The Sheikh's Online Bride - A Modern Mail Order Romance Read online

  Pastel peach, with purple edges.

  In that instant, she knew. Sadiq had come after her. He was likely on the rooftop of the building at that very moment. She felt faint.

  She ignored her head, which tried to remind her that she was mad at him—that he had broken her heart—but her heart was fully functional, and refused to listen.

  Hallie ran down the corridor of cubicles until she reached the staircase. They were almost on the top floor, and she only had to fly up three more stories before she reached the metal doorway that led to the rooftop. When she threw it open, her eyes widened.

  There, tossing rose petals off the roof of a corporate building, was the Sheikh himself. A gleaming white helicopter was behind him, engine running, its spinning blades sending the petals rushing in bright clouds over the side of the roof.

  Sadiq tossed another handful in the air, but when the door slammed behind Hallie, he turned, his perfect hair whipping in the wind.

  His eyes were like fire when they locked with hers, and Hallie realized that there would never be another man that made her feel the way she did when she was with Sadiq.

  Running across the rooftop, she threw herself in his arms, and he held her tight to his chest.

  “Oh Hallie, I’m so sorry,” he breathed, cradling the back of her head with his hand.

  She clung to him for dear life, unable to speak.

  Finally, he pulled away from the embrace, gazing into her eyes. “I know I don’t deserve it, but if you would please, please let me talk to you, for one minute. You can tell me to jump off this building if you want, but not before I get a chance to say what I’ve come here to say.”

  Hallie continued to stare, memorizing his face; it was more handsome than she remembered, even if she had only been away from him a short while. It was a face that had grown so dear to her in such a short amount of time. No wonder it haunted her every waking moment.

  Seeing that she was willing to listen, Sadiq plunged on. “I did start that app to find a wife, for my own selfish and shallow reasons. After I met you, after everything we’ve been through, I realized how it could be abused, and I shut it down.

  “I love you, Hallie, more than I ever thought I could love anyone. Before we met, I was an arrogant, foolish man who had no idea what really mattered in life. You changed me. You showed me how much more there is to the world. Never have I enjoyed seeing the world more than I have through your eyes, taking you with me on all the adventures we’ve shared. You are everything I’ve ever wanted—needed—and I can’t live without you.”

  Hallie watched him with rapt attention, soaking in his words. She had imagined this happening, of course. She had imagined every possible scenario…even the one where she told him where he could stick it. She held onto him a little tighter.

  “I know I should regret the circumstances that brought us together, but I don’t. If I’d never created that stupid app, I never would have met you, and my life would be just as empty and meaningless as it’s been since the moment you walked out of my life.”

  Hallie continued to stare. She could see tears welling up in Sadiq’s eyes. When she’d first met him, she couldn’t have even imagined him crying. And now he was, and all because he loved her.

  “Please say something,” he choked.

  Hallie paused.

  “Just promise me one thing,” she said.

  Sadiq let out a gusty breath.

  “Anything.”

  “No more lies.”

  “No more lies. Never again. I promise you.”

  Hallie’s frown blossomed into a grin, the first true smile she’d cracked since leaving him.

  “Good. Because I missed you like crazy, and I don’t want to live without you, either.”

  Sadiq’s lips crashed into Hallie’s before she even had a chance to see them coming, and her eyes widened for an instant before they closed, her arms folding themselves around Sadiq’s shoulders. God, she had missed those shoulders.

  He twirled her around in a circle and she laughed, gleefully; when he set her down, his expression was happy, but serious.

  “Then I’ll ask this one more time, and I’ll do it right.”

  With that, Sadiq knelt down on one knee and pulled a small black box from his breast pocket. When he cracked it open, he revealed a glinting diamond ring.

  “Hallie Richards, will you make me the happiest man in all the world, and accept my proposal of marriage? Will you marry me?”

  Hallie released a sob—one she’d been holding in for far too long. Sadiq’s face faltered at her reaction.

  “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

  Grinning from ear to ear, Sadiq took Hallie in his arms and kissed her silly. They held each other tight for what seemed like forever, and no time at all.

  “What should we do now?” Hallie asked.

  Sadiq turned them both to face the helicopter that was across the way from them.

  “I thought I might sweep you off your feet, if you’re willing.”

  Hallie laughed. “You are always so full of surprises.”

  “Oh, just wait. I plan on filling your life with happy surprises for as long as we both shall live.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Sadiq took her hand and led the way to the helicopter, where they strapped in. The driver looked back at them expectantly.

  “Where are we going?” Hallie asked.

  “Wherever you want.”

  Hallie thought about that for a moment before she took Sadiq’s hand in hers and gave him another smile.

  “Let’s go home.”

  SEVENTEEN

  “Honey, are you ready? We’re going to miss it!”

  Hallie pulled her hair back into a quick ponytail and strapped on her best hiking boots. As much as she enjoyed being carried in her fiancé’s arms through the sands of Al Shayam, she figured he deserved a break from heavy lifting every once in a while.

  Once her shoes were tied, she dashed from her closet and ran straight into Sadiq.

  “Woah, there. No need to topple over future husbands! We’ll get there soon enough.”

  Hallie straightened herself up, letting her grip linger on his forearms before letting go. “I’m ready,” she breathed.

  “Good.”

  Sadiq took her hand and led her out of a back door. The back of the palace had a small garden with desert vegetation, but beyond that there was nothing but sand dunes as far as the eye could see.

  “How far are we going?” Hallie asked.

  “Not too far. It won’t be the greatest view in the world, but I think it’s pretty nice. Anyway, it’s where I spent a lot of time as a kid.”

  Hallie hiked across the sand after Sadiq, excited to see this place. He had shown her more than a few special places—his library being one of her favorites, still—but there was plenty more she had to learn about the Sheikh as a youngster, and she was looking forward to it with each step.

  The world was turning cool as the sunset shimmered across the horizon. Hallie could understand in that moment how people would see mirages. The world looked ethereal as they hiked over two or three dunes, before Sadiq stopped walking.

  “See, just there,” he said, pointing a little ahead.

  Hallie squinted, unable to tell if what he was pointing to was a mirage or not. As they drew closer, Hallie realized that there was a cool little pond surrounded by luscious palm trees.

  “This is wonderful!” she said, breathing in the cool evening air.

  Sadiq beamed. “This was my favorite spot growing up. Even now, when I can’t seem to get my head on straight, or I just need time to think, this is where I come to. It’s a very special place.”

  Beyond the dunes, the sun was sinking beneath the horizon, casting a warm, fuzzy glow of colors across the sky. Sadiq removed a backpack from his shoulders and opened it up, pulling out a blanket, a bottle of champagne, and two crystal flutes. He spread out the blanket for Hallie to sit on while he popp
ed the cork and poured them each a drink.

  “For my future bride,” he said, handing one to Hallie.

  As he leaned down to pass her the glass, she tugged on his shirt, pulling him down to her for a kiss. “Thanks, future husband,” she murmured.

  Sadiq settled in next to her as the two of them watched the sun sink lower and lower, the sky darkening to deep purples and shades of indigo. Stars began to twinkle in the distance, one after another popping up far along the expanse of the desert sky.

  It had been a few weeks since their return to Al Shayam. The wedding was back in place, only this time—at Sadiq’s insistence—Hallie was to invite anyone she wanted, and he would foot the bill. Gemma would be arriving in a few days’ time to be her maid of honor, and Mallory would be attending the ceremony as well. Mallory had been so genuinely happy for her after Hallie had explained her story, and she hoped that a small vacation and a place in her wedding might in some way make up for her white lie, all those months before.

  Hallie couldn’t wait.

  She sighed, leaning into Sadiq, who nudged against her affectionately.

  “What is that sigh about, my dear?”

  “It’s just amazing, isn’t it. My life has been such a series of strange twists and turns, and yet here I am, sitting a world away in a country that until a few months ago I’d never heard of, and I’ve never been happier.”

  Sadiq turned and looked down at her, his expression uncertain. “Really?” he asked.

  Hallie placed her hand over his, staring deeply into his warm brown eyes. “Really. If I could be anywhere in the whole world, I would always choose to be right here, with you.”

  “I love you, Hallie.”

  It was a phrase she never tired of hearing. Resting her head against his shoulder, Hallie gazed out into the cool desert night, perfectly content.

  “I love you, too,” she said.

  It was then she realized dreams really do come true, and that her fairy tale had finally arrived.

  The End

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  And now, as promised, are the first few chapters of my previous novel, Wifed By The Sheikh. Enjoy!

  ONE

  Zelda’s feet had been aching for five blocks, but still she kept walking, determined to put as much distance between herself and her parents as possible.

  “I’ll show them who’s wasting their life,” she muttered, resentment tingling through her as her mind circled around to the argument that had prompted her seemingly endless walk.

  The question of just how she would show her parents remained nebulous in her mind; Zelda hadn’t thought past the flash of fury and indignation that her parents’ comments had prompted. In point of fact, when she’d left the house, she hadn’t managed to take more than a backpack of clothes, her phone and wallet, and a few toiletries with her. It was certainly not the best thought-out exit of her life, but the thought of going back and retrieving any of her other possessions before she figured out a way to turn her defeat into a victory was more painful than the blisters she could feel forming on her toes.

  She had left the house with little idea of where she wanted to end up, so when Zelda saw the signs for the Miami Beach Marina, she started to pick up her sluggish pace once more. Even if it wasn’t a very scenic destination, she might at least get some idea of what to with herself next if she wandered the area for long enough.

  There aren’t any cruise ships around here—or at least there shouldn’t be, she thought as she slipped past a guard explaining something to a wealthy-looking couple in classic South Beach white linen resort wear. Most of them leave from Port of Miami, but there might be something, someone looking for a new employee. Maybe there was a dinner cruise moored and ready to leave; or perhaps she’d find one of the vendors on site advertising for staff.

  Zelda had to admit to herself that a job as a barmaid at that marina was something of a comedown from the prospect she’d once had of becoming a chef-caterer, but it would be enough to live on—hopefully—while she planned her next move.

  She looked around her, taking in the sight of luxury yachts and smaller, but still undeniably expensive, sport boats at anchor all over the marina. She forgot about the pain in her feet entirely as she dreamed vague fantasies of talking her way onto a small cruise liner, staying out to sea for a few days, safely out of her parents’ reach. She’d return to tell them that she’d made enough on her first outing at sea to be able to afford to move out, and that she was going to keep working that job, and they could take all their threats of refusing to support her financially and sit on them.

  She replayed the argument in her mind once more as she wandered past the boats, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. The problem had started when she’d told her parents that she had dropped out of the program at Le Cordon Bleu.

  They hadn’t been all that thrilled with her choosing that option to begin with; both her mother and her father had hoped that she would live up to their example and not only complete her B.A. in Literature, but go on to a master’s degree, and maybe even a Ph.D. But Zelda had come to the conclusion two years into the English Literature program at UCF that she didn’t have the intellectual stamina to spend the next four or six years working away on studies that weren’t likely to get her a job other than as a teacher or professor.

  They’d been bitterly disappointed with her steadfast refusal to consider switching majors at UCF, or maybe simply taking a year off to “find herself” before returning to the university. Both of her parents had certainly instilled a love of learning in Zelda: her English professor mother had let her read F. Scott Fitzgerald at the youngest permissible age so that she could understand the inspiration for her name, and her Doctor of History father had spent her entire childhood encouraging her to question the common historical narrative, teaching her to think critically. They had thought that she would follow in their footsteps in some way, and continue the family tradition of erudition and prestige. Instead, Zelda had come home at the end of her fourth semester, after sitting her exams, and announced that she had no intention of ever going back.

  Instead, she had opted to pursue catering; Zelda had always loved food, and her mother had always said that she had “a knack” for developing recipes and tweaking ones that already existed.

  Zelda’s goal had been to open her own business as soon as she finished her studies at Le Cordon Bleu, but it had quickly become obvious to her that most of her classroom time would be spent in repetitive drills: chopping vegetables, making stocks that she’d made five times before, replicating existing recipes down to the last detail. She had learned how to make Lobster Thermidor, how to create five different types of stock, and how to make perfectly clear consommé. But the sheer boredom of so much repetition, so many drills, and the frustration of not being able to deviate even for a moment from the school-developed recipes had eventually gotten to her, and Zelda had decided that culinary school was not for her any more than university had been.

  Her parents had started out understanding. “I can understand why so much of same-drill-different-day would put you off, sweetheart,” her mother had said. “But there is a reason for them putting you through all of this, you know.”

  “They expect most of us to end up as line chefs,” Zelda had told her mother. “Do you really blame me for not wanting that for myself? How am I supposed to innovate if I’m not allowed?”

  “Can’t you wait until you’ve finished the training and innovate then?”

  When Zelda had insisted that she was every bit as dissatisfied with culinary school as she had been with UCF, the tone of her parents’ voices had started to sharpen. They had accused her of wasting her time, and of getting them involved in one money-wasting scheme after another.

  “What are you going to do next? Decide that cosmetology scho
ol is the only thing you want to do?” Her mother had shaken her head. “Well I can tell you this, kiddo: if you want to take another whack at a totally different line of study, you’re going to have to find a way to fund it yourself.”

  “What? Why?”

  “We sank our money into you going to UCF and you dropped out after two years,” her father had said. “Then you swore to us that you were going to be a star of the catering world and we sunk more money into culinary school, without the benefit of any discounts or waivers that we got with UCF because Le Cordon Bleu doesn’t care if we’re professors at another university in the state.” Both of her parents had begun shaking their heads at that point. “Your mother and I are not cash cows, Zelda, and we’re not going to fund every last whim you have on the off-chance that this time you’ll actually get serious.”