Sheikh With Benefits by Teresa Morgan Page A

cocoon, clinging to her work and her books. Trying for the bigger pleasures in life had just cost her everything else.
    "Leave." Daliya grabbed both her hands, a little too tightly. "You have to leave. Get away from him. It's the only way to get over him. Listen, you can't settle for a life like that."
    "But Father needs—"
    "Damn right Dad needs you," Daliya said. "But you don't need him. You've done his job from the background since you were nineteen, and done it so smoothly that no one would notice."
    "But you noticed?" Daliya's concern threw her off. Her sister had ignored her for years. Or so she'd thought.
    Maybe she shouldn't trust Daliya. Then again, why the hell not? Even if she reported everything they talked about to their father, which didn't seem likely considering the epic fights the two of them had, why would it matter? This time of living with her family was over. In a few short months, she'd be Javad's wife. His unhappy, depressed wife, taken for granted just the way her father took her for granted.
    On the other hand, if she left, she'd be alone and in misery. None of this was going the way it was supposed to. "I have to marry him. If I don't, I'll be—"
    "Miserable." Daliya cut her off. "For a few years. Would you prefer being miserable for the rest of your life with him?"
    She was right, Arya realized. It would feel like dying in the moment, but leaving would give her some hope in the future. Far, far in the future.
    Her sister's unfocused eyes looked vaguely in the direction of the tinkling courtyard fountain. But she also seemed to be looking far away. Perhaps even into the past. "I watched Dad make you take care of him, and I was too young to do anything about it. And to be honest, I was jealous of you."
    "Of me?" She didn't trust her ears. "You're kidding."
    Daliya nodded. When she spoke again, her tone was desert-dry. "You had your mom. Mine left me. I was so awful back then that I was happy your mom died because it meant you had to feel what I did. Except I doubt Dad ever told you what a whore she was after she was gone.
    "Oh, Daliya." Her heart burned with the pain of a little girl abandoned by the person in the world who was supposed to love her the most. If only she'd known back then. They could have been wretched together.
    Her sister seemed to come back into the present, her beautiful face hardened to stone. "You can't live with that again. I won't let you, even if I have to abduct you or something."
    "Maybe you're right about leaving."
    "Will he try to force you into marriage?"
    She waved a hand in dismissal. "Javad isn't like that."
    Daliya froze in place for an instant, and it hit Arya what she'd just said. His name. Shit .
    "Javad? As in His Highness Javad Shirin? The King's brother? Three piece suit? Tie about to strangle him?"
    She nodded after every question. What else could she do? Everyone had seen her talking to Javad these last few months. It wasn't much of a leap.
    Daliya had a sparkle and a newfound respect in her eyes. "The effing prince . Seriously? Boy, you really go for it, don't you?"
    She couldn't help but smile back a bit. She'd had the second highest ranked man in the land between her thighs, and she was about to turn down his proposal—if she could find the strength. She felt a little badass. It was kind of a great feeling. If she didn't think about how she was about to leave and never see him again.
    "Go back to Ottawa," Daliya urged. "The king will send you if you ask. Make yourself busy, and eventually you'll meet someone else. One of us might as well be free from this place."
    Arya looked at the home that didn't feel like hers. She'd felt far more comfortable at Javad's house, with its Western-style art and furniture, and that big, fluffy, dirty-thought-inducing bed. She wouldn't miss this place's hand-knotted silk carpets, the bronze-topped tables, or the mosaic floor tiles. Until a few minutes ago, she would have gladly left anything in Ulai but Javad. Now there was