The Sheikh’s Fake Bride Scheme (Sheikhs and Sweethearts)

1. Kareem

CHAPTER 1

KAREEM

“ L et’s make this quick, Kareem. I have a number of meetings today.”

Sheikh Kareem Nusaybah kept his face composed as his father, King Hassan, settled into his seat. He knew better than to show any emotion, even though internally he was already boiling. He didn’t feel that he should have had to schedule a meeting to talk to his father, but it was the only way he could truly hope to be taken seriously and he knew it. His father had written him off a long time ago. After all, Kareem’s two elder brothers were ahead of him in line for the throne, so presumably there was no reason his father needed to take him seriously.

He had done this his father’s way, though — he’d scheduled a meeting. And now that he had done that, he was determined to be heard out. He could see his father checking his watch, already with his mind on the real meetings that lay ahead, but Kareem wasn’t going to be dismissed so easily.

“I’ve been thinking about our economic problems, Father,” he said.

“We haven’t got economic problems,” his father scoffed. “Our coffers are as full as they’ve ever been. How do you think you’re able to afford that expensive car you drive all over the city?”

“I’m not talking about our family’s finances,” Kareem said, frustrated. Only his father could have such an inflated sense of his own importance that he would think of his own finances as the economy . “I’m talking about the well-being of our country as a whole.”

His father raised his eyebrows. “What would you know about Qalmar’s economy?”

“I know that unemployment is at an all-time high,” Kareem said.

“Did you read that on the internet?”

“Only because you don’t share the royal briefings with me. I’m sure it’s been mentioned in there.”

“You don’t need to read the briefings. Besides, they’re classified.”

“And I have clearance. I am your son, you know.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” his father said. “And you don’t need to worry about the economy, either. These things have a way of sorting themselves out if you give them some time.”

Kareem shook his head. “We’re the leaders of this country, Father. We can’t just sit around and wait for the economy to stabilize. We owe the people better than that.”

“Well, I don’t know what you want to do about it,” his father said. “You’re not an economist, Kareem.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have ideas. And that’s why I called you here today.” Kareem took a deep breath. “I think we should host a motorsports event.”

His father stared at him for a long moment — a moment during which Kareem actually dared to have some hope.

Then he burst out laughing, and Kareem’s heart sank.

“I should have known!” he exclaimed. “I should have known that this would just be the same thing it always is with you — another opportunity to talk about race cars. You’ll never grow up, Kareem. This is the interest of a little boy, not a man who might someday be in charge of a nation.”

“I never will be in charge of Qalmar, Father,” Kareem reminded his father, feeling stung. “You tell me that all the time.”

“Yes, and thank God for that fact. Thank God I have your brother Amir to inherit my throne,” Kareem’s father said. “You’re unfit to lead a country if the response you have to an economic crisis is race cars .”

“So you admit that there’s a crisis.”

“Kareem, I don’t want to discuss this with you. I have a meeting with my financial minister — he is the one who will help put the economy to rights.” The king began to rise to his feet.

“Wait,” Kareem insisted. “At least tell your financial minister what I suggested, Father. He’ll see the sense in it even if you don’t. All right, I have a passion for motorsports, and you don’t that’s a suitable interest for a man of my station. We can disagree on that. But you must see how a major event would boost tourism and elevate us on the world stage.”

“We would be a laughingstock.”

“No, we wouldn’t! Many nations have events like this, and nobody laughs at them.”

“The nations you’re talking about are global superpowers, Kareem. Titans of trade and innovation. They can afford to do something frivolous every now and again. But if this is the way Qalmar appears on the world stage — if this becomes the thing we are best known for — we will be a joke, and I won’t have that for my country.”

“You’re not even going to hear my proposal, Father? I worked hard on this, you know.”

“I’ve heard enough. You could have saved yourself some time, frankly, if you had told me what you were going to propose. You can’t solve everything with race cars, Kareem.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Just let me show you?—”

“No.” King Hassan rose to his feet. “That’s enough. You know, when you called me here, when you said it was a business matter, I thought you might actually be ready to take the tech job Amir has been offering you since the day you left university.”

“I told you I have no interest in tech, Father. I’ve told you many times.”

“Yes, you want to be a race car driver. I know.”

“I don’t want to drive. But I do have a passion for racing, and I don’t understand what’s so wrong with that.”

“I know you don’t.” His father started for the door. “You come and see me when you’re ready to take your future seriously, Kareem — but I won’t hold my breath for that day to come any time soon, I can tell you that.”

He saw himself out.

Kareem was left behind, staring at the door in shock. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that his father hadn’t been willing to hear him out — when had his father ever done anything of the kind? Yet he had to admit that he had hoped. He had believed in this idea — he still believed in it. He wanted to think it could work.

It stung that his father hadn’t listened to a word of it. He had assumed from the very start that Kareem was being foolhardy and childish. He hadn’t even given Kareem’s pitch a chance, and now all the planning and pondering would be for nothing.

And then Kareem paused.

Would it be for nothing?

All right, so his father hadn’t agreed to his idea. Why did that matter? He wasn’t asking his father to fund the motorsports event he’d wanted to throw. Yes, he had hoped the national treasury might sponsor it, but in the end, it was supposed to be a boon to the economy. And that meant he ought to be able to pull it off without costing the country money.

He could do that. It wouldn’t be as grand as what he had originally envisioned but he could finance this event. At least for its first year he could manage. And after this year, his father would see what a good idea it had been and would want to get involved in next year’s race. Yes, that was it. That was how he was going to make this work.

The Spritzer Cup was set to take place next week in the United States — already, Kareem’s mind was racing, his thoughts rich with plans. He had wanted to go anyway, but he hadn’t been able to think of a good enough reason — one that would justify leaving Qalmar against what he knew his father’s wishes would be. Now, though, he had his reason.

The top talent in the world would be at the Spritzer Cup. Kareem would go to scout, to see who was currently the best of the best. He would recruit top racers — and not just racers, but players behind the scenes — to help him put on his event. That way, he could make sure that his event was one everyone in the world would be talking about.

The Qalmar Cup , he thought, envisioning the name in lights. No, maybe the Nusaybah Cup? His father would hate that, but if Kareem was honest, that thought only made it appeal to him more.

He had met with his father in the executive wing of the palace, which was just as troubling as anything else — why he had to meet with his own father here, instead of in the residential quarters, was difficult to contemplate. But Kareem was used to this sort of thing from his father, and at least it didn’t catch him by surprise anymore. He made his way through the halls and back out to the front of the building, where a valet had already brought his car around for him.

“We can arrange for a driver to take you wherever you’d like to go, Sheikh Kareem,” the valet said.

It was the same offer his father’s valets always made to him. Kareem had to remember not to be angry at them. They were only following orders. Even though he had answered this question a hundred times, they were beholden to follow his father’s orders. They couldn’t simply decide to stop asking.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’ll drive myself.”

The valet handed him the keys and Kareem got into the car. As soon as he was behind the wheel, he began to feel better. He knew his father saw his choice to drive himself places as an extension of his childish obsession with cars, but that wasn’t it. Driving was one of the few things Kareem had the freedom to do in his life that made him feel as if he was in control. He knew he would never give it up.

The streets of Qalmar were quiet at this part of the afternoon. Everyone was at work — or at least, those who had jobs were. Kareem couldn’t help noticing the people on the street, mere blocks away from the palace. The number of unhoused people here in Qalmar was on the rise, no doubt thanks to the flagging economy. Something really did need to be done.

His resolve intensified. Yes, this motorsports event would be a good time for him, an indulgence of a hobby he had always loved. He could admit to that. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea.

He pressed a button on the dashboard of his car and was treated to the rhythmic tones of a dialing phone. A moment later, a pleasant female voice answered. “How may I assist you, Sheikh Kareem?”

“I need a flight, Fatima,” Kareem told his assistant.

“A flight?” Fatima repeated.

“I need you to get me a plane. Not my father’s. He’s not going to approve of this. One of the other royal planes — a small one will do. Something I can take without raising too many questions.”

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Fatima agreed. “But where are you going?”

“I’m going to Las Vegas, Nevada. And I need to leave tomorrow.”

If Fatima was fazed, she didn’t show it. She was a wonderful assistant. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll make sure everything is in order.”

“Thank you, Fatima. I knew I’d be able to count on you.”

Kareem ended the call. In spite of how poorly the day had gone, he found a smile threatening to take over his face.

He was going to the States. He was going to see the Spritzer Cup.

And what was more, he was going to achieve his lifelong dream of bringing motorsports to Qalmar. With or without his father’s approval.

Feeling considerably better than he had when the meeting had ended, he drove the rest of the way to the estate where he lived — smaller than the homes of either of his elder brothers, much smaller than the palace, but perfect for Kareem’s needs.

He had preparations to make and packing to do. And he needed to get a good night’s sleep for tomorrow’s journey — he never did sleep very well on planes, and he wanted to be rested so that he would be in good shape when he landed in Las Vegas.

Kareem knew he was being bold, but he had never been more certain of anything in his life — this was going to be a great success.