Page 14 of The Sheikh's Temporary Girlfriend

Being a girlfriend to a sheikh was way out of her comfort zone. She was no actor. She wasn’t even a half-decent waitress let alone someone who’d fool an entire nation into believing she was worthy of their sheikh.

Basam withdrew the red abaya from its hangar. “Arms up,” he instructed.

She lifted them obediently, the silky fabric then sliding over her body, the hem settling at her ankles. She touched the tiny little spray of silver gems embedded into its bodice.

“Diamonds,” he murmured with a smile. “They’ll go perfectly with your tiara and the choker and earrings I gifted you.”

She nodded. “I left them on the vanity in the bathroom. I didn’t want to get them wet,” she admitted.

His smile was wide as he escorted her to the bathroom. “You might be the first girl I’ve met who appreciates the value of diamonds.”

She shrugged weakly. “They don’t grow on trees, at least, not where I’m from.”

He chuckled. “Believe me, they don’t here, either. My currency here is oil.”

“Black gold?” she asked.

“More or less. Not that it’s my only income stream. I have…many.”

She stood on the white tiles with gold accents, her eyes meeting Basam’s in the vanity mirror as he lifted the choker and brought it to her throat. She swallowed hard as his fingertips touched her flesh, tingles cascading right through her body at the contact.

It wasn’t until he secured the choker that she clipped in the earrings, then stared at her reflection. “Is that really me?”

“You’re stunning,” he said hoarsely, his hands dropping from her throat to her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she said huskily. She looked up…and up. He towered over her, her head just reaching the top of his shoulders. “You don’t look half-bad yourself.” His white thobe and keffiyeh with matching gold edging was striking. She cleared her throat. “But I should probably put on my heeled sandals so I don’t look pint-sized next to you.”

Though to be fair, most people would probably look small beside him.

Her heels clacked on the shiny marble floor in white and cream swirled with gold as she walked beside her sheikh “boyfriend” through a dozen different corridors, until one opened into a huge room where a string quartet played to guests who socialized below crystal chandeliers. Stone pillars supported a floor above, where shiny gold balustrades showcased a viewing platform, a few dozen guests peering down at everyone else.

Wait-staff hurried between the crowd and a curved, polished cedar bar at one end of the room, their trays stacked with flutes of champagne, fancy cocktails and boutique beers.

She hid a smile. That had been her just a few days ago; balancing flutes of champagne on a tray…until she’d spilled the expensive bubbly everywhere. No, not just anywhere. She’d had the humiliation of spilling it all over the sheikh.

And now look at me…living the Cinderella fairytale that is every girl’s dream.

A hush descended when the guests noticed their sheikh and Amber arrive, and she felt the blood drain from her face at the sudden attention from so many aristocratic people. She could all but smell the wealth in the room, the glittering jewels at the women’s throats and wrists and earlobes, the gold chunky watches at the men’s wrists. The people who’d been guests of Basam’s at the Queensland island had been little more than peasants in comparison.

She clung onto him, drawing from his strength when she was so far out of her depth she was all but drowning.

“Remember, you’re one of us now,” he murmured. “You already look the part. Now you just have to act it.”

He drew her closer to his side as a group of five men and two women approached. It turned out they were dignitaries whose names went in one ear and out the other. But her confidence grew as they moved from one group to another, the conversation flowing more naturally.

The story she shared with Basam was easy enough to maintain, considering it was based on truth. They’d met at a party where she’d been waitressing. Her flutes of champagne had fallen on him and their eyes had connected, their instant chemistry the start of something neither of them could deny.

The latter might have been a stretch, but a part of her couldn’t deny the attraction, at least on her side, had been real.

Basam stroked his thumb over her inner wrist as he retold the same story yet again to another small but avid audience, her throat drying and her heart rate surging. His touch might be a small gesture, but it was a blatantly possessive one, one that made her wish for things that could never be.

They were heading toward yet another group of guests when an older man and a young, beautiful woman approached, intercepting them. The young woman’s dark eyes flashed with emotion, her even darker hair that fell to her waist carefully intertwined with jewels that sparkled under the light of the many chandeliers.

“Sheikh Basam,” the older man greeted.

“Amal,” Basam said in return, then glanced at the young woman and said, “Maram, how lovely to see you.”

Amber sucked in a breath at the name she instantly recognized even as Maram inclined her head, as regal as any princess and ten times more beautiful.

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