Chosen by the Sheikh Read Free Page B

Beatrice rarely lost her temper—but when she did she lost it big time!
    She remained so angry that her furious long-legged stride got her back to Emma’s flat in record time. Turning the key in the lock, she pushed open the door and stepped into the sitting room.
    â€˜You’ll never guess what—’ She stopped abruptly. The room was empty, but a muffled sound from the bedroom indicated her friend was home.
    â€˜That didn’t take long,’ Emma said, belting a robe aroundher waist as she emerged from the bedroom, her blonde curls tousled and her cheeks flushed. ‘Well, what was your meeting all about? Has a rich relative left you a fortune?’
    Bea, struggling to control her anger, barely registered her friend’s breath less voice as she gritted her teeth. ‘A fortune was involved,’ she admitted, kicking off her shoes and flopping down onto the sofa. ‘But, like I told you, I don’t have any relatives—rich or otherwise.’
    Neither, after living in foster care after her mother’s death, did she have Emma’s romantic imagination.
    Bea had responded to the mysterious invitation that had arrived in the post with curiosity and an open mind, but no great expectations. Definitely not the expectation of being insulted so comprehensively!
    â€˜Neither did I bump into a white knight at the corner shop.’
    â€˜Don’t be like that, Bea. There’s someone out there for you…a soul mate.’
    Sometimes Emma’s incurable romanticism could be irritating. ‘I won’t hold my breath—’ She stopped, tilting her head in a listening attitude. ‘Did you hear that? It sounded as if it came—’
    Emma threw a nervous look at the closed bedroom door, before perching on the arm of a chair and asking quickly, ‘What on earth did the lawyer say to put you in this mood?’
    â€˜It wasn’t the lawyer I spoke to. The man I did speak to offered me a small fortune.’
    Actually, Beatrice thought, not so small! The number of noughts on the paper he had handed her had looked like a misprint, but apparently it wasn’t.
    Emma looked bemused. ‘And that made you angry?’
    â€˜The money was conditional on me… I warn you, Emma, you’re not going to believe this.’ She un clenched her fists, sucked in a deep breath and tried to smile—it really was absurd. ‘It was conditional on me not marrying Khalid!’
    She paused, fully expecting Emma’s incredulous laughter, but not expecting to see the colour seep from her friend’s face.
    â€˜What did he say when you told him you weren’t engaged to Khalid?’
    â€˜He didn’t give me the chance. And then I got so mad, because he was so utterly detestable and smug, and… Well,’ she admitted ruefully, ‘I lost my temper and told him I fancied the idea of being a princess. Princess Bea…’ She struck a pose and chuckled. ‘What do you think? Shall I suggest it to Khalid? Incidentally, I must give him a ring and warn him what his brother is up to.’
    â€˜Oh, God, Bea!’ Emma moaned, looking if it was at all possible, even paler. ‘Why did you say that to him…?’
    Beatrice was perplexed by her friend’s attitude. ‘Could it have had something to do with the fact the man treated me like some cheap little tart? I don’t think you under stand, Emma.’ Beatrice spelt it out. ‘Poor Khalid must have fallen in love with some girl. His brother is trying to buy this girl off, and for some weird reason he thinks it’s me.’ She laughed, lifting her hair from the back of her neck and stretching with feline grace. ‘Weird doesn’t really cover it.’
    â€˜Oh, Emma under stands, Bea.’
    At the sound of the rueful voice Beatrice jumped up—in time to see Khalid emerge from the bedroom, his shirt un but toned to reveal his bronzed