The Sheikh's Green Card Bride Page 17

  “I did it because I loved you,” she whispered finally, wiping tears from her eyes. “And when we made love, it was the most magical moment of my life. I thought I could die happy then and there. Then the next morning you were so cold, and it was so clear all you’d wanted was to consummate the marriage for legal purposes, task completed,” she said, the bitterness seeping through her words. “I could have loved you forever, Bahir.”

  When she finally braved a look at him, she was surprised to see his own eyes brimming with tears. She had never, ever seen Bahir cry. He’d never even come close to showing that much emotion. His voice was hoarse as he spoke.

  “You think I made love to you simply to cover my own ass? Nicole, that night was one of the best of my life! You saw me, really saw me. No one else can see past the money and the power, but you did, and you liked me better for it. As for the next morning…I was scared. When I woke up with you in my arms, I realized I’d found a woman I could truly love, and it terrified me. I’ve been taught all my life that love is a weakness, but I know now that not having love is a greater weakness. I’ve been a wreck without you, Nicole. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I have no reason to live without you by my side, and now I’ve ruined it.”

  Nicole watched as a single tear streaked down Bahir’s face. In that moment she forgot all her anger as she approached him and gently wiped that tear from his cheek. She allowed her hand to rest there as she stared into his golden eyes, which shimmered with tears and emotion.

  “I love you, Nicole. Please, can you forgive me, one last time?”

  As she gazed up at Bahir, Nicole’s guard melted away. She realized she’d been foolish, and, if she were honest with herself, childish. Her smile wobbled a little.

  “Yes. And I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that. I was just angry and—”

  Bahir placed two fingers against her lips. “You have no reason to apologize. It is I who will spend my life making this all up to you, that is, if you’ll allow me?”

  With that, he knelt down on one knee and pulled a small box from his left pocket. When he cracked it open, an enormous diamond ring glinted in the sunlight, winking at Nicole. She held a hand to her mouth in shock.

  “Marry me, Nicole. Be my wife—not because of some green card agreement, but because I promise to love and cherish you for the rest of your life. I will do everything in my power to ensure your happiness, if you just give me one more chance.”

  Nicole glanced from the ring and back to Bahir, a man who for so long she had been forcefully trying to convince herself that she hated. As she stared down at him in that moment, though, her whole world flipped over. Everything that had been wrong righted itself, and she was ready to take on the world again, with him by her side.

  “Yes,” she whispered. Then, a little louder, she said, “Yes!” and began to laugh.

  Bahir joined her, rising up to capture her lips in a sacred kiss, sealing the promise they had already made. He twirled her around in a circle, and she clung to his shoulders as he whipped her around. When he stopped, she pressed herself against him, savoring the feel of his strong body against hers.

  “Tell me that you love me,” Bahir said. It was a request, and Nicole willingly obliged.

  “I love you now. I love you always,” she said, and he kissed her again, deeply.

  When they broke apart, Nicole grinned at him, not releasing him from her grip. “What kind of man shows up with divorce papers and an engagement ring?”

  Bahir grinned. “The kind who never gives up hope, even when all seems lost.”

  “Mmm,” she said, kissing him again. “That is one smart man.”

  “So what do we do now?” Bahir asked.

  Nicole scrunched her eyebrows, thinking. “Well, it looks like we could both use some sleep. And I’ve got a fireplace at my apartment back home. I’d say we have some kindling sitting on my desk that we really need to burn.”

  Bahir’s grin was roguish. “And after we burn the papers?”

  Nicole smirked. “We’ll just have to see what happens, won’t we, Mr. Al-Jabbar?”

  “I suppose we will, Mrs. Al-Jabbar.”

  “Not yet,” she said. “Legally I’m still a Calvert.”

  “Would you like to become an Al-Jabbar?” he asked.

  Nicole pondered that for a moment.

  “I believe I would. But this time, let’s do it in front of family and friends. Then we’ll really be held accountable for our actions.”

  Bahir placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

  “That’s a deal,” he said.

  That night, the two of them held a glorious bonfire in Nicole’s apartment before they made passionate love and fell asleep in each other’s arms. This time when Nicole awoke, Bahir was right by her side.

  She knew then that she would be safe with him for the rest of their lives.

  The End

  For a chance to read what happened to Nicole and Bahir next, sign up to Holly Rayner’s Subscriber Club below to download FREE bonus chapters, as well as news and discounts!

  CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP

  And now, as promised, here are the first few chapters of my prior novel, The Prince’s Scandalous Baby

  ONE

  Juliette raced quickly through the halls. Her legs were slight, like the rest of her, and she was making good time, but wasn’t sure if it was good enough. Her messy blond hair, that she’d thrown into a quick bun on top of her head, bounced with every purposeful step.

  She passed a clock on the wall, and looked at it fearfully.

  Five minutes. She had only five minutes to go, and a three-minute walk in front of her through crowded, end-of-term university hallways.

  She picked up the pace, narrowly avoiding a student she’d almost run into when she’d looked at the clock. Her very last assignment of her university career—a piece of Italian to English translation—felt heavy in her hands, as though its importance to her had somehow transformed into a physical weight.

  Excited Italian phrases bounced off the walls around her. Even after three years in Naples, Juliette still found the language enticingly beautiful. Somehow, diving deep into its intricacies day after day, month after month hadn’t dulled the music for her.

  Her eyes glanced up to another clock as she passed it. Three minutes.

  Finally, she got to the main office for her discipline. There, in front of her, was the turn-in box. She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw that there was still a thick stack of papers there, left by her fellow students. The deadline was any moment, but she hadn’t missed it.

  A teacher’s aide appeared from the back and looked at the stack, tired and run ragged as everyone was from the end of the academic term.

  “Are you turning that in, Miss Combs?”

  Juliette nodded and placed the paper on the top of the stack just in time for the aide to pick the papers up and whisk them away.

  And, just like that, it was over. Her entire university career. Done.

  She felt relieved. At least, she thought this was what relief felt like. It was so mixed together with melancholy that it was hard to tell.

  She headed for the city. A walk through the historic streets was just what she needed, she thought, to clear her head.

  She’d spent the last few months looking for jobs in Naples, having started her hunt the moment she realized that without one, she’d be forced to leave the country she’d fallen in love with over the last three years. But no one was hiring. So she’d expanded her search to all of Italy. But still, no one wanted to hire an American girl who would need to be sponsored for a work visa and was straight out of college with no experience.

  She’d considered going in for further study, but just the thought of it tired her. She felt like she’d made it through the last of her studies by the skin of her teeth. She was burned out on academic work, as much as she hated to admit it.

  So she was going home.

  Home. That word was supposed to mean Wisconsin. For
the majority of her life, it had. And she had never thought much about it. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that home stopped meaning Wisconsin, and when it started to mean Italy.

  She could only be completely certain it did, because every time someone asked her when she was going home, and what she was looking forward to about it the most, she had a moment of confusion, followed by a deep sense of heartache.

  She gave them the answers they expected—it wasn’t worth getting into what a thorny notion the thought of returning was. She told whoever was asking that Italy was wonderful, but there was nothing like Wisconsin cheese, her beloved sports teams, and the wide open spaces that only the Midwest of America could really provide.

  What she didn’t tell them was that her job prospects there were even less enticing than they were in Italy. She didn’t tell them that she would need to move back in with her parents, whom she loved dearly, but who would always see her as their baby who had been sent to a foreign land at great risk of losing “who she really was”.

  She just wasn’t connected to any of it anymore, and didn’t see any chance of that changing. Maybe, she thought, if she’d never left, she wouldn’t know any better. But the fact was, she did leave. And she had seen all of the things that would make living back where she’d come from impossible.

  Impossible if she wanted to be happy, anyway.

  As she walked along the streets on the way to downtown, she noticed dozens of flyers on the lampposts. These were for big, commercialized end-of-term parties, put up in this area to lure the endless stream of students that walked this way.

  The parties weren’t really her scene. But she’d been invited to a couple of them and had considered going. She’d be able to drown her worries, and escape from it all for a little while, in theory.

  But that was just it: it was only in theory. In reality, she knew herself well enough by now to know that she’d just be sullen company the whole night. She wouldn’t get any relief from the sad realization that she was soon to be leaving the beautiful place that she’d grown to love.

  And what was the point of going to a party if she was just going to be miserable anyway?

  No, she’d been right the first time. A walk through the city. That would do it. That would clear away the cobwebs and give her one last night, communing with the city that she may never get to see again. At least, not freely. Not like this.

  When she was past the student route, she began to relax more. Here, the people seemed more normal. There wasn’t the frantic end-of-term rush and abandon that permeated everywhere frequented by students around this time of year.

  No, here it was just another day. Just another Friday.

  As she went, Juliette watched the businessmen and women in their suits walk by with a spring in their steps as they realized they were free for the weekend. She watched tradesmen on their way home, with only little telltale signs to show what it was they did for a living. They were free men until Monday.

  She looked down at the streets. She’d been walking these cobblestones for three years, but still, they amazed her. Who was the first person who had walked across them? How different had their life been to the one she led now? Had they enjoyed the silky quality of the sea air as much as she was enjoying it now?

  And then she looked up at the buildings. They were all history, in their own way. Some old buildings, some refurbished, some new. It was the new nestled next to the impossibly old that made the city so intriguing, she thought. The past was always with her, here. The past was always with everyone.