Bought And Paid For: The Tycoon's Sheikha Bride
Holly Rayner
Bought And Paid For: The Tycoon’s Sheikha Bride
Holly Rayner
Lara Hunter
Contents
Holly Rayner & Lara Hunter
Bought And Paid For: The Tycoon’s Sheikha Bride
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Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Holly Rayner
The Sheikh’s Tempted Prisoner
Introduction
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Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Also by Holly Rayner
Bought And Paid For: The Tycoon’s Sheikha Bride
Holly Rayner & Lara Hunter
Copyright 2017 by Holly Rayner and Lara Hunter
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.
All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.
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Chapter One
“My, don’t you look lovely.”
Jasmina dabbed the corner of her eye, where a black splotch stained her pristine handkerchief. When she looked in the mirror, an ancient pair of eyes locked onto her own.
“Thanks, Asha,” she said, her voice dull.
“I know that doesn’t really matter today, but it is the truth. Your father was always a believer in telling the truth.”
“Yes,” Jasmina sighed. “He most certainly was.”
She stood still, her eyes combing over the black dress and veil she had chosen for her father’s funeral. Just two weeks before that moment, she had almost allowed herself to believe that she could be considered normal. The last conversation she had had with her father forced its way back to the front of her mind, torturing her once again.
“I don’t understand why you can’t just go to university here in El Jayiah,” the Sheikh said, nearly stamping his foot in frustration.
Jasmina stood her ground, refusing to give in. She had made up her mind, and she knew what she had to do.
“Papa, I want to see the world. If I am to take over from you one day, don’t you think I should see how others live their lives, how we can find unity through our diverse human existence?”
“Don’t use flowery words with me, Jasmina. You are the future Sheikha of El Jayiah. Don’t you think it’s important that you get an education here, among your own people? You know, the ones you will be ruling over?”
Jasmina sighed. She knew in that moment that her father would never accept her decision, and that she in turn would never accept his desire to control her actions. She took a step back, a symbolic gesture as much as a physical one.
“I am going to school in America, Papa. I’m sorry you don’t agree with it. I know you have the power to cut off my funds if you want, but I don’t believe you will. I want to see what life is like somewhere else before I devote my life to our people. I want to come in with a more global perspective. Can you not, as leader of this nation, at least try and see the logic in that?”
Her father’s eyes were heavy as he stared at her in silence. In that moment he looked so much older, his hair grayer, his wrinkles more pronounced. When had her father aged so quickly?
“You are exactly like your mother,” he said finally, though his frown stayed firmly in place. “She would have given you her blessing.”
Jasmina stepped forward then, wrapping her youthful hands around her father’s, her eyes beseeching as she gazed up into his beloved face.
“Then why won’t you?”
The Sheikh’s eyes were tinged with red, as though he had held back a lifetime of tears for the good of his nation. He was a kind and benevolent ruler, and Jasmina had long admired him in so many ways. His shoulders sagged, and while Jasmina knew she had won, it didn’t feel like much of a victory in that moment.
“I’ve never told you the story about how your mother died,” he said, and Jasmina stood back, aghast.
He had never brought up her mother’s death, ever. She had gleaned bits and pieces from the kitchen staff as a child, but Jasmina had never really known how her mother had met her untimely fate, just months after she was born. The Sheikh sat on a nearby chaise, patting the spot next to him, and Jasmina obediently took a seat beside him.
“Your mother was an adventurer, always looking toward the horizon. Before we met, she had visited almost every country in the world. It was part of what attracted me to her in the first place—she was so exotic and daring. She was unlike anyone I ever met.”
He opened his palm, and Jasmina placed her hand into his, squeezing tight. She couldn’t tell if she wanted him to stop his story or continue. She knew how it ended, after all. She’d been motherless her entire life.
“About six months after you were born, she became so restless,” the Sheikh continued. “She felt as though she needed to find herself again, if only for a moment. She traveled to Gabon, taking a week-long safari trip while Asha looked after you, and I was dealing with a particularly tricky military situation along the southern border. As soon as she came back, I could tell something was wrong.”
He lowered his head, and Jasmina stared out into space, trying to imagine the face she had seen in a million photographs leaving her behind to go on an adventure.
“The illness spread quickly. There was nothing the doctors could do—they’d never seen anything like it before. Two days after she returned, she was gone, and you and I were left here, alone.”
He looked up then, searching his daughter’s eyes for a hint of understanding.
“So you see now why letting you go will be one of the hardest things I have to do. When she left, I never saw her again. Not the way she was before. If anything were to happen to you Jasmina, I don’t know what I would do.”
Jasmina squeezed his hand again.
“Papa, I am not my mother. Not everyone who leaves this place will come back broken. I promise you I will return better than I am now, and I will even bring you presents.”
She grinned, hoping that she would lighten his mood. When he continued to glower, her small smile faded.
“One has to make sacrifices as a royal, Jasmina. You have a duty to your people. If you do not honor duty, you will never have their respect.”
“And that duty means that I must never leave?”
“I’m not saying that…”
“I think that’s exactly what you’re saying,” Jasmina said, releasing his hand and rising.
“You have kept me here all these years because you were scared that I would meet the same fate as my mother. What you don’t underst
and is that I have my own life to lead. I am not her. When I come back, you will understand that.”
“Why do you think I never remarried?”
It was an unexpected question, and Jasmina stepped a little closer toward the door. They had already covered ground she did not want to think about that day. Why would her father’s love life come up in this conversation at all?
“Because you never found the right person?” Jasmina hedged, and the Sheikh shook his head.
“I never remarried because I never wanted to pitch another heir to fight with you for the throne. I wanted it to be yours and yours alone. Another woman would have wanted a child, and I refused. I gave that up because I believe that duty to our country comes first. Now what do you have to say?”
“You’re trying to make me guilty for decisions that you made, and I won’t be manipulated in such a way. You could have remarried, and I would have been fine either way. I am allowed to leave this country, and I will be fine. I do not wish to quarrel with you any longer. I leave for the States in the morning, and I wanted to give you a nice farewell before I do. Will you give me that?”
The Sheikh turned away from her, and Jasmina’s heart broke into a thousand pieces.
“You disappoint me, Jasmina. I thought you were ready to rule this nation when I am gone. Clearly I am wrong.”
The room filled with loaded silence as Jasmina fought back a rush of tears at his words. Swallowing them, she took a breath.
“I guess that’s that, then. Perhaps I will show you just what kind of leader I can be when I return.”
The Sheikh said nothing, his back still turned.
“Goodbye, Papa.”
With that, Jasmina turned and walked out of the room. True to her word, she left for college the very next morning, flying halfway across the world to New York to attend school. She never told anyone there about her status, wanting to be treated like everyone else.
Her whole world had opened up at college, just as she’d imagined it would, and she experienced four of the best years of her life. She’d written to her father often, and from time to time she would get a curt response. She comforted herself by thinking that she would prove to him that she would be a great Sheikha one day—an even better one for living abroad and seeing the world with new eyes.
Then the phone rang in the middle of that terrible night.
“Jasmina?”
Her father’s most trusted advisor, Javir, sounded shaken and frightened. Jasmina bolted upright in her bed, her dark eyes filled with fear.
“What is it, Javir? Why are you calling?”
There was a heavy pause before he broke the news.
“It’s your father. He’s had a heart attack and is in critical condition. We need you to return to El Jayiah immediately. There might not be much time.”
Jasmina’s heart fluttered, her stomach twisting into knots as she pulled back her comforter and began to get dressed.
“I’ll be on the next plane.”
“Thank you, Jasmina. I hope…” he choked on his sentence, and Jasmina moved faster.
“I’ll be there soon. Please…tell my father to hold on.”
She tossed a few items into a small suitcase, hesitating for a moment as she stared at her petition to graduate.
She was only a month shy of earning her degree, with high honors. Jasmina’s face crunched with emotion as she turned away from her school books, knowing she would not be graduating if her father needed her to stay. The flight back to El Jayiah was one of the longest of her life, her nails chewed down to the cuticles, the jagged edges bleeding by the time the plane touched down in her tiny homeland.
When Jasmina stepped onto the tarmac, there was a small gathering of men in black suits waiting for her in front of a black car. The sky was inky black, which was fitting, as Jasmina stared into somber faces—eyes that refused to quite meet her gaze.
Javir stepped forward with clasped hands.
“Your Highness,” he said, bowing before her.
She stared in shock as all of the men around him followed suit, bowing before her.
“Javir…” she said, barely trusting the sound of her voice.
When he looked back up, she saw true sorrow in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. You are too late. The Sheikh has passed away. You are the new ruler of El Jayiah.”
A sob tore from Jasmina’s throat as she collapsed on the ground, weeping in agony. She had told her father that she would come back and prove to him that she could be so much more than he imagined. He wasn’t supposed to die before she could get back! What was she going to do?
Painful memories rushed through her head as Asha gently shook her back to the horrible, surreal present.
“It’s time, my love. The procession will begin in a few moments.”
Jasmina met her gaze in the mirror again, and she steeled herself for what was to come.
Duty to our country comes first.
That was what he had said.
Jasmina hoped that she would make him proud on such a terrible day.
Chapter Two
The streets of the capital were eerily silent as Jasmina led the procession behind her father’s casket. Behind her veil she knew she could cry unseen, but she refused to allow herself to. The weight of El Jayiah rested on her shoulders, and she marched in stoic silence as sniffles from either side of her met her ears.
The ceremony was a blur, ending with her father being laid to rest in the family plot at the top of the hill overlooking the capital, Tyra. Jasmina stared down at the masses of people dressed in black, mourning her father. She had known since his death that she was the ruling monarch of her nation, but until she gazed down upon them, every face turned up in her direction, it really hadn’t hit home.
Now she felt completely, utterly alone.
“Your Highness, you will want to take some time to grieve before managing affairs of the state I imagine,” Javir was at her side, his hand gently guiding her toward a car.
Feeling numb, Jasmina nodded, not willing to take on her father’s role so soon after laying him to rest. She allowed herself to be led to the back of a car. The door closed her in, the silence resonating across her entire world.
She was convinced that she would never know joy again. And the last conversation she had had with her father was one filled with disdain and sorrow. She would never forgive herself for leaving El Jayiah as long as she lived.
The car drove stealthily along the empty roads, the city of Tyra unusually silent for a Sunday evening. When the car pulled up to the palace, Jasmina waited for her door to be opened. When it was, she stepped out, thanking the driver absently before stepping up gold-laced stairs. The doors opened for her as she walked through, unable to think of anything but her own bed.
Asha entered the hallway as she strode onward, absently removing her black veil for her, releasing a cascade of brown tresses. Her head ached. Her heart ached. Her whole world was filled with the black of night.
“Come, my dear. You need to eat.”
Jasmina shook her head.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You will need your strength for the obstacles that lie ahead.”
She froze, then, mulling over Asha’s words. She turned and looked down into the old woman’s kind eyes.
“I will find my own strength. You can trust in that. Good night, Asha.”
When Jasmina closed the door behind her, she finally allowed her tears to flow freely as she crumpled into a ball on the ground. For the rest of the night she cried the last tears she would allow. After that, her country would need her to stand up and take her father’s place as their ruler.
Strength was one thing she hardly believed she had.
“Presenting upon you this day, the royal crown of El Jayiah. May our Sheikha live a long and glorious life, and may she rule with the justice of her ancestors. I now present to you, Jasmina Bel Hasnawi, Sheikha of El Jayiah!”
Cheers roared in her
ears as Jasmina faced her people, her smile tempered by the fact that she would not be in that position had her father not died so unexpectedly, so suddenly. Her people didn’t seem to share her grief as they continued to cheer and chant her name. Feeling a small boost of confidence from their support, she raised a hand and was rewarded with more cheering.
“Your Highness, might we adjourn to the cabinet chambers to discuss the state of our nation?”
An older, balding man bowed slightly to Jasmina, and she realized that she had completely forgotten his name. She hoped there would be name plates on the table when they met, so she wouldn’t be caught paying zero attention to her country while she was away. She hadn’t planned on being the ruler of El Jayiah for many more years, and she hadn’t devoted much time to learning about her father’s latest slew of advisors.
That was clearly her first mistake. Likely one of many.
She wondered in that moment how her friends at school were faring with finals approaching. To think that her biggest problem only a few weeks before had been how to get the best grade on a test. Life had been so much simpler then.
Nodding to the thin-haired man, Jasmina followed after him down the palace hallway, passing door after door until they reached the one Jasmina had rarely bothered to enter.
Opening the portal, the balding man stepped inside, walking toward a round, wooden table. When he reached a seat, Jasmina took a look and felt a rush of relief when she saw name plates. His name was Kalim Al-Adir. She would have to remember that, along with the others. There was so much she would have to remember.
I wish you were here, Papa, she thought desperately.
Squaring her shoulders, she stepped forward in her coronation gown and took a seat at the table. She was met with a grouping of gloomy gazes. Attempting charm, she parted her lips in a gracious smile.
“Gentlemen. I’ve never seen a more melancholy group. Surely the state of affairs must not be that terrible? My father was exceptional at economics, and he was quite the statesman.”
