The Sheikh’s Forced Bride(5)
Talking faster now, she spread her hands wide and said, “I’ve read about your…exploits. I figured if anyone could bring a spotlight onto this wrong, it would be you. Well, actually, it would be your notoriety.”
“I am so happy to see you are an honest woman. Did you even think of the shame you could bring down on Fadiyah and her family?” She stiffened. “Frankly, no. I figured I was saving her—”
“From a fate worse than death? Fadiyah would one day have been sultana.”
She propped a hand on her hip. “And maybe she didn’t want that? Anyone ever ask her what she wanted? Did you even meet her before the ceremony?”
A blush reddened his cheeks slightly, but again he brushed away her words with an impatient swipe of one long-fingered hand. No man should have hands that elegant, Casey decided. And then she tried to focus on his words. “…possible to arrange your release without having to involve your embassy or any official paperwork.”
She blinked. “Uh…how? Do you have a magic carpet?” He stared at her. She lifted one shoulder. “Sorry—bad joke.”
“Well, this is not. If you were my fiancée, I could have you immediately given into my custody.”.
She stared at him for a long moment. The urge to laugh welled in her chest, but he sounded serious about that. She shook her head. “I’ve heard of some lame pick-up lines, but that…you want me to step into that poor girl’s shoes? I’ve seen how little respect women get in Sharjah. Thanks, but no thanks.”
Khalid folded his arms over what was, she noticed, a very broad chest. “You think do you not—what is the phrase, owe me? I made a promise to my father—and in my world honor matters more than riche—to marry. You have ruined my chances for that, leaving me in what you might call a tight spot. If you pose as my fiancée, not only do you repair what you have done to insult me, it is possible my father will see an American bride—one outspoken as you—is not a daughter he wishes to add to the family. He will release me from my promise—I will be free, and so will you.”
It sounded too damn simple.
Casey didn’t think for one moment that she should trust him. He was smiling again—that charming, little-boy lost quirk of the mouth with eyes that were imploring her to see his side of things. Oh, yeah—this was his plan all right, and one that could end with her in even deeper trouble.
On the other hand, his dad really could keep her locked up and unable to reach out to anyone who could help her. That would prevent any American businesses from having to back away from Sharjah deals. But she wasn’t ready to jump into this farce. Not yet.
Shaking her head, she said, “And what do I get from this?.”
Pushing off the wall, he faced her. “Your freedom is not enough?”
“You are not exactly in a position to make demands.” “Oh, I think I am. Your dad runs this country. Meaning, you can get me in anywhere. I could get a story on the inside of an arranged marriage. An interview with Fadiyah even. I’ll pose as your fiancée and you help me get a story that’s Pulitzer worthy.”
“Very well. You have my word. Now is there anything else? Money perhaps?” He sounded so smug, her palm itched to slap the smile off his handsome face.
“Let’s get one thing clear—I’m not a bride you can buy or barter for, buster.”
He laughed—and Casey hated that she liked that low, rich sound. “It will not be that much of a hardship to pose as the fiancée of the son of a sultan.”
Casey shook her head. “Excuse me, but I’ve been through my sister getting married. I know just how much work those damn things are. Even a fake one’s going to take up more time than I want to give it. But if I get the story—”
“That is the spirit. Find the positive side of this situation. I’ve been searching for it myself.”
He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. For a moment, Casey wondered what that was about, but of course there would be cameras. A guard showed up at once, keys jingling. He unlocked the cell and pulled open the door.
Gingerly, Casey stepped out, half expecting this to be a joke—Khalid would lift his hand again and she’d be tossed back into the cell and he’d laugh. Instead, he only looked her up and down and shook his head. “We can do something about your clothes when we get to the palace.”
A hot shower with lots of soap suddenly sounded like the best idea in the world. She glanced at Khalid. “I’m going to need my passport back and my cell phone, and my things from the hotel. And my computer.”