bird.” Hamid’s face heated. What a childish wish. Keep talking, don’t let it linger in the air. “And I can’t draw. At all.” He didn’t particularly like admitting that he had no skill in an area. In fact, he hated it. It was worse than admitting he wanted to fly. A sudden emptiness in his chest made him want to get out of the conversation as quickly as possible.

  But Talitha looked incandescent with excitement. “I can teach you to draw.” Her enthusiasm even seemed to brighten the candles. “If I can teach your son how to swim, then I can give you sketching lessons. Come to my easel.”