The Sheikh's Faux Bride - Completed

Chapter One

Approaching the entrance, Julian Sommers took a deep breath, then entered further. She had expected to be questioned, even met by staff. Probably by a butler, only confronted with a flurry of staff, racing around in a wild panic.

"Excuse me," she tried getting someone's attention and raced by. Sighing, she looked around. She had papers that needed delivering, and it seemed something big was going down, which was none of her business. She was only here to collect a signature, then be gone. "Excuse me," she tried again and ignored.

The large sparse room had most of the furniture pushed to one side, while in front of the full glass windows with the best views, a long row of tables was being set up.

White table clothes flung on top, followed by plates of small bits of appetisers that were placed down.

Julia approached the busy staff. "Hello." Trying a different path, smiling at the young, pretty, dark-headed girl. "I'm looking for," she paused, reading over the foreign name. "Habib. Mister Al-Habib," she read.

"Aren't we all? Which one?" There was more than one? Interesting.

"Um," she perused the documents, searching. "Karif Al-Habib"

"That would be Sheikh Karif Azir Rakim Al-Habib to you," a deep voice drawled behind her. Startled, Julia spun around, staring into a broad, dark vested, jacketed chest, stepping back, hitting a table with the back of her legs.

A large firm hand shot out, steadying her, sending electrifying tingles through her. She trembled, looking up into dark, velvet brown eyes that swept over her attire in one swooping movement.

Trouble came instantly to her mind.

She swallowed hard, past the lump in her throat. "You are he, this sheikh?" No one had told her. Just sent her across town to the most expensive hotel with papers.

"Yes, and who are you?" He asked, shoving hands into his dark pants pockets. He was so big, broad, and male. Jet black hair, soft and wavy around his spectacular, sculptured features. Chiselled cheekbones, deep-set eyes, full shapely lips, stubble jawline, her eyes meeting his watchful gaze as they rose.

"Um, sorry. Julian Sommers. They asked me to bring these," she waved a folder at him, " to you from Templestowe corporation, needing your signature." She held out the folder that was taken that he flicked through briefly.

"Please follow me and let the staff do their work."

"Of course, Sheikh." He arched a brow. She smiled at him. "Never had that before, sir. A real live Sheikh, I mean."

"Hmm." He walked off with a long-legged stride as she trotted behind in high heels and a pencil tight midi skirt that didn't give her much leeway.

"Karif!" A stunning woman charged up to him, stopping him, giving Julia a chance to catch up, stopping at his side. She had to bring those papers back today and sign. She might be a temp, but she always gave one-hundred per cent.

The blond was smartly dressed, hair pinned back in a stylish bun, making her ponytail a pathetic joke. Her first job in weeks, and she had been running late.

First, her car wouldn't start chasing a bus down the street and missed. Thankfully, a neighbour had given her a lift to the nearest train station she took into town.

Once in the Templestowe building, she's sent on a wild goose chase, finally arriving at the right office. Five minutes late, the papers shoved in her hand.

Now here she was in a penthouse, surrounded by luxury. With magnificent views of the Yarra river, she had noticed from the ceiling to floor windows.

"Can you try this?" Someone shoved a plate under her nose of red salsa looking stuff on small wafers. She looked across to the Sheikh, confronting his back. "Please."