Page 48 of The Sheikh's Million Dollar Bride

How utterly surreal.

“Yes?” She asked, timidity softening the response.

“Welcome, and might I offer my congratulations?”

Sarah’s cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink, just enough to make her look as though she’d been running or dan

cing. “Thank you.”

Uncertainty besieged her at the oddness of this event, but she lifted her eyes to Syed and everything clarified once more.

“I have something for you,” he said, as if sensing her need for distraction.

“Don’t you think you’ve given me enough?” She muttered. How in the world could she ever repay him for his generosity?

“No.” There was a stoniness to the response; an instant rejection that she couldn’t fathom. His eyes were earnest and his voice low. “Come.” And he linked his fingers through hers, squeezing tight before lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss against her palm. “You are beautiful.”

Was she? Or was it the dress? Unconsciously, she ran her free hand over the ivory silk that formed a fitted bodice with a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves, that was held in place at the back with a series of tiny silk buttons, to keep it tight all the way to her waist where it puffed into a rather full skirt. Not exactly a bridal gown, but close enough. Her fingers lifted to the tiara a woman named Fouzia had placed on her head hours earlier. A simple crown, it was nonetheless overloaded with an embarrassment of diamonds.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her eyes clinging to his.

She wanted him.

Marrying him had been surreal. Standing opposite the only man she’d ever loved, a man that even a fortnight ago she had believed gone from her life forever, and pledging to be together for the rest of their lives? It had been a short and precise ceremony. Just an Official to preside, and two lawyers to witness it, Syed had whisked her through his London embassy, past glittering statues and stunning paintings, past tapestries and floral arrangements that smelled like honey and violets, and they’d married. In a room that looked like it had been hastily rearranged for the purpose.

There had been an air of confusion amongst the embassy staff, but Syed had not allowed a moment’s pause. Orders were given, witnesses assembled and formalities attended to. It had been a whirlwind ceremony indeed, lasting only minutes, and yet the storm of intent had been brewing for five long years. When she looked back at who they’d been, and how they’d loved one another, it was no surprise that they were married now.

Not really. In her heart, though she had lost hope, she had never really lost belief.

Sarah couldn’t have said if she credited the idea of soul mates or destiny, but if such lofty and dramatic concepts were fact, then she had been carved from the earth as Syed’s match, and he to be hers.

And just that realisation made her frustrated as hell. Because she wasn’t sure he actually deserved her. Sure, she was a fool for him, but had he done anything to show himself worthy of her?

She took her seat, her mind running over their relationship, ticking through the past. The crazy, swooning, head-over-heels love affair that had burned hotter than the sun and ended suddenly, plunging her into the depths of emotional winter. His return to Iron Oaks, not to ask her go out, not to tell her he loved her, not to beg her forgiveness, but to proposition her for one last night of sex. In exchange for money.

Her cheeks flushed pink as she remembered the cheque he’d given her the next morning, his expectation that she’d take it so obvious. And pride wrapped around her heart as Sarah accepted that she’d preferred to face her utilities being disconnected than to let him pay her for what they’d shared.

Her eyes met his, and perhaps something of her mindset communicated itself to him because he reached over and touched her hand, his expression concerned. “Sheikha? Are you okay?”

She nodded, but her mind was moving on, to the way he’d confronted her at the bar, his temper incendiary, his mind made up. The way he’d walked her home, telling her he wanted to marry her.

“What is it?”

“Why did you leave me?” She looked down at her ring, the feeling of being an imposter, someone who didn’t belong with him deep in her heart.

His voice had a forced joviality to it. “Najin, this is hardly what I want to talk with you about now. Not on our wedding night.”

The tears in Sarah’s eyes surprised him; so too her obvious defiance. “I don’t want to start our marriage with misunderstanding. Five years ago you broke my heart and now you’re asking me to trust you with it again.” She jutted her chin out angrily, not caring that she was basically confessing how she felt for him. “I deserve to know the truth.”

A muscle jerked in his cheek. “You know it.”

“Your family wouldn’t approve, and yet they still won’t. But we’re married. Why marry me now and not then? And don’t throw your engagement in my face. You didn’t respect it enough not to sleep with me, so I don’t think that’s a good excuse.”

His smile was tight. “You’re right. That’s very perceptive of you. I never wanted to marry Charlotte, but once I met you I hated the very idea.”

“Still you left me though,” she said softly.

The waiter appeared, a bottle of frosted champagne in hand. He began to peel the foil from its top, pain-stakingly slowly, until Syed reached up and curled his fingers around its base. “I’ll do it. Leave us, for now.”

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