ROMANCE: THE SHEIKH'S GAMES: A Sheikh Romance

  © Copyright 2016 by (Kylie Knight) - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  The Sheikh's Games

  Billionaire Bachelors Club

  By: Kylie Knight

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Bonus Book 1

  Bonus Book 2

  Bonus Book 3

  Bonus Book 4

  Bonus Book 5

  Bonus Book 6

  Bonus Book 7

  Bonus Book 8

  Bonus Book 9

  Bonus Book 10

  Bonus Book 11

  Bonus Book 12

  Bonus Book 13

  Bonus Book 14

  Bonus Book 15

  Bonus Book 16

  Bonus Book 17

  Bonus Book 18

  Bonus Book 19

  Bonus Book 20

  Bonus Book 21

  Bonus Book 22

  Bonus Book 23

  CHAPTER 1

  Sheikh Al-Hafeez Ramadan pushed the door back with such force it banged on the wall behind it. He raced to his large desk situated in the middle of his oval office and yanked the drawer out.

  “I told you this was a bad idea,” Al-Kareem said as he chased him inside.

  “This is not the time for I told you so my friend,” the Sheikh told his friend. “I just know I need to get out of here as quickly as possible, before they get here.”

  “What are you doing?” Al-Kareem asked the man. “You need to go to your father and…”

  “No, I can’t do that,” Al-Hafeez replied, and when he stared at his friend the terror was visible on his features. He stood and raked his hand through his mane of black hair. He was supposed to be a good ruler, from a powerful family, but for the last four years his father has had to bail him out of scandalous gambling binges, and he wasn’t too eager to turn to him again. Not so soon after the last one.

  “So what are you going to do then?” Al-Kareem asked.

  “I have some bonds here, and some gold…”

  “I don’t think that will cover it,” someone said from the doorway. His shadow filled the room even before he did. He walked past Al-Kareem as if he wasn’t there, and headed straight for Al-Hafeez. “I doubt you would have ten million dollars’ worth of bonds stashed in your desk drawer.”

  “N-no,” Sheikh Al-Hafeez stuttered. “I was merely procuring the key so I could visit the bank in the morning and get it for you.”

  “Is that a fact?” the man asked and snapped to two men who were waiting in the hallway. They entered and bore down on Al-Hafeez while Al-Kareem watched, unable to do anything to help his friend.

  “Look, just give me some time,” Al-Hafeez pleaded. He had his hands held up before him in defense; he knew well what these men were capable of. This had not been his first rodeo, but he was a stubborn student.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to just disappear? I mean, that is what this looks like, right? I’d hate to think of what will happen to your dear old father if I can’t get a hold of you,” the man said and smirked. He rubbed his thumb and his index fingers together through his gloves, the wicked gleam in his eyes narrowing his vision.

  “Don’t you dare talk about my father Manseh,” Al-Hafeez. “It seems you forget the family you are dealing with.”

  “I am not dealing with the entire family now Al-Hafeez. Right now, I just need my money or you won’t like what happens next.”

  “I’ll get you the money,” Al-Hafeez told him. “Just stop hounding me.”

  “You have thirty-six hours, and that’s only because I am being gracious,” the man said and stepped out. He snapped his fingers and his henchmen followed him.

  Al-Kareem peeked into the hallway to ensure the men were all gone before closing the door behind him. “Do you now understand the gravity of the situation?”

  “I know the gravity of the situation,” Al-Hafeez shouted. “Why do you think I am in here rummaging for bonds? I know what they are capable of!”

  “Don’t shout at me,” Al-Kareem retorted. “If you had been smart about this and left the underground business alone you would not be in this mess now.”

  “Water under the bridge,” Al-Hafeez said and wiped his hand down his face. He walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink before sinking into the leather chair behind his desk. He sat there silently for a few seconds, appreciating the burn as the brandy coursed down his throat.

  “So, what are you going to do? I know your family has the money…”

  “But will they be happy to help again? That’s the question isn’t it?” Al-Hafeez interjected. He slapped the now empty glass onto the mahogany desk and sat up. “I guess I will just have to clean up this mess on my own.”

  “What are you going to do?” Al-Kareem asked. He knew his friend was reckless and spontaneous and liable to do something stupid yet again. The wild look he had in his eyes was always followed by reckless and irresponsible behavior.

  “I will not be blackmailed by a scumbag,” Al-Hafeez sneered. “If he wants to threaten me, we will see who strikes first.”

  “Are you mad?” Al-Kareem asked and grabbed him by the arm. The strength he wielded was sufficient to cause Al-Hafeez to make a complete three sixty turn. “This man will kill you, or worse, if you don’t pay up. Listen, I will contact my banker in the morning and we will see what happens.”

  “He can’t kill me if I do it first,” Al-Hafeez said.

  “Listen to yourself,” Al-Kareem said. “You sound just like them. For someone of your position and stature, I expected a little more grace under fire. But go ahead and ruin your reputation more than you already have. I will not be there next to you picking up the pieces again.” And with that the man stormed out of the office and slammed the door.

  Sheikh Al-Hafeez stood there, looking at the closed door after his friend had gone. Then he turned and went back to his desk. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He kept it with him at all times, and he hoped he never had occasion to use it. He sighed and took the phone from the cradle and dialed the number. He wiped his hand down his goatee and paced the floor while the sound of the phone ringing on the other end echoed in his ear.

  “Hello,” a gruff voice responded on the other end of the line.

  “It’s me. Remember that thing I asked you to do before?” he asked.

  “Uh-huh,” the man replied. He made no other sound, but Al-Hafeez knew he was there by his deep breathing.

  “Take care of it, and then meet me in the usual spot” he replied, and then hung up. He moved from the desk and stormed out into the hallway. His teeth were still gritted when he passed the night security and make it to his black jaguar. He slammed the door shut when he was safely inside.

  “Took you long enough,” someone said from the back.

  Al-Hafeez jumped and turned instantly. “Father you scared me,” he said, his hand still clutching his heart.

  “So, what is this business I hear about you getting mixed up with the undergro
und world again,” the old man asked and pulled himself forward so that he was just inches away from his son.

  “You weren’t supposed to know about that,” Al-Hafeez said. “Look, I got myself into this mess, and I will get out of it again.”

  “And how do you propose to do that? Milk the family fortune dry and then live in a poor house? How many times have we had this discussion about your ruler ship? If you can’t control your impulses, how will you ever lead anyone else?”

  Al-Hafeez slapped his hand to his face. He felt like he was ten years old again, and his father was chastising him for being truant, or for sneaking out of the palace. “Don’t get involved. By the way, who told you?” he fired back and turned to face the man. “Oh, wait, let me guess; it was Al-Kareem.”

  “And he had every right to,” his father continued.

  “Just let me handle this one,” Al-Hafeez said and turned the key in the ignition. “Now if you don’t mind, I have somewhere to be.”

  His father shook his head and opened the door of the car. He stood on the curb as Al-Hafeez gunned the car down the long stretch of road. He was driving, but someone else may as well have been controlling the wheels, for he wasn’t sure where he was going. He drove around for a while, trying to get control of the thoughts raging inside his mind. His shame in asking his father for help was unbearable, and he knew he had only one option.

  He tried calling the number he had dialed before, but there was no answer. Finally, he drove to the location he was to meet the man, but there was nothing or no one there. The car slowed to a stop and Al-Hafeez got out. He paced and circled the car for a few minutes before dialing the number again.

  “Where are you?” he asked when the voice came over the speaker.

  “Do you think it would have been that easy?” an unfamiliar voice asked him.

  Al-Hafeez moved the phone from his ears and glanced at the screen to ensure he had made the right call. The name was displayed on the LCD display, and he placed the phone at his ears again. “Who is this?”

  “Well, what do you know; if it isn’t the great Sheikh himself. I was expecting your call.”

  “What are you doing with this phone? Put Jahleel on the phone,” Al-Hafeez told him.

  “Oh you mean the man you sent to kill my brother?”

  “Kill your brother?” Al-Hafeez asked and then looked at the phone before placing it at his ears again. “What are you talking about? Is this some sort of joke?”

  “Oh, I wish it were,” the gruff voice replied. “Word has it you owed him some money. He came to collect, and not long after he left your office, he wound up at the bottom of the river.”

  The voice was bitter and angry, and Al-Hafeez was confused. “What?” Al-Hafeez asked, as his widened his eyes in horror. “What? Wait! This has nothing to do with…he is dead?”

  “Don’t act as if you don’t know what I’m talking about,” the man continued. “You sent your little friend here to kill him, all to get out of your gambling debt. I got here too late, and now my brother is dead. Now you are going to wish it was him you had to deal with and not me. Oh, and the police too. I suggest you run on home now oh great Sheikh, and let the police catch you before I do.” And then the phone went dead.

  Al-Hafeez stood there rooted to the spot, his heart drumming in his ears. He shouted at the wind and smashed his phone on the ground. Everything was spiraling out of control, and he no longer could see his way out. There was only one thing he could do now. He got back into his car and sped down the highway that led to his estate. The car glided over the smooth cobblestone driveway and came to a stop across from the fountain in the courtyard.

  “Father!” he shouted as he raced through the entrance hall and into the drawing room, where he could almost always find the old man of late.

  “Al-Hafeez! What is the matter?” his father asked as he turned to him.

  “The police are coming,” he burst out. He was breathless from his sprint across the courtyard.

  “What do you mean? Have the bookies sent the police? That’s not what they normally do. I told you not to get mixed up with them again!”

  “No, that’s not it! They think I killed him. I thought about it, but then I called Jahleel to get some money for me.”

  “Another bookie?” his father asked.

  “Now both Jahleel and Manseh are dead, and his brother thinks I sent Jahleel to kill Manseh to cancel my debt. He called the police.”

  “What have you gotten yourself into this time Al-Hafeez?” his father asked, worry creasing his brow.

  Al-Hafeez had barely finished giving his father the explanation when the butler came into the drawing room. “Master, the police are here to see Sheikh Al-Hafeez.”

  He looked at his father, panic in his eyes, and then back at the butler. He had only made two moves in the direction the butler indicated when his father slapped his hand on his shoulder, grinding him to a halt.

  “Wait!” his father said and walked around him and out to the entrance hall. “Good evening officers,” he said and smiled.

  “We are here for Sheikh Al-Hafeez. He is wanted in the investigation of a murder.”

  “How is that so?” the old man asked.

  “The victim’s brother identified him as the man fleeing the scene of the crime.”

  “That’s it?” the old man asked, after waiting for more from the officers. “The victim’s brother fed you a story, and that’s what you use? My son is going nowhere with you.”

  “You know the laws here Sir, and we have the highest respect for you and your family,” the officer said and shifted nervously. He looked back at his partner, a short stocky fellow that appeared to be having his first run straight from the police training center. “If he is involved we will have to take him in.”

  “But you have no such proof other than the words of a low life, right?”

  “No matter,” the officer said. “He has to come with us.”

  “My son is going nowhere with you,” the elder Sheikh Ramadan retorted. “Look, we can work something out. I will personally come in with him in the morning, and I would very much appreciate your discretion on the matter. My son is not going to sleep in a prison cell!”

  The officer in charge nodded, and then turned to the other next to him. “Very well, Sir, but I suggest you get a lawyer,” he said, and tipped his hat before walking off.

  After they had gone, the old man looked at his son with disgust and grunted. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?” And then he walked off.

  For all the trouble he had gotten into all his life, this had been the worst, and he wasn’t sure as yet how he was going to make it out of it in one piece. He sighed and stood there as he watched the flashing lights of the police car disappear from the estate, and then he went to his office. Not even a drink of brandy could drown the noise in his head, and for the first time in his life, he regretted his actions.

  CHAPTER 2

  The sister towers in the busy Metropolitan area served as Jameela Harding’s home away from home. She had migrated to the United Arab Emirates a few years ago, chasing a job opportunity that would land her at the top. It did, and now she spent more hours in the law office than she did in her own apartment. At present the back seat of her car was strewn with paper and files from the many cases she had; from reports she had to make, and from research into cases she was still conducting. She didn’t try to organize them most of the times because they ended up being a mess by the end of the day again.

  She pressed the button that opened up the trunk of her silver Volvo. She got out and went to the back and pulled out a box she kept there. She opened the back door and lifted some of the files and placed them inside there. She used her body to push the door back in, and struggled under the weight of the box.

  “Let me help you with that,” she heard a voice say as she got to the elevator. It was Nathan, and one of the partners in her firm.

  “Oh, thank you,” she replied, and handed the
box to him. Then she fixed the straps of her bag onto her shoulder and pressed the up button.

  “So, when are you going to let me help you with dinner one of these nights?” he asked.

  The elevator bell dinged then, and Jameela hastened inside, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the question. “Why do you keep asking Nathan? I told you, I am not interested in dating anyone yet. I am just coming out of a relationship and…”

  “I know, I know,” he said as the metal doors closed before them. “I had to ask anyway.”

  “So, what’s going on with the bosses? I heard they called you in yesterday,” she said in an effort to change the subject. Nathan was a handsome man, with dark brown hair and a charming personality, but he didn’t catch her eye in the way she wanted a man to. Besides, she did not consider herself emotionally available. Her love life had been tumultuous in the last few years she had decided it would be best if she went on a relationship hiatus.

  “Nothing much, except that I just got handed the case concerning the oil scandal,” he said and tried unsuccessfully to downplay both the magnitude of the job and his obvious excitement.

  “You what? No way,” she said and nudged him on the arm. “Good for you. Wow.” The elevator opened then and she walked into the office. She almost ran into an intern balancing a tray of coffee, and heading towards what seemed like a marketplace. “I can’t say I don’t envy you. I’ve done a lot of research on Smithson and Gordon. Are you sure you don’t need a partner? I could use a break from this office.”