The Sheikh's Stolen Lover - A Second Chance Sweet Romance (The Sheikh's New Bride Book 5)
Holly Rayner
Table of Contents
Prologue
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
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
The Sheikh’s Stolen Lover
Holly Rayner
Contents
The Sheikh’s Stolen Lover
Prologue
1. Ellie
2. Ellie
3. Mahmoud
4. Ellie
5. Ellie
6. Ellie
7. Mahmoud
8. Ellie
9. Mahmoud
10. Ellie
11. Ellie
12. Mahmoud
13. Mahmoud
14. Ellie
15. Ellie
16. Mahmoud
17. Ellie
18. Ellie
19. Mahmoud
20. Ellie
21. Mahmoud
22. Ellie
23. Mahmoud
24. Ellie
25. Mahmoud
26. Ellie
27. Mahmoud
28. Ellie
29. Mahmoud
30. Ellie
31. Ellie
32. Ellie
33. Mahmoud
34. Mahmoud
35. Ellie
36. Mahmoud
37. Ellie
38. Ellie
39. Ellie
40. Ellie
41. Ellie
42. Ellie
Epilogue
The Sheikh’s Priceless Bride
Introduction
Prologue
1. Khizar
2. Jacqui
3. Khizar
4. Jacqui
5. Khizar
6. Jacqui
7. Jacqui
8. Jacqui
9. Khizar
More Series by Holly Rayner
The Sheikh’s Stolen Lover
Copyright 2018 by Holly Rayner
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.
Prologue
2012: Palo Alto, California
The music at this party sucks, Ellie thought, sipping her vodka cranberry and scanning the room. If she could figure out where the DJ was, she’d stage an intervention. The same terrible song by the same terrible child-star-turned-pop-singer had come on at least three times now. That was too much airtime in one night, even for a good song.
The party didn’t have much else going for it, either.
The night had begun with such promise—Ellie’s parents had treated her and her two best friends, Lia and Claire, to dinner at their favorite restaurant near the Stanford campus. Over a couple of bottles of wine, the girls had reminisced about their favorite college memories. Ellie’s dad had gotten emotional and told the story of the day he’d moved her in to her freshman-year dorm, how proud he was to be dropping her off at such a prestigious school, but how sad he’d been to leave his “little princess.” Ellie had groaned—as a feminist, she’d always insisted to her father that she wasn’t a princess, she was a scientist—but she still thought the endearment was sweet.
After dinner, they’d dropped Lia back off at the dorm. She was planning to pack and get on the road that night, since her boyfriend lived in Santa Rosa. Claire and Ellie, on the other hand, weren’t leaving Palo Alto until tomorrow. Tonight was the last hurrah, and the entire computer science graduating class was gathering at the Red Rooster for drinks and dancing until dawn.
At least, that had been the plan.
Then Neil had appeared.
At times, Ellie found herself incapable of saying Neil’s name without rolling her eyes. He was a year younger than they were and majoring in philosophy. He had, as she’d reminded Claire on countless occasions, no life plan. He had a B average and a vintage game system which he played constantly, even when he had guests over. Ellie had once spent three agonizing hours sitting on his bed with Claire, watching him try over and over to defeat an end boss. Each time she’d tried to leave, Claire had pulled her back, insisting that she make her exit at the perfect moment to imply to Neil that Claire wanted to be left alone with him.
Claire’s lucky I like her so much, Ellie thought, somewhat bitterly.
Remembering that night intensified the sting of the fact that Claire had ditched out on their last night together to go roll around with Neil somewhere. At least after tonight they could wash their hands of him…but would Ellie’s friendship with Claire stand the test of time and distance? Certainly none of her high school friendships had. Would this be any different?
At any rate, it was frustrating to be alone at this party, without either of her close friends.
Maybe I’ll just go home.
Her room was mostly packed up, but there was still the TV and a carton of mint-chip ice cream in the dorm freezer. There was bound to be some late-night reality TV rerun to watch. An inauspicious way to end her college career, but could it really be worse than standing around at the Red Rooster, alone?
Maybe she’d have one more drink before she left.
Ellie took her empty glass back up to the bar. The bartender spotted her and came over. “Same again?”
She was about to agree, but stopped herself suddenly. This was a celebration, wasn’t it? She’d graduated. She deserved a little party. Even though her friends had abandoned her (this time with less vitriol in her thoughts, she was pleased to realize), she ought to cut loose and enjoy herself a little bit.
“Champagne,” she heard herself say. “Something really good. I’m celebrating.”
The bartender laughed. “You and half the establishment, kid.”
“Well,” she said, “I’m celebrating in style.”
“Fair enough.” He brought a bottle out from below the bar. Ellie noticed little beads of c
ondensation just starting to form on it. The cork hadn’t yet been popped. “I stock a few of these around the graduation season, just in case. But most of your cohorts out there still want to drink vodka tonics or slippery nipples.”
“What’s a slippery nipple?”
“Hon, if you’ve made it all the way through college without finding out, just count that as a win and let it go.” The bartender poured out the champagne and passed it over. “On the house, all right?”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t—”
“I insist. Honestly, it’s a relief to serve someone who doesn’t look like they’re about to puke all over the sidewalk. You have a good night, all right? Congratulations.”
Ellie thanked him profusely and accepted the glass. It was wonderful, cold and tangy. If only she had someone to share it with, to toast four years of hard work and accomplishment, the moment would be complete.
Once again, she felt the resentment boiling up. Couldn’t Lia have stayed one more night, just to say goodbye to their time together? Couldn’t Claire have prioritized their friendship of four years over stupid Neil?
The walls of the Rooster were lined with tiny, chairless tables, appropriate for standing and resting your drink on while you played the wallflower.
Still rankling at being relegated to the role of outsider on her last night of college, wishing she were the sort of girl who had the courage to rush the dance floor and join the mass of writhing bodies enjoying the music and wishing each other farewell, Ellie rested her drink on a table. She glanced around at the crowd, hoping to spot someone she knew, but there was no one. Some celebration this is turning out to be. Maybe this was what she got for letting herself devote the majority of her energy to two friendships throughout college. But Ellie had never been the sort to run with a crowd. Two best friends had been just perfect for her…until they were gone.
Sighing, she reached for her drink, but someone’s hand was already there.
Her gaze darted down, then up again. The hand on her champagne flute was attached to a lean, muscular arm, bare to the bicep. The owner of the arm had a light dusting of facial hair, neatly trimmed, and thick eyebrows. He also had the biggest, most gorgeous eyes she had ever seen.
After a moment, she realized she was staring, but wouldn’t it be stranger to look away? She felt short of breath. Had the champagne gone to her head?
“I apologize,” the man said, smiling just slightly. “I mistook your glass for my own.” He had the barest hint of an accent. Something Middle Eastern, she guessed. Something unfamiliar.
Something exciting.
It had been too long since anyone had spoken. He was looking at her curiously, like maybe she hadn’t heard him. “Oh,” she said quickly, eager to dispel any doubts. “It’s okay. I mean, um, you can have it.”
Ellie groaned internally. Why did she have to be so awkward?
The man laughed easily. “No, no. I have my own.” He picked it up from an adjacent table. “I forgot where I put it is all.”
God, his eyelashes were longer than hers were. She had to stop staring.
She took a sip of her drink and forced herself to look around the room again, but he didn’t move and she was acutely aware of the nearness of his arm. After a moment, she looked back at him. He was smiling.
“My name is Bahir,” he said.
“I’m Ellie.” She returned his handshake automatically.
Bahir. She pronounced the unfamiliar name over and over in her mind, getting the feel of it, making sure that she wouldn’t forget it or say it incorrectly. She didn’t want to offend.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ellie,” Bahir said. She was struck by how formal his tone was, but the formality was offset by a twinkle in his eye. It was almost as if he was laughing at his own pretension.
“You’re not a comp sci major, are you?” she asked. “I don’t remember seeing you in any of my classes.” And I would have remembered. His cheekbones looked as if they could cut glass, and his smile was mesmerizing.
“Business,” Bahir said simply.
“What brings you to our party?”
“I came with a friend. But he’s gone now.”
“Gone? Where?”
He shrugged mildly. “With a girl. What else?”
“Your friend dragged you to a comp sci party and then left you to be with a girl?”
“Inconsiderate of him, but I suppose he wasn’t to be blamed. He’s had feelings for her for years.” He frowned. “Why are you laughing?”
“No, no, I’m sorry. It really isn’t. It’s just that the same thing happened to me tonight,” Ellie explained. “I was here with my best friend, and she left with a guy.”
“Really?” His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Isn’t that something! I wonder…is it possible they could have left with each other?”
Ellie laughed again. “No, I don’t think so. My friend’s guy is only a junior, and he’s definitely not a comp sci major.”
“Ah.”
“Still. Weird coincidence!”
Bahir lifted his glass. “To unexpected connections?”
She clinked her glass against his and drained it. “You know what, Bahir?”
“What, Ellie?”
“We don’t need them. You and I could be each other’s dates!”
He gazed at her thoughtfully. “What did you have in mind? I do leave campus in the morning.”
“Oh, so do I,” she hastened to assure him. “I’m talking about a strictly one-night thing. I mean…shoot. Not a one-night thing. I mean, a date for just tonight. I mean, while we’re here at the Red Rooster… Oh, crap,” she finished. “You’re laughing at me.”
“I’m laughing near you. You’re very funny, you know.”
“Am I?”
Ellie was pleased. Claire had always told her she was no fun, and Lia liked to complain that she didn’t take her schoolwork seriously enough. No one had ever told Ellie she was funny. She liked the idea of it. She also liked the way Bahir’s face lit up when he laughed. She wanted to make him laugh more.
The music changed mid-song. The pop starlet was cut off, replaced by an irresistible eighties groove. Ellie groaned in relief.
“Oh thank God, someone found the good music. Dance with me, Bahir. Do you know how to dance?”
He smiled. “As it happens, I do.”
And with that, he took her hand and led her to the floor.
Five songs later, they were still going strong. The music had stayed consistently good, but now the DJ switched to a slow song. Bahir swept Ellie into his arms. He was a masterful dancer, leading her through the steps so easily that she didn’t even have to think. He spun her away from him and pulled her back, catching her against his chest. She felt short of breath.
“Have you had a good Stanford experience?” he asked. He was a full head taller than her, and she could feel the heat of his breath in her hair as he spoke.
“Mmm… Memorable.”
“What will you remember?”
“My friends,” she said, surprised at her own willingness to open up to him. Ordinarily, Ellie was polite but reserved. The champagne must have loosened her inhibitions. She was on her third glass now and was losing track of who was paying for them. Had the bartender handed them all out free of charge? That couldn’t be, could it? “We were roommates together Freshman year, and they’re the best friends I’ve ever had.”
“Do you think you’ll stay in touch?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Do people stay in touch after college? I’d like to.” She looked up at him. “Will you keep in contact with your friends?”
“Unlikely,” he said, with the air of an admission. “I’m sure we’ll all be caught up in whatever comes next for us.”
“What comes next for you?” she asked, feeling bold. Definitely the champagne.
“Hard to say,” he said, vaguely. “Your glass is empty.”
So it was. She twirled it in her fingertips and laughed as a few stray droplets spilled out
onto the floor.
Bahir eased it out of her grip and danced them toward a table. “Would you like another?”
“Why not?”
They made their way through the crowd together. There was a cluster of people at the bar, but Bahir flagged down the bartender with the airy confidence of someone who expected to be served. “More champagne, please. Leave us the bottle.” He slid a bill across the counter. Ellie stared. So he’d been buying the drinks.
The bartender set two fresh glasses and a newly uncorked bottle before them. Bahir poured. “What’s next for you?” he asked, lifting his glass.
“Silicon Valley, probably. That’s the dream.”
“That’s what you wanted to do when you were little? Design computer software?”
“Ever since I was old enough to understand what computers were, yeah. I like the idea of getting them to do whatever you want just by writing lines of code.” She took a sip. This champagne was different from the last glass, and Ellie found herself wishing she were enough of a connoisseur to know what the varying tastes meant. “It’s kind of like a superpower.”
Bahir laughed. Something about the combination of his smile and the drink made her feel warm inside. “That’s not a very exciting superpower, is it?”
“Clearly you’ve never written code!”
“Well, I confess I haven’t,” he agreed. “Maybe I’ll have to try it sometime.”
“Too bad tonight’s our last night here. I could show you.”
“Too bad indeed…”
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” she said. “That we’ve never met, I mean.”
“I don’t know,” Bahir said. “It’s a big school.”
“Still. Four years is a long time. And I think I’d have remembered you, even if we’d just seen each other in passing.”
He nodded slowly. “I definitely would have remembered you, Ellie.”
Later, she wouldn’t remember the exact moment his lips found hers. She was aware of someone out on the dance floor yelling about how it was midnight, how they were officially graduates, and finding it funny that anyone would choose to mark the occasion at such a random time—she’d graduated when she’d completed her last class, surely, or when she’d accepted her diploma?—but then Bahir had pulled her close and slipped one hand up into her hair, and all she could think was how surprisingly strong he was and how she could taste the champagne on his tongue, and how in four years at Stanford, she had never been kissed at a bar or a party like this, never by someone she’d only met an hour before, and why couldn’t she have come across Bahir even a few weeks earlier?
